19

Rachel

JUST AS I was raising my shirt over my head, there was a knock on the door and I barely had time to push the material back down before it opened to reveal Candice.

“Hey,” she said softly.

I hated that tone. Everyone in my life, including Candice and her parents, had used that tone on me the entire year after my parents died. It’d been months since the incident with Blake, and they were still using this tone with me. Like I was going to break if they spoke to me like a normal human being. He was her cousin. I almost wanted to give her the tone right back and ask how she liked it.

“Hey.”

“What are you up to?” she asked quietly as she walked into my room and lay down on my bed.

“I was just about to take a shower.”

“What are you doing after?”

And this was now the norm as well. What are you doing, what are you eating, why are you going to sleep, why don’t you want to come out with us . . . next she was going to ask why I was still wearing clothes.

“I’m probably going to go to sleep.”

“Okay, that’s fine.”

Fine? It was almost midnight. “What are you doing, Candi?” Yeah . . . I flipped that shit around onto you. How does it feel?

“Just checking on you.”

“Ah.” This was awkward. “You know, it’s been three months. I’m okay.”

She sat up from her sprawled-out position on my bed. “I know you are, I just—I wish you . . .”

“Wish I would what?” What more could I do? I’d kept my job. I’d gone to a therapist like Janet had begged me to. I wasn’t sitting in the corner rocking back and forth talking about the boogeyman that was coming to get me. I really didn’t understand what else they could expect of me.

“Rachel, I’ve been talking to Mason—”

“Oh, no. No, no, no. Candice, we talked about this!”

“He’s miserable, Rach! Mason’s worried about him. His parents are worried about him. The chief made him take some time off because he’s just not the same.”

My chest tightened and I sucked in air quickly through my teeth. Turning so my back was facing her, I blinked rapidly until my vision was no longer blurry. “He lied to me about everything. I can’t—why am I even talking about him right now?” I huffed a pathetic attempt at a laugh. “No more.” Besides, he hasn’t even tried to contact me.

“Rachel, you told him not to talk to you!”

Shit, did I say that out loud?

“I know.” I sighed heavily. “I know I did. And I don’t want him to, but he—he didn’t even try to fight for us after. He left and that was it. My word, I’m being such a girl.” Leaning against the wall so I was facing Candice again, I crossed my arms under my chest and worried my bottom lip. “I wasn’t playing games with him, and I’m still not. I wasn’t testing him to see what he would do. When I told him I wanted him to go and not come back, I meant it. But the fact that he did it is killing me now.”

“You still love him, right?”

A pained laugh escaped me. “Of course I do. I always will.”

“Then call him, I have his real number! You’re both miserable, this is stupid.” She grabbed my phone off my nightstand and started walking toward me.

“I can’t, it’s not that simple.”

“Yeah, actually, it is!”

I pushed the hand that was holding my phone away. “Candice, no. What he did is unforgivable. I’m still in love with him, but that doesn’t change what he did and what he could do to me again. I almost married him without knowing his real last name. How would he have even done that? Just continued to act like his last name was Hendricks forever?” I snorted. Snorting was good. It helped me not break down into a crying mess in front of her right now. “I’m done talking about this, and I’m done talking about him.”

Candice looked like she wanted to argue, but she just nodded her head, dropped my phone on the bed, and gave me a hug before leaving the room. I waited until I heard the TV turn on before going to remove my clothes. I’d never had an issue with changing around Candice; we grew up with each other, it was normal for us. But if Candice was already acting weird anyway, seeing the scars her cousin had put on me was sure to make her start sobbing and apologizing to me over and over again. I didn’t want that. I had been upset when she didn’t believe me about Blake raping me, but I knew she had blinders on and thought Blake was perfect. None of what happened had been her fault; I didn’t blame her and hated when she blamed herself.

Taking a deep breath, I looked up at the mirror, and my chin trembled when I saw myself. It never got easier. In fact, I’m pretty sure it got harder. At least when the cuts had been fresh, I could make myself believe they would go away. But now that they’d all turned into scars, there was no way to keep telling myself that. But at least the haunting memories behind them were growing smaller each time.

For the first two months of therapy, I’d gone twice a week, and for the last month it’d only been once a week. I’d had my last session with Dr. Markowitz a few days ago, and I owed a lot to that woman. I’d never wanted to go to therapy after my parents’ death, and I wouldn’t have gone after what happened with Blake. But I was so glad Candice’s mom had all but forced me into a car and driven me there before they went back to California. Dr. Markowitz had helped me accept what had happened and learn to move on from it. I knew I couldn’t be afraid of something like this happening again, and most importantly, I knew I couldn’t blame myself for what had happened to Kash and Mason, Jenn, or the other three girls who were victims in the Carnation Murders.