Warning: This post depicts sexual assault.
She was trying to sit up but she couldn’t. Something heavy was on her. Somebody was on her. There was a hand over her mouth and it was hard to breathe. There was a hand on her thigh, moving upwards. He was breathing into her neck. Her skin was crawling in revulsion. In the background she saw shelves of books and her mind drifted to that scene in Beauty and the Beast. A hand tugging at her bra brought her back to reality. She tried to push him off but her limbs were dead weight.
Then he was suddenly up and pacing in front of her. He was talking on the phone in an angry, hushed voice.
“This isn’t gonna work.” — “The video isn’t gonna look like that if she’s passed out!” — “This is fucked up, I’m outta here.”
Isis woke up from a dream, covered in sweat and heart racing. She touched her face and her cheeks were wet. She had this dream before. Only, it wasn’t a dream, it was a memory, and one she wished would go away.
Isis sat across from Roman at his dining table, where they’d sat many times before, working on homework together. Her geometry book was open and a pencil was spinning between her fingers.
“You’re doing that thing again.” Roman said.
She looked up. “What thing?”
“The face.”
“What face?”
“The face that says, I’m not understanding this problem but I refuse to ask for help.” Roman teased.
A reluctant smile tugged at her lips.
“There it is,” he said, pointing triumphantly.
Roman grinned and slid his notebook toward her. “Look. You just forgot a step.”
For the next hour, they worked through assignments together, trading answers and making fun of each other’s handwriting. Isis laughed more than she expected. The sound surprised her every time it came out. By the time they finished, the sky outside had turned orange.
Roman stretched dramatically. “I think we’ve earned a break.”
She smiled and followed him into the living room.
They settled onto the couch and Roman turned on the TV. When he shifted closer and casually draped an arm around her shoulders, Isis jerked with a sharp inhale. She scooted away before she even realized she was doing it.
The energy in the room went immediately still, and for a few moments neither of them spoke. She saw the hurt that flashed across his face, then watched as it was replaced by something worse. Concern.
“Sorry.” Isis said quietly.
“You don’t have to apologize.” Roman said.
She looked down at her hands and didn’t speak. This had been happening since her assault. Flinching from Roman, hurting his feelings, then having a talk about it. No matter how many times she told him she was fine, he still tried to help her.
His voice interrupted her thoughts. “Isis.”
She hated the way he said her name now. So careful. Like she was made of glass.
She sighed. “What?”
“You don’t have to keep doing this.”
“Doing what?”
“Pretending.”
The knot in her stomach tightened and she crossed her arms. “I’m not pretending, I’m fine.”
The words hung between them. I’m fine. The same words she’d been saying for weeks.
He sighed quietly and rubbed a hand over his face as he said “I know you’re hurting… And I’m hurting too. This kills me.”
Isis blinked. “What?”
“This.” He gestured vaguely between them. “Watching you act like everything’s okay when it’s obviously not. I don’t know what to do.” He admitted.
Something in his voice made her chest ache. Not frustration. Not anger. Just sadness.
He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “Have you thought about talking to someone? A therapist, I mean?”
She replied “I told my parents no and I’m telling you no. I just need a little more time and space.”
“I get that. But why won’t you let anybody help you along the way? Why won’t you talk to anybody?” He pleaded.
She stared at the carpet and said “Because then it would be real, Roman! Because if I say it out loud, I can’t keep pretending I’m the same person I used to be!” Her voice was raised by the time she finished talking. “Yes Roman. I am pretending, okay?!”
Roman didn’t reply but his expression broke her heart a little.
Those words had come out harsher than she wanted, so she whispered, “I just want things to go back to normal.”
He whispered back, “So do I.”
For a second, she thought he might reach for her hand. Instead, he sat beside her, leaving space between them. Giving her exactly what she asked for. The television continued playing in the background but neither of them were watching it.
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