Unmasked

Valerie's POV

After spending an entire night unblinking, I decided to peel myself off the floor and take a shower. I knew it was early, just a while ago, I'd heard Dad bustling outside. I stood under running water, staring at the bruises; I wanted to believe they looked better, paler, than they did yesterday. I think it was wishful thinking. The menstruation flow wasn't abundant, so, at least the cramps would be gone and maybe the headaches wouldn't be so violent, even if I kept crying and not sleeping. I got dressed in the same fashion: sweater and sweatpants. This way, I didn't need to worry about make-up rubbing off. Thank modern science for air conditioning, though. These were so hot…

Inside my walk-in closet, I sat at the make-up dresser, parting my hair in half to braid it. Why? Because I needed something to do. I needed to keep a blank mind. Facing the facts was too destructive. My eyes seemed to sink into their sockets, the skin around them was swollen, with creeping shadows that accentuated my lack of rest. I needed to talk to Finn, the thought crossed my mind as I finished tying the first braid. As I started on the other one, I wondered what I was going to do. Never in a million years would I breakup with Finn; things between us were good. Worth it, as he put it days ago.

Days ago.

I stared at myself in the mirror, haunted. It felt like forever since I'd seen him or heard his voice. My lashes lowered. What was I going to do? What was my next move? I trusted Finn, but Jackson was right. Where was the proof of him roofieing me? His story had more credibility. I could say we dated and kept it a secret, I could say he became obsessed with me and lost his mind. But who would believe me? Jackson wasn't stupid enough to not have used a condom, so there wouldn't be any DNA vestiges and being on my period… Well, let's just say my uterus was already tearing itself apart. It was his word against mine and he had photos. I had more to lose than Jackson if those reached Finn or my father—even Maria. My father saw Jackson as a good guy, he kept saying I should cut him some slack. He didn't know Jackson at all—then again, maybe I'd never known Jackson either.

Finn would despise me if he ever saw those photographs. He would… I couldn't imagine that. Jackson had me trapped. For now. I wasn't stupid, I knew my life would become a living hell—more so.

***

Simone brought me breakfast. She seemed satisfied at the sight of my dinner plate being empty. Little did she know, I flushed most of it. She stopped trying to strike conversation when all I gave her were grunts; I sniffed a few times to keep my cold excuse alive. I still hadn't sat on my bed. Deep down, a rational part of me knew the bed wasn't evil, my brain was simply tying it with awful memories. Getting past that was easier said than done, though.

Five minutes after Simone abandoned my room, I hadn't had time to lock the door, so, Jackson decided to pop in for a visit. Did I say visit? I meant torture session.

"Why weren't you at dinner last night?" I blinked. I chose not to respond. Instead, I ate my mango. "Simone told me you were coming down with a cold. It's kind of chilly in here…"

In a fit of violence, I stabbed the fork into the sliced mango.

"I hate you."

Jackson frowned at me, looking so completely innocent. It turned my stomach. He wouldn't slip up with my door ajar, there was too much chance of someone walking by and catching us arguing.

"I have no idea why. All I do is in your best interest."

I took advantage of his civility. I spun in the chair, facing him.

"If I yell that you raped me, and someone hears, you'll deny it. Right? Someone can rush in, worried, and I can keep yelling about what you did, but you'll just play dumb. You'll wear that innocent expression and tell everyone I'm crazy."

"I think you might have a fever. You're not making any sense, Valerie." Exactly. That smirk. I wanted to push him into a vat of chemicals. "I just wanted to remind you…"

"Remind me of what?" I bit out like a rabid dog.

"That you've got two days to get me that thing we talked about." That thing…? It dawned on my sleep deprived brain that he meant: you have two days to breakup with Finn. "You can't say I'm not a generous guy. Well, I hope you feel better." I stared at his retreating back, imagining what it would be like to stab the fork in my hand into his neck. "One more thing," he turned just before leaving. "I want to see you at dinner tonight." The words were whispered but thunderous in my ears. There was an unspoken threat in his demand.

Once he left, I locked the door. Welcome to Hell, Valerie.

***

I had to suffer through a dinner with Jackson. Simone crossed the dining room on multiple occasions, as if sensing my unwillingness to be there. Dad had a business dinner and Maria had gone to bed earlier because she had an early meeting with a client. After a second night on the floor, I had enough. My back was starting to protest; plus, bumping bruised limbs on the floor was painful; I needed to get over the bed trauma. That's why I spent a good portion of my morning edging towards it. Once I sat on it, just the edge, nothing happened. My bedroom walls didn't cry blood, the ceiling didn't erupt in flames, there were no violent storms kicking outside. The repulsion was entirely due to my scarred psyche. Still, if therapy had taught me anything in the last nine years, was how to work around these problems. Like I'd told Finn, the bad thing had already happened, there was no remedying it. Jackson wasn't going to lord over me, I wouldn't feel scared of something as trite as a bed or another person's touch for that matter. I didn't have a way out of his blackmail, though. Today, after he left the duplex, I'd gone to his bedroom and snooped around, but came away with nothing. Not even the camera he'd used. I couldn't even get into his computer because it was password protected.

That's why I felt like complete shit sitting in the middle of my bed. Jackson's ultimatum ended today and I was waiting to play executioner.

Once I heard him come in, my heart wrenched. I knew Simone told him to come up, because I was waiting for him and she liked him. She really liked Finn. I was being torn apart and I hadn't even done anything—said anything, yet. But every time my brain circled back to Jackson's conversation I couldn't see a way out. What was I going to tell Finn? I didn't have any proof of being drugged, I hadn't been able to get my hands on the photos, not yet, and… I didn't want Finn to do something that could get him into serious trouble. I knew his history—about his sister. This would destroy him; if I told him the truth and he believed me, Finn would go after Jackson.

I sucked in a breath. I couldn't let him do something careless—not when he'd been admitted into MIT. His dream college. I wouldn't snuff out that opportunity, I wouldn't even risk it. A knock came from the door. I dreaded glancing its way, because I would find… Finn was leaning on the threshold, his mouth was twisted into that happy, smugish smile of his. I loved that smile.

Being forced to wipe away the cheeriness off his face was like taking a hammer to the chest. I didn't want to do this. I didn't… I didn't want Jackson—I just wanted Finn. He's going to leave you anyway, Jackson's spiteful words returned with a vengeance. I shut my eyes, readying myself; tears built. I kept them at bay, just barely. Finn tapped his hand on the wood again; gray eyes swept across my face. He pursed his lips, coming inside.

"Hey. What's wrong?" he moseyed on toward my bed. "Valerie?"

My gaze fell on my lap, where I was basically twiddling my thumbs. Anxious. Make a choice, Valerie. I swallowed a giant lump before lifting my head.

"I can't do this anymore, Finn."

Finn bent at the waist, wrapping his fingers on the woven iron design of my bed. We were almost at eye level. I could tell that the meaning of what I'd said hadn't registered. Finn cocked his head; strands of blond hair fell to the side.

"Do what?" his tone was clueless. I wanted to laugh. Because Finn could be so sexy, bossy and just… maddening. But other times, he was just this innocent—this sweet. And I was going to break his heart.

"This," I whispered. Finn's soft eyes seemed to smarten—the color became darker and turvy. "I can't do this—us—anymore." Finn stared at me. I waited for his brain to catch up. I watched him and…

Finn's mouth twisted in a small, strained smile with no humor in it.

"Is this a joke?"

My heart plummeted.

"No," yes, I wanted to say. "I can't deal with… with knowing you're going to leave. This will never work—I can't do long distance. I can't and… and we're too different."

"No, we're not—"

"Yes, we are. Finn. You're not part of my world, okay? We wouldn't work even if you stayed. Look," I repressed tears. Choked down a sob. "I'm not good with dealing with abandonment…"

"I know, but—"

"Then you need to understand my position! I thought I could do this… be with you… I thought I'd find a way to be fine with you leaving at the end of summer, but I'm not fine and—I think you're bad for me, Finn." In my head, I pictured Jackson. I imagined saying these things to him. He deserved to hear them. Finn's face falling apart would forever be imprinted in my memory. "I can't have this in my life—I don't want you."

"You don't mean that." He sounded so sure.

"Yes, I do." I rebuked resolutely, digging fingers into my crossed legs. I couldn't move. If I moved, I would throw my arms around him and wouldn't want to let go; I would have to tell him something I was so ashamed of and… God, I wanted to kill Jackson. "I'm sorry."

Finn's fingers slipped from the iron embellishment as he stood. His face was marred with confusion and disbelief. Finn walked around the bed, prepared to sit down beside me and I jolted—away. He stopped, stricken with sadness. His chest heaved as he took a step back like I was a frightened animal.

I bit the inside of my cheek.

"I don't understand." He whispered. "You were… We were happy. At least... I thought so." I looked away—finding Mom's old record collection. I remembered an afternoon of dancing on my bed with Finn, laughing and kissing… A tear slipped down my cheek. "Valerie," I snapped towards him. "Please don't do this."

"I'm sorry, Finn…" I croaked. Another tear broke free.

His gray eyes were brighter now, twinkling. He sucked in his bottom lip looking at the ceiling.

"Please," he breathed unsteadily. I closed my eyes, wishing I could will him away—wanting this to end, wishing he would just leave. I couldn't do this much longer. "I love you."

My eyes snapped open. Finn's hands were shaking at his sides. He waited. He loved me. He loves me, I heard myself chant like a mantra. Finn was in love with me and I had to sit here and be blackmailed into breaking up with him. This would mean nothing to me if I hadn't fallen in love with him too.

I wasn't just tearing out Finn's heart, I was tearing out mine and stomping on it with a stiletto heel. The urge to scream took over as hate for Jackson boiled over, stinging me worse than burning oil.

"Get out!" I yelled—words swallowed in a sob. "Get out! I don't want to be with you anymore—leave!" Finn was so startled his shoulders hunched like I'd threatened to pull a gun in his face. I had to scream again before his legs moved, carrying him slowly towards the door—away from me.

Simone must've heard me, because Finn backed into her. He spun around finally breaking eye contact. My heart throbbed—I dropped my head, hiding my face in my numb palms. I heard voices, then silence. I sat there, slobbering into my hands, feeling dead inside.

Finn's POV

I shouldn't be driving. Not at all. My ability to compartmentalize wasn't the best and was being seriously tested. What the actual fuck had just happened? Were we really broken up? It felt like the floor had split and cracked at Valerie's spiteful words. It felt like I was falling indefinitely. I rubbed a temple as traffic piled up on Brooklyn Bridge. Every word, every moment, every thought, running through my mind was about us—about our time together. I was… I was… What the hell? How had she gone from all-sunshine-and-rainbows to tears-and-stormy-weathers? Just a couple of days ago, we'd agreed to fight for us—she'd confided in me about her suicide attempt for Pete's sake! How had she…

I banged a hand on the wheel.

"Fuck."

Getting home felt like an eternity spent in hell. By the feeling of it, I was still trudging through slimy, hot magma. The wheels in my brain had stopped turning, jammed by the recurring memory of my love confession to Valerie and her yelling for me to leave. I slammed my door shut, uncaring about being alone or not. Was I behaving like a five-year-old throwing a tantrum? I grabbed my hair, breathing through my nose; I pressed my lips together to keep from screaming. I sat on my bed, glaring at nothing but feeling an unexplainable pain in my chest. As if a heavy boulder had been dropped on it. Breathing was getting harder with each second as the weight slowly crushed my ribs a little more, before ultimately grinding them to dust and squishing my insides like a grape. Was this what it had been like for Valerie? Wrong move. Her name tore a strangled sound from within me. I sat there unable to process why this was happening. It didn't make sense. She couldn't have faked every time we'd been together—I wouldn't accept that. So… The only reason had to be college. Right? She couldn't have forged those smiles, the laughs, the sounds she made when… when we…

You're bad for me.

I clenched my fists. She'd told me things were getting better, that exposing herself to Ava and me was helping… It didn't add up. But what was I supposed to do? She'd practically kicked me out. I needed to shut down. Otherwise, I was going to wonder if Trip had been right all along; I would question my feelings for her—if the person I'd fallen for ever existed or if Valerie had been playing some sick game with me. And that—that would hurt more than anything, because I had developed deep feelings for her, they'd started out like small roots, stabbing my heart and gorging on my blood, growing thicker until they managed to bind the muscle in a constricting hold. What I wouldn't give for a hacksaw to cut them out.

***

Dinner was short. I barely ate. I didn't talk. April kept her blabbering to a minimum, as if she knew I was mad at the world and would use anyone as an outlet if given the chance. I was radiating tension. Mom was the only one brave enough to ask what was wrong; I shot her down without a word, getting up to place my dishes in the washer. I checked my phone before going to bed: nothing. I wanted to call her, to vent my frustration. Ask her why a thousand times over. Instead, I set down the phone.

***

One day. Two days. Three days.

That's how long it had been since I'd last seen Valerie. I wish I could say I was doing better, that I wasn't wallowing in self-pity, shutting myself away from the world, but I was doing just that. Yesterday, I'd gone off on April because she asked why I hadn't done the chores appointed to me by her chore board. She spent the whole day avoiding me. So, when Trip's voice came through the door, I was shocked. And dizzy with lack of sleep. Lack of food. Both. Either way, I leaned on the frame once I opened my bedroom door.

"You look like shit."

I cocked my head against the threshold.

"What are you doing here?" Trip frowned at the raspy sound of my voice; to be fair, I hadn't talked to anyone all day and my throat felt scratchy, like I'd downed a whole cup of grainy sand instead of water.

"Your sister called." What was it with April exchanging numbers with everyone in my life? "She's worried. She told me you haven't left the house in days. So, my first question is: do you have Valerie stashed in there? And if the answer is yes, have you guys been keeping hydrated?"

Trip sucked in a big breath, letting the sexual innuendo drop. He hung his head.

"I was trying to lighten the mood. I know that face. Are we going to stare at each other or are you going to talk to me?"

I still didn't want to talk about the… breakup. But my other option was to slam the door in my best friend's face and stew in the darkness of my room—alone—going half mad. If the highs of my relationship with Valerie had been like floating near the ozone layer, the lows were like being buried at Earth's core. I dropped my arm, stepping back. Trip sat on the beanbag.

"Valerie broke up with me." It was out after the door clicked shut.

I got to see Trip pucker his lips as I whirled around. He clucked his tongue.

"That was easy. I thought I'd have to pry it out of you." I ruffled my hair, stumbling to my bed. I should've been embarrassed, it was a complete mess of tossed sheets. "Look man, I'm sorry." His awkward sympathy wasn't as comforting as I wished. "What happened?"

Trip not insulting her outright was proof that Valerie had been different lately, not just with me.

"I don't know."

"You don't know?"

"Yeah." I licked my lips. "I mean—everything was great. She…" I stopped myself; there was no way I'd betray Valerie's trust, I would never tell anyone about the problems she faced. "I got into MIT—"

"Ava told me." Which meant Valerie had told Ava. Circle of trust stroke again. "Thanks for sharing, buddy. Anyway, Ava told me the whole shebang, about Valerie being upset about you guys being so far apart."

I found myself shaking my head, "We talked about it. We decided we were going to give it a shot, to make it work."

Trip crossed his arms.

"I'm going to level with you, Finn. Between the random girls I slept with and Ava, there was this other girl I was serious about. Things didn't end well between us. Once it ended, she was fine. I wasn't. I started down a bad road. Gabe put up with it. One night, he had to call an ambulance because I passed out from alcohol poisoning. After that, he did everything to pull my head out of my ass."

I know I should've been empathetic to Trip's sharing-and-caring moment, but I'd heard so many sap stories at the anger management meetings that, to a degree, I was vaccinated against them.

"I'm not doing anything wrong."

"No. You're just sitting in your room looking like a hermit." I sent him a glare. "It doesn't seem like you guys left things right. So, as I see it, you have two options. You can either get closure and find a way to move on or you can fight for her."

"I don't want to be a stalker."

"I'm not telling you to stalk her. I'm telling you to talk to her. She could just be acting out of fear, Finn." I pushed around the lump in my throat. "Long distance relationships are scary. Most of the time, they don't work."

I took a moment to gather my thoughts as best as I could. There was a part of me that hoped Trip was right, while another part, didn't want to hope.

"Did you love her? That girl that messed you up?"

"No, I didn't." he said without hesitation.

I rubbed the back of my neck, eyelids slipping shut. After Trip left, I found myself glaring at my phone. I stared at it for God knows how long before picking it up and dialing her number. My call was rejected on the seventh beep.