“Cooper, I was drugged.” I cry out, trying to make him see that this wasn’t on him, give him an out. “That is no way you’re fault.”

“I’m so f**king sorry.” He mumbles, his eyes are on the floor and his words hit me, like a line drive straight to my heart.

The dam breaks and the tears come freely as the night replays as I close my eyes. I was almost raped tonight. What would have happened if Cooper hadn’t rescued me when he did?

I shiver, I’d be ruined, hell, I feel like I am anyway with the weight of the night crashing down on me.

Oh God, I can’t breathe. I start to panic and feel like I’ll never be the same, never recover.

Will that ass**le tell his friends? What if someone saw what happened and it spreads around campus? No, no, no.

“Breathe, Jay.” Cooper says with a gentle voice beside me, knowing where my mind was.

I close my eyes and start to count to ten. My heartbeat slows a bit and the tears ease up. I feel that ass**le on my skin and it makes it crawl. I scratch at my arms, then my stomach and legs.

“I need a f**king shower.” I say aloud. I want the memory washed away, gone forever.

I attempt to try and get up. My legs aren’t strong enough yet to hold me up as I fall back on the bed. Cooper is there in an instant but I put a hand up to stop him, scared to have him that close.

“Don’t touch me.” I scream and then slap my hand over my mouth, not meaning to say that aloud to him. I know he means well but I just can’t handle it. I’m not sure I can handle anything.

The thought of having anyone touching me right now makes me want to rip them apart.

Cooper backs up and holds his hands up in surrender.

I try to get up again and this time I’m able to pull myself from the bed. I stand there for a second to get my balance before taking the few steps to Cooper’s bathroom. I shut the door and I’m just about to lock it when Cooper calls my name.

“Jay.”

I open the door slightly and Cooper holds out some clothes. Grabbing them, I quickly shut the door and lock it. I walk over to Mason’s connecting bathroom door and lock that as well. I place the clean clothes on the bathroom sink and then turn the water on in the shower as hot as it will go.

I remove my shirt, bra and then I pull down my pants. My panties are missing; they were left back in that ass**le’s room. I kick my jeans away and step into the shower. The scolding hot water runs down over my body. I pick up some body wash and pour some into my hands and start to clean my body. I spot a scrub brush on the ledge of the tub. I pour some body wash on that and bring it to my left arm and scrub as hard as I can. I feel like I can’t get clean enough. When my arm is bright red I proceed to the other arm and then the rest of my body. Finally, once my skin starts to burn, I drop the brush and lean against the wall and slide down until I’m sitting. I bring my knees up and hug them and let the tears fall again. I sit in the shower until the water turns cold and I’m shaking yet again. I reach over to turn the water off then grab a towel off the hook. I dry myself and dress in an old number five baseball t-shirt of Cooper’s and a pair of his boxer shorts. I reach up and wipe the mirror with the towel so I can see my reflection.

“You see Mom,” I say through the tears, “the girl that looked back at me that night will never be the same.”

My mom’s there for me, wrapping her arms around me and giving me want I need, a shoulder to cry on. I lay my head down in my mom’s lap and just let all the pain, hurt, heartbreak, anger and sadness out. Mom runs her hands through my hair as we both cry for what feels like hours.

When I woke up this morning, I didn’t think I would be telling her this, but really it is exactly what I needed, someone else to hear me, to feel what I felt and be here for me for no other reason than to just be.

There’s something about reliving the past, but there’s also something about telling the past. I want to exhale the past and inhale the future and I know this was a start to that.

16

Spring training starts in a month and I’m not ready. I don’t give a f**k and this is the first time in all my life that I’m not excited to get back to baseball with the boys. I’m just not. My life feels like it’s on hold even though things around me are moving at record speed.

Eli and I settled on the building for our nightclub in Seaside four days ago. Fierce is due to open in a month which gives me enough time to help Eli with the construction and design work and also hire some employees.

We just signed off with the contractor who’s going to be painting the club at the end of next week. Thankfully the offices for Eli and I are already done so we are able to at least conduct interviews and work on setting up our accounts with different vendors for supplies.

This morning I posted a few ads up on Hcareers.com, Monster and CareerBuilder for the open job positions we have. Within minutes applications were already starting to pile in. I went through a few and sent the good ones over to Eli for his opinion.

At least we got that ball rolling.

That part of my life is rounding the bases. The other part is still stuck in the batter’s box.

I do the only thing I can think to do, which is work out to release my frustration.

I’m running along on the treadmill at the gym when Mason steps onto the one beside me. “Yo.”

I lift my chin in acknowledgment and keep pounding my feet against the belt and turn up the speed. Reaching for my iPhone, I make sure Mason notices that I’m not interested in talking, and turn on my music. I’ve barely spoken to my brother, or any of my family for that matter, since my falling out with Jaylinn. I don’t have anything to say. Why talk?

I get the daily phone calls from everyone wondering what I’ve been up to and how I’m doing. They’re all walking on eggshells around me and it’s driving me f**king nuts. Yes, it hurts like a bitch that Jaylinn and I are no longer speaking but this is what’s best for her. She’s done with me and is moving on, and it’s what I’m trying to do as well. At least that’s what I keep telling myself because if I’m honest I’m a f**king mess deep down inside. I’m a f**king liar if I think I’m even remotely okay with her moving on. I’m not. I’m pissed.

I wonder everyday what she’s up to, how she’s dealing with things. Nights are the worst for me. I got so used to falling asleep with her in my arms and now that she’s not there I can’t seem to sleep. Part of me wishes I had some kind of chemical dependency to help me sleep. I see the appeal of drugs now. They do offer some relief, don’t they? Hopefully with practice starting up I’ll be so exhausted that sleeping won’t be an issue anymore.