We Are Us

Chapter 14 Worthington University

Fall Semester, Freshman Year

As soon as she leaves, I gingerly get out of the hospital bed and change into my jeans and sweatshirt. My entire body aches, and I feel like an octogenarian instead of an eighteen-year-old college student.

I reach for the bag containing my clothes from last night but, even knotted tightly, the smell emanating from it is nauseating. After one whiff, I throw it in the garbage.

It seems fitting that all the physical evidence of… whatever transpired, is in the same trash bin together. I’m glad to leave it behind.

Emerging into the main waiting room, I cross my arms in front of me, trying to make myself as small as possible. Right now, I wish I could disappear.

Michael is waiting in a chair, and he jumps up when he sees me. “Poppy, hey. So glad you’re okay.”

I hold up a hand to keep him from coming too close. “Believe me, you want to stay as far away as you can.” The sour smell of vomit clings to my skin, like Linus’s dirt cloud in a Peanuts cartoon.

He freezes, his soft brown eyes shining with concern behind rectangular framed glasses. “Don’t worry about that. Come on, let’s get you back to the dorm.”

I follow Michael out the exit and into the parking lot. “Thanks for coming to get me.”

It’s a dreary November day, and I swallow another wave of nausea as a cold wind gusts, blowing my disgusting hair into my face.

Will I ever not feel like I’m on the verge of throwing up?

“Of course, of course.” He fishes his keys out of his pocket, pointing them at a red Honda. There is a click as the doors unlock and I slide in, immediately lowering the window. “I’m so sorry. I can’t imagine this was a part of the job description when you signed up.”

Michael lowers his window, too, and pulls slowly out of his parking spot. “Poppy, really. It’s not a problem.”

Tears prick my eyes. Everyone is being so nice—the nurse, the doctor, Michael—but I’m pretty sure things will change once I get back on campus. Teenagers are vicious. “Can I ask you.” I take a quick breath, not knowing where to start. “About last night? What you saw. What others saw.”

“Um, yeah. Sure.” Michael pulls onto a main road, busies himself adjusting his mirrors. “Not much. Tucker came ru

Shame wraps around my chest, compressing my lungs. “Was anyone else around?”

“In the room with you? No, just Tucker. By the time the ambulance arrived, there were a few people on the floor. But only a few.”

A few could mean three or thirteen, but I don’t press for a more exact number. “Did they see?”

“In the room—no. But they did see you get taken out.” He glances over at me. “Listen, you’re not the first person to wind up in the hospital after a night of binge drinking your freshman year and, unfortunately, I’m sure you won’t be the last. It happened, but you’re fine and now life can go on.”

I don’t feel fine. I feel like an idiot. And fragile. And like I’ve lost something, something I can’t even define but that is important. Self-respect. Confidence. Feeling safe in my own skin. “You’re right,” I lie. “Thanks.”

We arrive on campus a few minutes later, and it is exactly the same and yet completely different. Not nearly as i

Gavin.

The trees have begun to turn colors, vibrant reds and golds bursting from within the lush green landscape. Memories of another autumn day press heavily on my heart. Leaves fluttering to the ground like confetti. Broken shards of sunlight piercing through a shadowy, mysterious forest. And a boy who had treated my body as if it was sacred and special. A precious gift.

My hand flies to my throat, needing proof that those memories are real. Tactile confirmation of the best, most sacred moments of my life. Maybe it was just an illusion, but right now, I need to believe that I was once loved.

But instead of grasping moonstone, my fingers close around empty air, my nails scratching skin.

Horror hits me like a mallet striking bone, shattering my remaining strength.

My pendant is gone.

Just like Gavin.

Could it have been ripped away by the paramedics? Was it in the bag of filthy clothes I’d thrown away?

I’ll call the hospital as soon as I get back to my room.

A brutal cold penetrates my clothes and I swathe my terror in silence. Is this karma? Maybe I’ve lost the right to wear Gavin’s necklace. It represents something I no longer deserve.

Trudging upstairs, I am weighed down by guilt and regret and disgust. I keep my eyes on my shoes, not wanting to see anyone until I’ve showered. Or maybe ever. But it’s Saturday, and the dorm is filled with students. I walk silently, my head bowed, hurrying to my closed door. My closed, locked door.

Shit.

But Michael holds up the universal key all RA’s are given. “No worries.” Lock-outs aren’t uncommon.

I mumble another thanks and slip inside, quickly grabbing my robe, towel, and shower caddy full of toiletries.

Although the floor is co-ed, the bathrooms are not. Inside the girl’s bathroom, one of the showers is in use, but other than that, it is empty. Turning the water to its hottest setting, I quickly undress and slip beneath the spray. It stings my skin, but I welcome the pain. If I could make it hotter, I would.

The heat doesn’t penetrate where I need it most though. Places deep inside my body that are crusted with ice. Permanently stained by something I can’t even remember.

But the pain on my skin somewhat balances out the pain in my heart. Scrubbing my body dulls, if only slightly, the ragged edges of my shame.

I shampoo and condition my hair once, twice, three times, letting the sudsy water drip down my face and sting my eyes. I scratch at my scalp with my fingernails until I’m sure the skin is flayed and raw. Until I’ve created a thousand shallow cuts that no one but me will know are there.

I don’t want to leave this small enclosure. Here, my tears run straight into the drain, and I can stuff my fist in my mouth to stifle my sobs. Here, I am alone, the sound of the water a buffer between me and whatever is waiting beyond these three walls and the thin white shower curtain.

Eventually, the water cools. Only a few degrees, but it feels like a betrayal. Another one.

When I return to my room, skin pink, eyes bloodshot and red-rimmed, Wren and Tucker—Tucker—are both there. My stomach lurches as I clutch my bathrobe to my chest, squeezing the terrycloth inside my fist.

They sit on her bed, their penetrating stares ripping into me.

God, I want to disappear. Either invisible or dead, I don’t care.

“You’re back,” Wren says, stating the obvious.

I nod.

Tucker glances at Wren and then jerks his chin toward the door. Her lips snap together in a straight line and she stands, striding past me without saying another word, her expression glacial.

My roommate is the last person I would ask for support or comfort, but I want to scream, Don’t go!

Because once she leaves, I will be alone. With Tucker.

Yesterday, I would have been flattered by his interest.

Today, I’m… not.