Playing With Fire

It took all of my will power to block the memory from my mind for a while. I slowly got up and made my way to the bathroom. The mirror had become one of my worst enemies. It showed me who I really was, how broken I'd become. I stared at myself. I was like a ghost. I had dark circles underneath my eyes and my skin was cold and colorless. It was times like these that I wished he really had killed me that afternoon.

"Kara?" I heard my mother's voice from the doorway. I walked out of the bathroom to meet her gaze. Her face was emotionless, absolutely blank. "They're here."

My heart began to thud hard against my chest. They were here. Nick was here. Just down those stairs in the living room, probably scared to death to see me. I started to hyperventilate. I looked in my mother's direction, expecting her to give me some words of sympathy to make me feel better, but she was gone. I knew she was ashamed of me. Humiliated and embarrassed to be in my presence. She believed what happened was my fault. That if maybe I had worn looser jeans and turtlenecks and not have had a boy best friend, it wouldn't have happened. There was nothing to change her mind.

I went back into the bathroom, trying to make myself decent enough that Nick and his family won't run for their lives when they see me. I brushed my teeth and washed my face and tried to smooth down my hair, trying my best to just relax. This was Nick. He's not going to care about what I look like, but I did.

My eyes fluttered over my body. My shoulders and arms were all bone and barely any flesh. My cheeks had lost all color. My eyes were bloodshot red. But the worst part was my stomach. It was May. It had been five months since the incident.

And I was five months pregnant.

When I finally realized there was nothing more that could be done about my appearance, I slowly made my way down to the living room. I hadn't seen Nick since the day he told me he couldn't walk me home and I don't know why. I never found out where he went and he never came back to school. He never called and never came over until today. I was so confused.

The living room finally came into focus and I saw the beautiful family I wished I could be a part of. They didn't see me at first and I was glad of that. Mrs. Jonas was sitting in an armchair, drinking a mug full of coffee. Mr. Jonas was in a chair opposite of her with his hands folded in his lap. They were the only married couple I knew who hadn't divorced yet, like my parents. Nick and his two older brothers, Kevin and Joe, were sitting on the couch. Nick was the only one not sipping on a Red Bull. He was looking away from me, out the window, so I couldn't see his face, but his entire family looked depressed. Like they were at a funeral for someone they loved. I noticed that they didn't bring the youngest boy, Frankie...probably because it would be too traumatic for him.

I walked into the room with my head down, trying ever so hard to hide my stomach. I didn't want to look up and see their disgusted faces. I got enough of that everywhere I went - grocery stores, libraries. A fifteen-year-old pregnant girl striked everyone as an irresponsible slut and I couldn't help that first impression. I knew the Jonas family would shake their heads at me and I'd walk a hall of shame.

But when I finally did look up, no one was disgusted. Their faces were full of sadness and sympathy. It hadn't been that long, but everyone looked different. Joe's hair was longer. Kevin had sideburns.

Mrs. Jonas pulled me into a hug as I shut my eyes tight and let a silent tear escape. The slightest touch always made me remember it - the worst day of my life. But I stayed strong and tried to hold it in. She smiled at me and Nick's two brothers waved slowly. They were older than Nick and the brothers I'd kill for. The memories I had of them were all filled with laughter and love. I waved back and Nick brought himself to his feet. His eyes were full of tears. He knew all about it. They all knew.

Nick and I both took Sex Ed in middle school. They taught us something about how you should never touch a rape victim. But Nick threw all that out the window - he didn't hold back and I was thankful of that. A tear ran down his face as he held me, digging his face into my neck. I cried hysterically into his chest, dampening his shirt. Not because of remembering the memory. Not because of that monster who did that to me. But because this was Nick, my best friend and my hero. I felt safe with him and only him.

We sobbed into each other, not caring about everyone around us, witnessing two broken hearts slowly being mended. I pulled away from him just enough so I could look into his eyes. They were red and sad, almost like that ghost of a girl who stared back at me when I looked in the mirror. I cupped his cheeks with my hands and smiled.

I actually smiled.

My Nick was right there in my arms. Why shouldn't I have been happy? I felt tired and sick and weak, but underneath it all I had the urge to smile. Still, tears poured down my face. He moved some hair out of my face and held onto me tighter. Maybe, just maybe, things would get better now.