Kelly just blinked at her, had no idea why she was asking that.

“It looks like you’ve—I mean, you’re starting to bruise here.” Reese pointed at the skin just over Kelly’s neckline, where Caleb had bitten hard enough to mark. “And your clothes”—Reese swallowed hard and seemed to force herself to conclude—“Kelly, if you’ve been raped—”

“I haven’t,” Kelly interrupted hurriedly. “I haven’t. I promise.”

After another searching look, Reese seemed to believe her, because her body relaxed a little.

Kelly felt a flood of bitterness well up in her chest, all directed inward. “I did just have sex, yes. That much must be obvious. But it was consensual.” She closed her eyes and wished she didn’t hate herself quite so much. “My choice. My choice.” Her voice faded off a little. “Mine.”

Reese’s brow furrowed, and her face twisted with sympathy. “Can’t you tell me?”

“No. I don’t think I can. I’m sorry. I know it’s horrible for me to show up here and not tell you anything—”

Reese brushed her apology away. “You don’t have to tell me anything tonight if you don’t feel up to it. I’m so glad you came here.” Reese’s eyes softened a little as they focused on Kelly. “I’m so glad to see you. I’ve been so worried. You seemed to just disappear.”

Guilt slammed into Kelly, on top of all her other tumultuous emotions. She felt like she would choke—there was just too much she was feeling and experiencing. It was too intense. Too chaotic. And how was one person supposed to deal with all of it?

She needed a break, a respite, a breath of air to recover herself.

Reese seemed to recognize this much, because she stood up. “It’s late. I’ll let you sleep. We can talk more tomorrow.” Glancing around her small apartment, she added, “We could share the bed if you—”

Kelly shook her head, dreading the idea of being that close to someone—anyone—tonight. “The couch will be great. I don’t need special treatment.”

Reese must have read finality in her voice. She didn’t argue. She just showed Kelly the bathroom and brought in some bedding for the couch. After she’d gotten things arranged, she paused, obviously on her way back to her own bedroom. “If you need anything—”

The simple kindness was almost too much for Kelly. She wanted to flee. Run away from it. It was making her chest ache so much. “I’ll let you know,” she forced out of her painfully dry throat. “I might take a shower, but I’ll try not to make too much noise.”

“Make as much noise as you want. And wake me up for whatever reason.” Reese started to leave, but then she turned back and reached out to pull Kelly into a hug. “I’ve missed you so much.”

Tears burned in Kelly’s eyes, but they weren’t as painful as the excruciating pressure in her chest. She forced herself not to pull away from the hug—not wanting to hurt Reese’s feelings.

But it was so hard. So hard to be hugged this way, when physical touch had left her with so few defenses.

Reese went into her bedroom at last, and Kelly was relieved when the door shut so she could have a little space. She took her overnight bag and went into the bathroom, turning the shower on as hot as she could stand. She took off her wrinkled clothes, and stepped under the spray.

She let the water wash over her, and tried to imagine it cleansing her of everything impure that had ever touched her. She wished she could imagine all of her pain and bitterness and rage spilling down the drain with the water.

Wished her twisted heart—one that only knew how to betray—could melt away in the heat.

She couldn’t even imagine that much.

She cried a little more in the shower, although her sobs weren’t desperate or agonized, and she felt strange when she started to pull herself together. She had no idea what to do next.

What she ended up doing was curling up under the blankets and shaking helplessly in the fetal position for several minutes.

But she was more exhausted than she could ever remember being, and sometimes even trauma can’t keep you awake.

She eventually fell into sleep and to her surprise actually slept straight through nearly the whole night. She woke up only once at about four in the morning, and for a moment she panicked, not able to remember where she was.

But then, as her eyes adjusted to the dark, she started to recognize Reese’s apartment. She remembered everything that had happened, and knew Reese was sleeping in the bedroom. In her groggy state, Kelly experienced a strange sense of security.

As if, for this one night, she was safe. Protected. No one could touch her.

So, she drifted back into sleep and didn’t wake up until Reese gently shook her shoulder. “Kelly,” Reese was saying softly as Kelly finally managed to open her eyes. “Kelly.”

“Huh?” Kelly grunted, stretching out on the sofa and trying to orient herself.

“I have to go to work,” Reese explained. “I made coffee. Just make yourself at home.”

“Okay,” Kelly agreed automatically, her body aching—from fatigue, from stress—as she tried to prop herself up into a sitting position. “Thanks.”

Reese gave her a sharp look. “You’ll be here when I get back?”

Kelly had no idea if she would be here or not. “Yeah. I think so.”

Pressing her lips together, Reese insisted, “Promise me.”

Caleb had once said the exact same thing, in the exact same tone. It felt like ages—endless, aching years—ago.

“I don’t think I can promise you, Reese, but I think I will be here.” She let out a long breath. “I really don’t have anywhere else to go.”

After Reese left, Kelly spent the whole morning in her pajamas, making herself some breakfast and watching some TV. Doing her best not to think about Caleb.

She had hurt him. Really bad. She knew it, even though he had hardened into ice as she was leaving him. She’d wounded a part of him that had only just started opening up.

He would be wounded so much more, so much deeper, if he ever found out the truth—why she’d ever been with him in the first place.

He might deserve it. He probably did. But she just didn’t know anymore.

Maybe it was better this way. Just end it now. Never talk to him again. Never pursue the lingering questions. Never let her heart get twisted more painfully than it already was.

She would never have justice. She would never have answers. She still would have broken herself. But nothing else would have changed. No one else would be hurt.

Maybe it was the right thing to do, or maybe it was the worst thing. She was no longer capable of judging rights and wrongs.

Every option left to her felt wrong.

—

“Come on, Kelly,” Reese said impatiently. “I’ve been kind and considerate all day, but I want to know what the hell is going on. Why the fuck won’t you tell me anything? I’m going crazy.”

Kelly gave her friend a faint smile. “I know. But it’s just not something I can talk about.”

Reese scowled at her. “That’s stupid. You could talk about it if you wanted to. I’ve been wondering for weeks what was happening to you. You barely replied to any of my texts and calls, and now you show up and won’t tell me anything.”

“I know,” Kelly acknowledged. “It’s not fair. I’m a selfish ass. I admit it.”

“So tell me,” Reese demanded.

They were sitting on the couch, watching a crime drama on TV, and Reese had burst out with her question in the middle of a commercial. Kelly could hardly blame her.

She sighed. “You know I had some bad stuff happen when I was a kid.”

“Yeah, sure. Your dad died and your mom left. I know how hard it was.”

“Well, there were some things left unresolved, and a few weeks ago my mom reappeared out of the blue, wanting me to resolve them.”

Reese clearly had no idea what she was talking about, but she listened quietly.

Kelly continued, “So I had to do some things that are pretty awful in order to take care of it. And there was a man involved, and it all got twisted.” When she saw her friend’s face, she added, “I know none of it makes sense, but this is as much as I can tell you. Please don’t ask for more details.”