Take This to Your Grave

That night, I didn't sleep. I couldn't; I felt so dirty and violated. I had taken two showers in the middle of the night, claiming to feel ill. I threw up, my face and body were burning hot. My dad had come in and taken care of me before he went to work; he did notice I was wearing the turtleneck I hated still.

"I thought you hated this thing." He said as he looked me over.

"It's warm." I lied.

I hated to lie; I was Pinocchio without the nose.

"Do you need me to stay with you?" He asked.

I shook my head, "No...no, I'll be okay."

My dad hummed; before he had gone, he returned with his old dark grey pea coat; "I had Amy wash it for you. Do you like it?"

My lips twitched into a smile, "Yeah...I do. Thank you."

"It's warm and dry; I threw it in the dryer earlier. You can wear it in case you get tired of the turtleneck."

"I will, thanks."

My dad set the coat on my desk chair, kissed my head and then left. I was alone again, alone with my thoughts and the disgusting feeling on my skin. I didn't take another shower; I had, had to look at my neck and saw the blotchy purple bruises that seemed to stay. I didn't cry, I was surprised at myself; I didn't feel like myself, I felt like that ghost still. I wanted to sleep, I wanted to get away from this moment I dared to live in.

I took a bunch of cough medicine and wrapped up in blankets; by this time I didn't care how the turtleneck felt. I climbed on the couch and watched TV; I didn't really, all I thought about was Seth doing what he did. I couldn't even categorize what he did because it made it all too real. I'd rather it be a faint memory, or something I read about, something that didn't happen to me.

It was maybe 10 AM when I heard a loud thump upstairs. I grew frighten then, I laid still, figuring that it was Seth; that he come to finish what he had started. That he was going to violate me even more and possibly kill me.

"Naomi!" I heard Pete.

My stomach sunk, my fear decreased. I got up slowly, hearing his footsteps jog down the stairs. He stood at the bottom and looked at me as I stood and bore at him from the couch. "Navy."

It took all of my energy not to cry or scream something. My lip trembled and I swallowed, "What are you doing here?"

Pete came over, "Babette told me something happened to you yesterday. She doesn't know what, but she knows you weren't telling the truth."

I forced a smile, "I'm sick is all. I got caught in the rain yesterday...I had detention."

Pete looked at me with a frown, "Naomi, you don't have to lie."

"I'm not lying." I shook my head and gave a small laugh.

He sighed, "Naomi, I--" he paused and came closer, his hand came up and pushed my hair back.

I turned my head, my hair covered my neck again, "Stop, alright? I got a rash or something and I can't cover it up."

"A rash?" Pete grabbed me and pushed my hair away. "That's not a goddamn rash!" He grabbed my arm hard and I shoved him.

"Stop it!" I screamed at him.

He let go and I stepped back. The room was silent except for the TV. I sat on the couch and looked away from him; "Naomi, what happened? Did someone--"

I cut him off, "No! No one did anything to me!"

Pete sat beside me and looked at me, "That's not a rash."

"Yes it is." I seethed. "I was wearing this itchy shirt with a high collar."

Pete's eyes wandered down to my arms to my hand, "That's a bruise."

"No it isn't." I muttered. "Can you drop it? I'm sick and you're gonna get sick if you get close."

I was trying so hard to get Pete off the subject. He didn't even budge.

"What happened to your wrist?" He took hold of my forearm and lifted it.

I winced at the sharp pain, "I fell in the rain...had to throw my jeans out."

Pete scooted closer to me, our knees touched, "Did...did someone rape you?"

I ripped my arm away from him, my wrist jolted with another sharp pain. I growled under my breath, wincing and gritting my teeth. I exhaled, "No. I wasn't raped."

Pete took hold of my arm again, and it took more of me not to cry. I held it in and let him rub my wrist; "It's hard to believe you."

"It's true. I wasn't raped. I just had a bad fuckin' day." I told him shortly. "I got a rash, I fell and I ruined my clothes...I've got..."

Pete moved his hand up to brush my hair back behind my ear, "Naomi, I won't tell anyone."

"It's nothing, really. I just had a bad day." I stressed.

Pete stared at me, our eyes locked and I fought the tears. I looked away finally and took his hand in mine. Pete sighed, "Navy, I love you."

"I love you, too." I murmured. "But, I'm fine, Pete. I am. I'm sick, I was out in the rain."

He sighed again, "Did someone hit you?"

"No."

"I want to help." He added softly, "I won't do anything if you tell me."

"There's nothing to tell." I said softly, urging a smile.

Pete didn't smile, "Navy, I'm serious."

"Pete, I'm serious." I smiled at him, hoping he would smile back, but he didn't.

"It's obvious, Navy. Do you think I'm dumb? Has your dad seen your neck and wrist?"

"Yes." I lied. "It's a rash."

Pete shot up, releasing my wrist, "Jesus, Naomi!" He shouted, "You're lying to me! What are you gonna tell your dad? Huh? Say it's a rash? Your dad isn't fuckin' stupid, no one is!"

I looked away, blinking, "No one is going to see it."

"Tell me who did it," Pete stood above me, "Because, I know you know, and I know that it wasn't some fucking accident. If it was, you wouldn't look like you were on the edge of crying."

"I'm sick." I sputtered, my head still hanging.

"Naomi, look at me right now." He ordered.

I shook my head, "No."

"Now. Look at me."

I swallowed and slowly tilted my head up. Our eyes locked as he sat beside me again, and I couldn't help but to let those built up tears fall. I rubbed them away, my hardened feelings were being ebbed away and I was mush.

Pete wrapped his arms around me and kissed me, "Tell me what happened."

I let the emotion overflow and I began to sob. I let it all out, sobbing and crying like I had done in the gym. I cried and cried, my right fist balled the shoulder of his shirt. I couldn't speak, I felt too embarrass to tell Pete, so I cried. I cried until I couldn't any longer.

"Navy?" Pete murmured when my sobs died down.

I shook my head, wiping my tears on his damp shoulder, "I don't want to talk about it."

Pete rubbed my back, "Okay."

I had got the so tired and Pete laid me on the couch; he covered me, kissed my cheek and told me he would check up on me soon. I hated that he had left; I wanted him near, and being left alone brought back unwanted thoughts and feelings. I hated myself most of all; how much of a tease I had been. All of this had been all of my fault.