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“So… you’ve just been lying about this for 7 months?” She leaned against the car as he scrubbed the blood on the backseat.
“I wouldn’t say I was lying,” he told her, “you never asked. I’ve been hiding it for 7 months.” She huffed, folding the wet cloth in her hands.
“This isn’t a joke. Why didn’t you tell me? You made me feel so stupid last night.” He drew back, standing beside her and adjusting the bloody cloth he was using to clean. His expression looked sadder than she had seen it in a long time, since that night at the Spring Fling. He looked empty and broken.
“I’m sorry, I’m really sorry… I didn’t tell you because it’s something I never wanted to be. God,” he sighed, “Jess, I hate it. I hate having this fucking guilty secret that I can’t talk about, I can’t share, and I can’t get rid of. It’s killing me.” Then he laughed, dryly. “But that's the fucking point, isn't it? To kill me.” She took the cloth out of his hands so she could hold them in her own.
“But you don’t want to die, do you? We can fix this.” He pulled away, shaking his head.
“I don’t want to die. But I can’t stop. I can’t fucking stop. It’s like… survival. It’s killing me, but if I stop, I want to stop… everything” Her hands dropped to her sides, she was exasperated, she searched his face for meaning.
“What are you–“ she wanted to meet his eyes but his head was hung in such a state of guilt she couldn’t even see his face. “Talk to me about it.”
“I can’t,” his voice was barely even a whisper.
“You can,” she assured him, “whatever it is that you’re so ashamed of, whatever you feel guilty about, just pretend I’m not me. Pretend I’m some complete stranger.” He shook his head.
“But you’re not. You're the opposite of a stranger.”
“Please,” she begged, “I love you and I want to help you. I know you want help, and I know you love me, too.” He couldn’t meet her eyes.
“Can we go somewhere else?” She nodded, and even though he didn’t see it, he knew.
He took her to an abandoned area by the river, down stream where the boats never docked and no one ever walked. It was early in the morning and the sun hadn’t peaked in the sky. They both tightened their hold on their jackets, with there being so few trees to block the blow of the wind. They wandered the path until he stopped at a bridge.
“This is creepy,” she joked, “how do you know about this place?” He leaned against the brick wall, folding his arms and watching the stream below.
“The first time I ran away from home I was seven,” he explained, “and we lived a few streets away from here. So I walked and I walked until I ended up all alone, at this place, and I slept all night by this bridge, but when I went home the next morning no one cared.” Jess watched his face fall. “My mom was passed out, she never even noticed I had left. Her boyfriend gave me some food. He was waiting up for me.” His head hung as he spoke, his voice was quiet, and Jess stood right beside him and even then she could barely hear him over the hum of the river. “That was the night I realised that I’d always be better off alone. That the safest place I could go was here.” She mustered up the softest voice she could and asked him.
“What happened?” His head lifted, and he looked out, never meeting her eyes. She watched him as he considered answering her question, answering it truthfully, and it was times like this where she didn’t mind the little white lies, because she knew the truth was something that even he didn’t understand.
“He tried to…” his breathing hitched and there were tears in his eyes as she watched him relive his trauma right there beside her. “He tried to rape me.” He told her. “And it wasn’t the first time.” Jess opened her mouth to say something but she was completely speechless. “He started dating my mom when I was five. He lived with us, on and off, for a few years. And when–and when she would black out he would come into my room and he would…do stuff to me.” They both leaned against the railing, watching the river, as he spoke. Jess held her breath, dreading everything that he was about to say. “At first, he would just sit there next to me. He would just stare. Then he started to touch me, and he would be…” he refused to say it but she understood. “And he would make me do things. To him. And he would do stuff… to himself.” He shook his head. “So I ran away one night. And it was the first time I was ever free from that place. And I promised myself that I would never go back again.” She frowned.
“But you did.” He was solemn.
“He left a few months later, but I never stopped being afraid. Afraid of what the next guy would do to me. And not long after that I met Bryce. So, while I never stopped being afraid, with Bryce, at least, I always knew there was somewhere I could go to escape.” Jess wiped a tear from her cheek.
“Have you ever told anyone about it?” He shook his head.
“No. No, just you.” She let out a breath, her hand reaching across the railing to hold his.
“I’m so sorry,” she told him, “I’m sorry that it happened, and I’m sorry that you’ve had to keep it bottled up for so long.” He sighed.
“There’s… there’s more.” Her lips parted in surprise. She didn’t speak, she didn’t know what to say, instead she squeezed his hand. “When I was on the streets, and I needed money for like food, or drugs, I would do stuff to guys. But, sometimes we would do things that we didn’t talk about, but that I didn’t want to do.” She watched him shut his eyes, as if he were shutting the memories out. “I just felt like I was five again. But this time it was all my fault.” She moved closer to him.
“Hey,” she told him softly, “it was not your fault.” He didn’t meet her eyes. “I can’t believe that this happened to you, and you've just been letting me preach to you about recovery and you’ve helped me, and all this time you needed just as much help.” She sighed. “I should have known. The heroin, being on the streets, just the way you were when you came back. And I should have asked, I should have talked to you about it.” He didn’t let her spiral into a process of self loathing and regret, he stopped her before she could go on.
“No, Jess. I pushed it aside for you. You needed to recover, and I wanted to help you so badly, I wanted to make it better for you. The way I should have done from the beginning. The way I wish I had.” Then, she watched as he almost smiled. “It felt so good just to see you get better, and to help you. Sometimes I woke up and I thought I could quit, that I could be strong enough. And I tried. I don’t think there is any better therapy than just watching you get better, become stronger and happier.” Her teary smile fell as she realised what he was implying.
“Because it’s me, isn’t it? I’m the reason you’re using. Or… I was the reason you started. Right?” He nodded reluctantly. She stared out at the water and mustered up her courage. “Tell me about it,” she said gently, “tell me about that night. Your experience of that night.”
“But the tape–“
“Fuck the tape. Fuck Hannah, and her fucking tapes.” She took a breath. “Those tapes ruined lives, yours and mine, not to mention many others. Hannah knew what Hannah knew. I want to hear it from you. I want to hear your truth.” His head was hung and she softened her tone. “Whatever it was that happened, it can’t be worse than what those tapes said. Okay? I’ll still love you, no matter what.” She knew she shouldn’t have promised something like that. But after everything that had happened, she couldn't imagine his betrayal being any more damning than a Hannah’s drunk recollection. When Hannah told that story it was about herself, her pain, her terror, and her inability to stop what she thought Justin let happen that night. Jessica had never heard Justin’s view of how it happened, she was always too afraid to ask, and he had never been eager to admit to her his worst mistake.
“I don’t expect you to love me,” he said, “after I tell you.”
“Okay,” she whispered. He turned away from the water, and his back slid down the railing until he was just sitting there at her feet. He wasn’t present. His mind was back there, in the hallway of her house, reliving memories he had pushed away for so long.
“You passed out, and I went to stand outside the door. I thought, well, I saw some people come out of the rooms next to it, and I didn’t want anyone to go inside while you were unconscious. So I stood outside the door, until you were ready.” His breathing was shaky as she crouched beside him on the pavement. “Then Bryce showed up and he asked me to go play some game, or something, and I told him that I couldn’t. I told him you were drunk, you were passed out, but he wanted to go inside. And I said no. You should have seen his eyes, he was laughing. He thought it was funny. He asked to see and I didn’t know what to say to stop him. I remember thinking I should tell him that you were asleep, but that look in his eyes, I knew it wouldn’t make him leave.” Tears came to his eyes again, and Jess wanted to make it stop but she couldn’t. It was a story that needed to be told, and if he didn’t tell it now, she wondered if he ever would.
“I was so scared Jess. That look in his eyes, it fucking terrified me. I’d never seen him look like that. And he looked like… that look in his eyes… it made me feel like I was a kid again. And I was helpless. I knew that you being unconscious wasn’t going to stop him, and so I hoped that he would respect me, and that we were dating, enough to just go away. He didn’t. He wanted to go in there, and he would stop at nothing.” He wiped away a tear, no longer was he angry at Bryce, that had passed long ago. Now he just hated himself. “I thought if I ignored him he would go away. I considered what to do. Maybe if I went back inside he would go, but if I opened that door he would get in there, whatever it took. I thought maybe I could punch him. But, he was far more sober than I was, he was bigger, and he's never lost a fight. And I know that’s not an excuse. He stopped waiting for me to fight back, he stopped waiting for me to give in. I don’t know what he expected me to do. And he shoved me, and I just couldn't stop him. I’ve been shoved, and hit, and kicked and fucking strangled so many times in my life that now I just let it happen. Bryce was just like them. He was just like every single abusive man who had ever hurt me, or my mom.” Justin ran a hand over his face, avoiding her stare. Jessica had always thought he let Bryce open the door. Hannah never told this story, and her heart was heavy for him.
“He went inside… he went in and I couldn’t think. I was in the hallway and I didn’t know what to do. I thought, maybe he just wanted to look, he wanted to be a fucking pervert. I tried to convince myself that's all he was doing. So I went back into the room. I tried to stop him, he was on top of you, and I tried to pull him off. But he got so angry, he was so full of rage, he just yelled and he shoved me out. Then he locked the door. It was so quick, and I couldn’t even fight back. I didn’t know how to. And I felt so afraid. For you. For me. For everyone at that party.” He put his head in his hands, and while Jessica had never listened to his testimony for Hannah’s trial, she knew it had never been this emotional. This was how he felt. He had no end goal, he wasn’t fighting for Bryce to be arrested, or for Hannah’s innocence in a trial. He was trying to make sense of his own memory, his own story. Not Jessica’s, not Hannah’s, not Bryce’s. His story. “I just sat there. On the floor. I was so afraid. All I could think about was what he was doing to you. Of how it would feel to be inside there. Unconscious, drunk, in your own bed. To go through that. And it just brought up all these memories from when I was a kid. I knew just how it would feel, Jess. And I let that happen because I couldn't stop him. I sat there listening, and I just felt… empty.” She wiped away her own tears staring at the cracks in the pavement.
“I thought of asking for help. Of breaking down the door, or fuck, I don’t know, calling the police. But by the time I was able to stand up… it was over. I knew that by the time any police arrived, it would be over, and you would still have been raped. And I couldn't change that. I couldn’t face him, face what I had just witnessed him do to you, so I got up and I left. I never saw him again that night. He was hanging around the house and so I had to go, anywhere but there. I walked the streets all night. I don’t think I stopped walking for hours. I thought of what to do, how I could fix it but there was nothing I could do to fix you, and what had been done to you that night… That’s why I lied. And it was wrong, I know. It never occurred to me that I was letting a fucking rapist get away with what he had done. I thought if you didn’t know, then, it’d be like it never happened. And we could go back to normal, and you would never be sad. Or broken… broken like me.” He wiped the tears from his face. “I used to sit up and cry every night when I was a kid, after it… after it happened. I still have nightmares, sometimes. I used so many different fucking drugs and I drank myself fucking blind to escape it all. I never wanted that to be you, I never wanted you to need to escape. And I thought about Bryce, about how he changed my life and he gave me my life. And I felt so torn and broken because I just didn’t know what to do. I didn’t want to lose my best friend, he was my life, Jess. I didn’t have anyone else to count on.” He shut his eyes tightly, he was so full of shame and regret. “God. I fucked up. I’m so sorry. I ruined your life, and I ruined the lives of so many other girls that he raped after you. I fucking, I fucking hate myself, Jess. I hate what I did. And there are no words to express how sorry I am. And I know. I know I should have done more. I know that being scared isn’t an excuse. I needed to be there for you. You needed me, and I let you down. There is no excuse for that. Fear isn’t an excuse for letting him do it.” When he tried to stand, to get away from her heartbroken expression, she went after him.
“No, no. Stop!” She held his wrists to stop him from getting up. “That’s not fear. That’s trauma, and it’s understandable.” He was staring right at her, attentive to her every word. She let him go. “Fuck,” she breathed, “all this time I thought you just let him in. Just let it happen because you were scared. And you were. But I didn’t know that it was something like that that scared you.” She wiped a lone tear from his cheek. “Why did you never tell your side of the story? Why didn’t you talk to someone about it?” He frowned.
“Jess… how do I tell that story without telling someone what happened to me as a kid? I wasn't ready for that. And for so long, fuck, until today, I thought it wouldn't change anything between us. It was your story, Jess. It wasn’t mine, and I had no right to make it my story. That night was about you. It doesn’t fucking matter what I did.” Jess sighed.
“Justin, I’m sorry. Clay really fucked up when he released those tapes. Actually, Hannah fucked up when she made those tapes in the first place. She recounted the story of how I was raped and then she sent it out to people.” Jess looked into his eyes, they were desperate and full of regret. “Justin, that was how I found out I was raped. Through a fucking tape. I mean, how could she do that to me? She never told me. And when she did it was on tapes she threatened to send out into the world if I didn’t let another nine strangers hear it.” Frustrated, Jess finally let out her bottled rage. “Survivors should tell their own stories. In their own words. When they're ready. Hannah told my story. It wasn’t hers to tell, but she did it anyway and then she escaped the consequences.” She huffed a sigh. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to unload on you, when you were opening up,” he looked unfazed, if anything he was grateful to have the subject changed for a minute. “I just… I’ve felt this way for a while. And I could never tell Alex, or Casey, or anyone because they just didn’t get it. Hannah’s story of that night didn’t matter more than mine. The whole school now has this idea of how I was raped, and they have this idea of how you let it happen. They think they know our shit but they fucking don’t. They think they have this right to fucking judge us, and I’ve judged us, and I’ve judged you. And it’s all because of those fucking tapes. She had no right.”
“Jess, I’m sorry.” She stopped him.
“No. Stop apologising. You tried to stop those tapes getting out, and we both did some fucked up things to Hannah on our tapes. But tape 9 should never have been yours, or mine. It should never have existed. What did she think would happen? She didn’t name me on the the tape but for fuck sake, we were dating… Who fucking else would you be with at that party? Fuck it.” Justin shook his head at her, holding her hands in his.
“Hannah was hurting, Jess. What she did to you, to me, to us, it was fucked up. But she’s gone and we need to move on from her version of what happened to us, and just exist as we are.” Jess nodded.
“Rewrite it. Rewrite our story. Not mine, not yours, not Hannah’s. Ours.” She watched his gentle expression. “I wanna be there for you. Like you were for me. I’m gonna help you get clean.” He wanted to smile but he just couldn’t after baring his trauma and soul to her, it was still in his mind, still raw.
“I love you.” So she smiled for him.
“I love you.”