NORMAL (40 page)

"Yesterday?" he asks.

I nod.

He swallows audibly. "He do this before?"

"Yeah," I breathe.

"When?"

I shrug. "Yesterday, a couple days ago, last Saturday... whenever I stayed over there, you know, for the weekend-"

"Damn it!" Cam roars. He stands from the bed and starts pacing his bedroom, back and forth. This pulls me out of my sorrowful ball and I lift my head and scoot to the edge of the bed. I watch him until he pauses a few feet in front of me. "When was the first time?" he demands.

"The night after he signed with UFL. After Marcus's party, you know, the night you introduced me to Laura," I reply. Cam shoves his fingers through his hair before resuming his aggravated pacing.

"Months! This has been goin' on for
months!
" he yells.

I look down. Yes. It has been going on for months. Robin hurt me again and again and I kept going back for more. My tears fall silently as I wait for Cam's judgment. For him to ask why I stayed with Robin, why I kept
asking for it.

"Oh, God, Ror!" He's desperate, his voice laced with guilt, and I can't understand why. "I'm sorry, so sorry, fuck!"

I jump up.
He's sorry? What the fuck for?

"No, Cam. It's my fault, why are
you
sorry?" I ask.

He stops in front of me, shocked.
What did I say to shock him?

"Don't you ever say that!" he shouts at me, and I flinch again. In fact, I practically
cower
.

Cam and I have shouted at each other plenty. Like all best friends who have known each other a lifetime, we've had our share of arguments. But I've always been one to give as well as I get. A loud voice never bothered me, but now...

Cam registers my reaction - however involuntary - at his raised voice, and this, too, I know he understands is because of Robin. It devastates and infuriates him at once, I can see it in his eyes. He takes a deep breath. "No, Ror, I'm sorry. I won't yell. But,
God
... don't you ever say that again, okay? This is not your fault. This is
his
fault. This is
my
fault. But this ain't
your
fault. No fucking way, okay?"

I shake my head. "How- how can this possibly be your fault?" I whisper, puzzled.

"Because, Rory! Because, I should've protected you!
Fuck
. I knew somethin' was up with you. Somethin' was wrong. But I never thought... fuck!" He rakes his hand harshly through his hair again.

"No, Cam! You can't just fix everything for me! This ain't a damn bee sting. I'm not your responsibility. I don't know why I didn't break it off after he did it the first time. I don't know what's wrong with me. But I do know none of this is your damn fault," I mutter pitifully.

Cam brushes away my tears with his thumb, then slowly brings his lips to each of my cheeks, one at a time, and kisses their remnants away.

"You
are
my responsibility," he whispers. "You've
always
been my responsibility. We've always taken care of each other, you and me." He takes a deep breath. "I need you to tell me everything, Ror, okay?"

I shake my head. He doesn't need details, they will only upset him more.

"Please," he begs.

"Cam, it won't change anything," I whisper. He shakes his head.

"Please, Rory. I need to know. And you need to tell someone. Please." He's pleading, and he seems so tormented that I worry he must be imagining it was even worse than it was. And how can I deny him the truth when I'm the cause of his pain?

I sit back on the edge of the bed, look down, and I do it, I tell him.

"He'd been aggressive before. Touched me when I'd asked him to stop. I'd even smacked him once, but he got real mad. But he had never..." I pause to fight back tears. "That night, he was upset. He'd heard me tell you I love you. You know, when we were leavin' the party. He came upstairs after I'd gone to bed... said he shouldn't have to listen to me tell another man I love 'em. Said I was his." I close my eyes a moment, remembering how things had gone from playful and fun to painful and scary so quickly. How many times it'd happened since.

"He just, you know, held me down... and forced me. But then, after, he cuddled me, like it was normal, you know, sex." My voice is soft and timid, and I wonder if Cam has ever heard me sound like this. I barely even recognize myself, but I continue nonetheless. "I told him I wasn't ready, but he said I was playin' hard to get. That I'd never feel ready all on my own, that I needed to trust him. That he'd waited six months and it was time. That's when he started talkin' about wantin' to marry me, and all kinds of sweet talk. I told him I didn't wanna do it again until I was ready, and he agreed...

"But when I stayed over there a couple weeks later... he did it again. The same damn thing. I tried to fight, but he liked it when I fought back, it... excited him, I think. I asked him why he did it again when he'd agreed he'd wait 'til I was ready, but he just said he meant he'd wait ‘til I wasn't sore anymore from the last time. Like he was doin' me some big favor." I sniffle back tears before continuing. I can't imagine what Cam is thinking right now. He's quiet and pensive, taking it all in, and I don't allow myself to wonder what he thinks of me, because if I do I won't be able to keep talking. "It... hurt. Not just the first time. Every damn time." My voice is quiet. I want to soften the blow of my words, I think.

When I peek back up at Cam he is still as a statue. His entire body is stiff with tension. From his stance, I expect to see fury in his eyes, but instead, when I meet his gaze, I find profound despair.

And damn if there aren't tears in his eyes. I haven't seen Cam cry since his father died when we were seven.

He opens his mouth as if to speak, but says nothing, then closes it again before sitting beside me on the bed and dropping his head. "I'll never... I can't...," he whispers. He doesn’t have to finish either sentence for me to know what he means. He’ll never, he can’t…
forgive himself.

I shake my head, hating that he's drowning in guilt despite his inability to articulate it right now. "No, Cam, you-"

"Yes, Rory, I.
I! I
should have known.
I
should have protected you.
I
should have been here for you!" He reaches over and grabs my wrists and begins to stroke them with his thumbs, but I'm not expecting the contact and I wince. Cam's eyes widen in shock and I watch in horror as he realizes I'm hurt.

Without further warning he yanks my sleeves up to reveal the deep rings of black and blue around my wrists.

His eyes dart from the offending bruises to my eyes and back again. I am powerless as I watch him connect the dots between my wrists, to Robin, to the turtleneck I know it is now obvious I'm wearing only to conceal injury.

His gaze never leaves mine as he slowly reaches up to the top of the fabric covering my neck, and carefully pulls it down. Cam gasps when he reveals the shape of Robin's open palm, in deep purple, around my neck. He says nothing as he lets the cotton out of his grasp. His jaw clenches, his nostrils flaring as he grits his teeth.

His fingers move to the hem of my shirt, and he carefully lifts it, watching me for my consent, which I give him wordlessly. He lifts my shirt and I raise my arms to assist him.

Now I sit topless but for my bra, in front of my best friend for the first time since I'd grown breasts, albeit modest ones, and there is nothing sexual about it. He surveys my skin, and I know he's taking in every bruise, every scratch, every bite mark.

"Oh, Rory, no," he whispers. His eyes close, and his thick lashes fan his cheeks. I know Cam, I know he's battling between grief and rage. Thankfully, he buries his rage for my sake, at least for right now.

"What the hell, Ror?" he asks, his voice no more than a whisper. "He's been beatin' you? Bitin' you? Fuckin'
chokin
' you?!
What the hell?!
"

I shake my head. "No. I mean, yeah, he's pushed me around a little, but nothin' more than a bruise here and there or some pulled hair," I explain. I don't want Cam to think Robin's been hitting me all the time. It wasn't like that. "He didn't beat on me. Not really. He was just real upset when I tried to break up with him yesterday, and he, well you know, he did it again. In the locker room at school. He was just more aggressive about it than usual."

Cam leans into me, our faces barely inches apart, intently eye to eye. "You mean, more aggressive than
rape
?" he asks carefully. He shakes his head. "Damn it Rory! 'Pushed you around a little'? That's abuse! That's fuckin' assault! Fuck!" He drops his face into his hands and catches his breath. When he looks over at me again his eyes are serious, desperate. "Forbes raped you in the locker room at school? Yesterday?" he asks.

I nod. Cam's the first one to use the
R
word besides my dad, and my dad was trying to blame it on me. Somehow, naming it, calling it
rape
, makes it that much more real. With every word, Cam just keeps stripping away all of the gray that I've been living in for so long, that I've been clinging to. And as he shines a spotlight on the black and white, I try not to drown in shame.

"I messed up, Cam," I murmur despondently. "I waited 'til right before we were supposed to leave for Gainesville to tell him I didn't wanna go. He came to pick me up at school after the basketball game, and I told him. I said I needed space, and I thought he took it okay. I was worried he'd be angry, but... he just seemed real sad."

Cam shakily lifts his hand and gently brushes over the preserved mold of Robin's teeth on the cleavage of my right breast. For the first time I can remember, I can't read his expression. "It doesn't look like he took it okay," he whispers.

"No. He didn't. He followed me into the girls locker room. I didn't hear him comin'." I swallow anxiously as I remember the events of the previous afternoon. There's no way to sugar coat this. "He, uh... pushed me up against the wall. And, you know, like I said, he did it again. He was tryin' to make a point - that I couldn't end it. That I was his, that I didn't have a say."

"He coulda killed you, Ror." Cam is tormented by my words, I know, and I can do nothing to fix it. I can't make them untrue. Though,
God
, how I wish I could.

Once again, I am completely powerless. As powerless as Robin made sure to demonstrate. I loathe the feeling more than anything. And Cam is right, Robin could have killed me. He still could, if he finds some way to get me alone, if he loses control.

"He didn't," I reply softly, mostly to comfort Cam. He brushes my neck with his knuckles.

"He ever do that before? Put his hands on your throat?" he asks tentatively.

I shake my head adamantly. "Never. Like I said, he was makin' a point. I know it. He had his hand over my mouth at first, because, you know, I was screamin'. But it was covering my nose too and I couldn't breathe. I don't think he meant to cut off my air at first, but then when he realized..."

I pause for a moment and involuntarily bring my own fingers to my throat. "He, uh... he made me say I belonged to him, and then... then he choked me. The whole time he kept... well, you know. He was proving that he could do what he wants to me, including decide if I can breathe or not," I explain. I don't describe the maniacal look in Robin’s eyes as he intently watched the terror in mine, or the fact that I'm not sure
he
even knew if he was going to let go or not.

I don't know why I'm explaining any of this to Cam. I don't want to make him more angry than I'm sure he already is. But the truth is I'm still scared. Because Robin wasn't just
trying
to make a point. He made it quite effectively. He can take my life into his hands whenever he chooses. And I know I need to figure out something to do, but I'm not sure what, and I'm not sure how I can stop him. Obviously breaking up with him didn't work.

"You musta been so damn scared," Cam breathes. If my tears ever fully stopped, they're back now in full force.

"I couldn't breathe," I admit. I know he knows this already. This isn't just a small mark, this is a deep, dark, contusion that spans nearly the entire circumference of my throat. I know I should stop talking, stop detailing the horror of it all, but for some reason, admitting it to my best friend, it gives me a small slice of relief, and I'm desperate for it.

Cam leans in slowly and I don't move. I think he's going to kiss me again, but his lips aim lower, and he brushes them ever so gently against the skin of my neck, as if he can kiss it and make it better. And, even if only slightly, it does.

"
God,
it kills me how you talk about bein' pushed around, about screamin' for help, about bein' fuckin'
raped
so damn matter-of-factly. Like it's just a normal part of life." He shoves his fingers roughly through his hair. "Fuck, and it was for you, wasn't it? You know that ain't how it's supposed to be, right? It's not normal, what he did. That's not what havin' a boyfriend is supposed to be. You should never have to know that shit, not for a minute!
Jesus
, Ror, I'm so damn sorry. You'll never know how fuckin' much," he murmurs.