Of Confidence

Melanie couldn't sleep. Her eyes couldn't close because she wouldn't let them. For, when she let them close she would wake up shortly after, sweating bullets and tears running down her face with a constant aching between her legs. Sleep was her own manmade Hell.

John ran in the room for the sixth time that night, and Melanie let him pat her head with a cold cloth, wiping the sweat from her forehead. "You okay?"

Melanie shook her head no, letting the tears continue to fall. She could feel bags forming below her eyes showing her lack of rest and her stress. "What time is it?"

"It's four," John answered softly. "You've slept for about an hour."

Melanie groaned, running her hand through her sweat filled hair. She could smell the stench around her, but she didn't want to shower; it only made her think of that night, and the few things she could remember.

John handed her a glass of cold water and she gratefully took it from his hands, her lips pressing to the cold glass and letting in the chilled liquid. She could feel John's eyes staring intensely at her, much as they had for the past day he had been there, his worry seeping into her body. "Thank you for the water," she said.

He nodded in response, his eyes searching the room for anything that could help her feel better, but she knew he was at a loss when his shoulders dropped. "Anything else you need?" He asked, standing from the edge of the bed where he was previously sitting.

He had been keeping his distance, for Melanie's comfort, but she knew that it was difficult for him to not reach out and comfort her. Probably as difficult as it was for her to convince herself that it'd be okay for him to hold her. She didn't know why she feared John but she hated herself for it; he was the one who was worried for her to go to the party in the first place. He was right about it all.

Melanie placed the empty cup on her dresser next to her before laying back into bed. She rested her hands over her eyes, and she listened as John quietly began to walk away from her room. "John," she said, causing him to pause.

"Yeah?" He asked, seriously. He seemed more interested seeing as she had finally called out him; something that hadn't happened all day long.

"Thanks for being here for me," Melanie said sheepishly, looking into his deep green eyes.

John nodded his head vigorously, "Of course Melanie. I'm always here when you need me, okay? Just call me."

She rubbed her hand on the back of her neck, pulling her blankets farther up her waist. "When do you need to go back to tour John? I'll be fine here alone, it's only a few days."

He sighed as he ran his hand through his hair. "I'm going back tomorrow morning, but I think you should come with me."

Melanie shook her head. Being somewhere she felt comfortable was already hard enough, being in a different country surrounded by people she didn't know very well didn't appeal to her in the least, "Like I said, I'll be fine here alone, John."

"Haley will still be here," he said under his breath, and Melanie knew he was just trying to convince himself that it was okay to leave though she knew he didn't want to.

Melanie nodded her head, "Yeah, and I'm grown John. I can take care of myself, I'm not sick...just-"

"Hurt," John finished for her, looking at her with sympathy. "Very, very, hurt. And, you can't sleep. I can't leave you here, Melanie," he said sadly, his back sliding down her door frame, his body sinking to the floor.

Melanie laid her head back down into her pillows, letting the heat of her bed spread warm her cooling her cooling skin. "What are you going to tell the guys?"

"What do you mean?" John asked, quizzically.

"Please don't tell them that I-I was uh," she couldn't finish her sentence. It was almost as if she didn't say that it happened it never did.

"Raped," he said quietly.

Melanie felt her skin begin to itch all over from the sweat she had poured out trying to sleep that night. Her bruises began to pound in her skin, making her body ache all over. "Don't tell them, please John."

She watched as he stood up and walked over to the edge of her bed, sitting on it gently. "Kennedy is going to want to know," he said.

Melanie felt her breath catch at his name. She missed him so much. She hadn't talked to him since the night before graduation; the night John came home, two nights before that man hurt her, six days ago. He called her everyday trying to speak with her, but she couldn't bring herself to answer and she knew why. If she spoke to Kennedy she would tell him what happened, and she'd be forced to remember because she couldn't lie to him no matter how much she wanted to. He brought out the best of her. "Have you talked to him?" Melanie asked, desolately.

John nodded his head yes. "But, I didn't tell him anything."

"He didn't ask?" She wondered to John aloud.

He nodded his head slowly. "He did, but I told him that you'd have to be the one to tell him. Maybe telling him could help you...accept what happened."

"Maybe I don't want to," Melanie said irritably.

John stood up from her bed walking over to her door. "You may not want to, but you have to. You'll be living like this for the rest of your life if you don't," he said as carefully as possible.

She knew he was right; she knew he only said this because he cared about her but she didn't care. He wasn't the one who hurt. He wasn't the one who saw that man's glimmering green eyes every time he closed his eyes. He wasn't the one who could feel the aching between his legs whenever he lay still. He wasn't the one who had those horrifying four words constantly ringing in his ears: "You can't fight fate."

_____

Melanie felt her body begin shaking, as her yells echoed through the room, causing her to shake awake. The room was dark, telling her she had finally fallen asleep for a few hours now before being woken by those green eyes in her mind.

She could hear the soft sounds of the TV downstairs, and she was left to assume that John had fallen asleep on the couch downstairs seeing as he wasn't in her room for once when she had awaken screaming.

Melanie pulled a Hollister hoodie over her thin frame and walked down her stairs, each footstep landing softly on the wooden stairs. The house was dark, the only light was coming from the screen in the living room that John was laying across from.

She walked around the couch quietly, trying not to wake the boy who was sound asleep on her suede couch. She sat next to him softly, making sure the couch made no movements as she did.

Melanie looked down at John and she couldn't stop the small grin that came onto her lips. His mouth was partially opened, letting soft snores escape it. His chest moved up and down gradually, his breathing calming her fear that had constantly been in the pit of her stomach for the past few days. His hair hung onto his forehead, covering parts of his closed lids.

Melanie couldn't figure out why she feared being too close to John. He wasn't the one who had done this to her. He was the one taking care of her. She couldn't understand why when she thought of him wrapping his arms around her she became nervous. She didn't know if it was just because he was a boy or just because he was John. She needed a hug, but she wouldn't ask him to do it for her because she was nervous, but why was she worried? This was the boy who had been her best friend for years; he had never physically hurt her, just emotionally.

Melanie grabbed the remote that sat on the couch above John's head as she began flipping through channels on the TV. She finally settled on Disney Channel when she saw that Phineas and Ferb was on; her and John's long time secret guilty pleasure.

She couldn't help but to smile as Phineas danced with the monster in the lake, because it reminded her of simpler times. Back when she thought this show was possibly the funniest thing in the entire world, back when Disney Channel seemed like real life, back before reality seemed to repeatedly slap her across the face.

Melanie was surprised when she heard John begin laughing next to her, and she smiled as he sat up next to her, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes. "I watch this all the time on tour," he chuckled softly, his voice barely reaching above a whisper.

"Tour sounds extremely exciting," Melanie giggled.

John laughed, "It was hard to sleep sometimes, and this show was the only thing that could knock me out."

"Because it's so boring?"

"No, because it reminded me of you," John said honestly, his eyes focused on the screen.

Melanie sighed, "Things have changed a lot these past few years, huh?"

He nodded his head. "For better and for worse."

Melanie could help but to notice the sympathetic look on John's face as he said the for worse part and she knew he was thinking of her current situation.

"How are you feeling?" He asked.

She shrugged in response. "How am I supposed to feel?"

John looked at her, his face showing that he semi understood the question she had just asked him. "That's a good question."

The two sat silently for a few moments, small chuckles erupting from their lips every so often.

Melanie was torn away from the show as John nervously began to speak, "Melanie," he said carefully.

"Yeah?" She asked, looking at him with anticipation in her eyes.

"I-I'm leaving tomorrow, and I still wasn't comfortable with you being here alone, so I kind of got someone to come over here," he said nervously, unsure of what her reaction would be.

Melanie groaned, "John I don't need a babysitter."

"I know, you just need someone down here who cares about you," he replied.

"You didn't call my parents back did you?" Melanie asked anxiously, they were the last people she wanted to talk to at the moment. She knew their reactions would be overdramatic, wanting to send her to therapy and to the police and those were two things she wanted to ignore.

As if on cue the doorbell rang, interrupting John as he opened his mouth to speak. He looked at her, worry in his eyes as he stood up and left the room to go to the front door.

Melanie sat firmly in her seat, not wanting to approach the people she would be expecting at the door. She heard John quietly disarm her house alarm and open the door. She could make out soft mumbles from the door but she couldn't make out the voices.

She listened as they walked into the room keeping her eyes that were threatening tears to the screen.

"You need someone here who cares what you want to do, Melanie. I don't think your parents are going to be best for that right now," John said gently, as she realized that he didn't call her parents.

She turned her eyes more willingly to the entry of the room where John was standing next to Kennedy Brock.

Melanie felt relief take over her body as Kennedy stared at her. She watched as he surveyed every cut on her body, every bruise that flowered over her skin, not even being able to see them all because of her sweater.

She lifted herself off of the couch and before she even comprehended what she was doing she threw her arms around the boy. She closed her eyes firmly as she felt tears falling from them as Kennedy held her tightly against him, his hand smoothing over her hair.

Kennedy whispered quiet coos in her ears, calming her sobs and she instantly felt relaxed in his arms; something that surprised both her and the other boy that was in the room.

Melanie pulled herself away from Kennedy as she looked into John's eyes that were full of jealousy and melancholy. She watched as John bit his lips softly, "Looks like I brought the right guy," he said, not trying to hide the disappointment in his voice.

She nodded her head slowly as three stood awkwardly in the room, tension covering any attempt at conversation.

John quietly excused himself from the room as Melanie turned to the boy that stood in front of her, a gracious look on her face; Kennedy Brock had always been her saving grace.