“Yeah,” he huffs, “I know.”

“Do you want to come in? I can make you something to eat and we can talk.”

“Maybe next time, silly girl,” he smiles. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“For what?”

“You’ll see.”

“Again, can you please tell me?”

He shrugs, “Nope,” he taps my nose, “just be ready tomorrow morning. I’ll text you with details.”

Rolling my eyes, I wave goodbye and walk back inside and to my room. Pulling out my phone, I open my music app on my phone and listen to music. The shuffle mode plays Fix A Heart by Demi Lovato. I sit back and take out my sketch pad.

My phone vibrates, bringing me out of my trance.

Ryan: Tomorrow morning at 9am wear shorts and a shirt or whatever . . . Bikini maybe? =) But be ready

Me: Ok?

Ryan: Don’t think about it . . . Just do it. Listening to me will be good for you . . . I guarantee it

I roll my eyes. He’s too cocky for his own good.

Me: Cocky much?

Ryan: I’d like to say I’m confident. Sounds better than cocky =p

Me: Whatever you say lol

Not wanting to wait for his text, I grab my gym bag and head out.

Mandy and I have a kickboxing class tonight. I haven’t been to a kickboxing class in a while. Lately I’ve been focusing on doing other gym routines like lifting and high intensity interval training.

Stepping into the class, I see Mandy stretching and join her.

“So you’ve been avoiding me,” I tell her, rolling my shoulders forward and back. “Afraid to tell me something?”

“Shut up,” she pushes me and laughs. “I don’t want to talk about it now, but I will.”

“You know I’m here for you.”

“I know,” she says and we stretch until the instructor comes.

Immediately she starts class, putting on high intensity music to get us moving. Feeling the burn in my arms and legs, I keep up with the instructor. I look over to the right and see Mandy. She looks at me with death in her eyes.

“Let’s go, ladies. I want to see aggression. Pretend your best friend slept with your boyfriend or you found your husband in bed with your sister. Hit the damn bags!” the instructor yells.

Closing my eyes and focusing, I think about Tony and rage spills from me. My hits are stronger and my grunts are louder.

“You’ll never touch me again!” I scream, kicking the bag over and over again. “Never.” I feel arms around me and I collapse, crying. I think about that night again and I feel his rough hands. Why did that have to happen to me? I never did anything bad to anyone. I don’t know why I’m allowing him to control me from so far away. I have to learn how to control my emotions and my hate for him.

“It’s okay,” Mandy tells me. The instructor tells everyone class is over and kneels down besides us.

“Word of advice hun, don’t bottle it in.” She pats my shoulder and leaves the room.

“She’s right, Bay. You have to talk.”

“I know,” I whisper through the tears, “I know.”

Sitting in my car, I pull out my phone and call Tyler. The phone rings twice and I hear his anxious voice.

“Bay?”

“Hey,” I force myself to say without crying. Hearing his voice on the other end, knowing he’s so far away, is killing me. I have to be strong or else he’ll come back. “How are you?”

“What’s wrong? And please don’t lie to me.”

He knows. He always knows. “I had a breakdown in kickboxing today. The instructor said to imagine someone you hate,” I start to cry, “and I pictured Tony. I hit the bag over and over again. Screaming and crying.” I hear his breathing growing faster, “I want to be okay. I hate this tainted feeling. He’s in prison and I know he can’t hurt me, so why do I think about it?”

“Because baby, it’s something that happened to you. This is part of your journey to survive remember? You’re going to face these demons and you have to learn how to do it head on. It’s going to be hard. Don’t shut anyone out, even yourself. Let yourself be sad and mad. It’s normal.”

I hear the hope in his voice and nod. We stay on the phone for a few minutes without saying anything.

“Thank you for knowing what to say. I thought calling you would make you want to come back.”

“Like you said, we need space and you need room to breathe and grow. But baby, you know I’d be there in a heartbeat.”

“I know.”

Taking out my journal, I put my thoughts to paper.

Today I had a breakdown. It’s been a while and I’m not sure when I’ll have another. I kept seeing Tony’s face. I want to hit him so bad and I want to see him to get answers. Why did he pick me that night? Why did he do that?

Every time I get the courage to take the five hour drive to the prison where he’s located, I stop myself. I only get about twenty minutes from my house before I turn back. I don’t think I can do it. But I think I have to. Does that make sense?

No one knows I need this and I’m not sure if I should tell anyone. What should I do?

Putting away my journal, I head to my bathroom to get ready for bed. My mind is full of what’s going on with Ryan, Tyler, and what happened today at the gym. I hate breaking down and letting what happened to me affect me. I know rape is difficult and I know it’s all about time. But sometimes I want to make myself forget and never feel that kind of pain. That violation and self-loathing.

Coming out of the bathroom, I see Ryan sitting on the edge of my bed. He’s wearing cargo shorts and a white tee. His hair’s recently been washed. When he lifts his head to look at me, I stop mid-step and stay where I’m standing. He stares at me as I open my mouth to say something, anything, because this whole showing up without being invited is not cute anymore.

“What are you doing here?”

“I need you to talk to me,” he answers and gets up to walk towards me. “I read some entries in your journal. Why are you blaming yourself?”

“You read my private journal? Are you serious Ryan?” I push him, using all my strength to cause some kind of pain, but he doesn’t move. “You can’t come here and think you can waltz back into my life and start your bullshit about that night. There’s nothing to talk about,” I scream, “I’m dealing with it. How dare you invade my privacy?”

“You left it out in the open.” I roll my eyes and snatch the journal away from him. I’m so angry he’s here and reading my words. “Why don’t you see your therapist anymore?”

“Because I don’t want to. I don’t need to. Why are you even here? Get out of my room and don’t come back!”

“Not until you talk to me, sweetheart.” I glare at him, ready to slap the smug look on his face. “Talk. Now.”

“No. N-O,” I spell out for him. “Understand that, asshole.”

“When did you get sassy?” He smirks.

“It’s not sassy. It’s being annoyed, upset, and angry. Go, now. Thanks.”

“Not leaving until you talk, sweetheart.”

Being the stubborn person I am, I cross my arms and walk to my bed. I’m not playing these games with him. If he can’t answer my questions, then why should I answer his? An internal battle is raging inside me.

Why’s he back?

What does he want?

Should I trust him?

“I can stay here if you won’t talk.” He sits on my bed and keeps his stare on me.

“Tell me why you’re back.”

“No thank you,” he reaches out for my hand and I pull away. “I want to know how you’re doing because I care about you and want to know you’re okay. I’ll tell you my reasons for being back, but not tonight. That’s saved for a different time. When I can talk to you and Tyler at the same time. It’s something the both of you should know.”

“Okay,” I respond, “I can handle that. He should be back in a few weeks.”

“Good.”

“Good,” I repeat.

“So talk. I promise you I’ll tell you my reasons for being back if you tell me what’s going on.”