I stayed home for seven days. I had become sick after being drugged, I couldn't go to church, school or anywhere. I don't know if it's the effects of the drugs that Tina gave to me or just the shock of what she did to me.
Seven long, hollow days filled with soup I couldn’t taste, text messages I didn’t reply to, and J.J’s voice replaying in my head—“You matter too much to me.” which he said to me last night, l loved when he said those kinds of things to me.
I should’ve felt safe. I was home. My aunt hovered over me with quiet love, and J.J dropped by every day, sometimes just sitting on the edge of my bed without saying anything. But the real noise was inside me: shame, confusion, guilt, fear.
Mostly fear.
Fear of what came next.
I knew school wouldn’t wait forever. I couldn’t live in the shell of my room forever either. I had to get up. Wash my hair. Tie my laces. Face the halls. Face her.
So that Monday, I did.
The moment I stepped out of Aunt Pat’s car and walked up the steps of C
