Chapter 6

I toss and turn as I can't sleep. I've been up since nine thirty. As much as she left me alone for two days, I'm still worried about Brianna. I'm painfully living my life waiting for the day she lets out the full extent of her wrath on me. Her friends haven't stopped though, even if she herself has, but I know it won't last long. I know she'll be back. Her clique has been sending me insults by text and making my life a living hell at school through cyber, physical and verbal bullying and abuse.

Despite the fact that I said I don't do it often, I cut my stomach again. And I threw up a few more times in the last couple of days. I managed to create a somewhat good excuse by putting hot air from the hair dryer against my forehead and making myself look a little paler with makeup so mom thinks I'm sick. I know I can't go on with that excuse for too long or she'll know something's up, but at least it's a good plan for now. Not eating won't be such a worrisome thing for her anymore. People have smaller appetites when they're sick; or at least I do.

I continue trying to fall asleep, tossing and turning over and over, counting in my head, getting more blankets and my stuffed piggy that warms up in the microwave but nothing helps. After almost twenty minutes of attempting over and over again, my phone buzzes. I check the time on it, 11:32 and read what was just sent to me.

11:32 PM. Brianna    Prepare to be roasted porky.

I take the pig stuffy and violently throw it across the room, enraged. I don't care how much noise it makes. I knew she'd be back. I'm beyond terrified, thinking about all the possible things she might do to me tomorrow and to be honest, at this point anything is fair game. From pouring a smoothie on my head to literally killing me. My ability to sleep is diminished further. I can feel my anxiety coming up through my oesophagus to the point where I now actually feel kinda sick. Without hesitation I run to my bathroom and support myself over the bowl with my elbows. I wait for a few seconds and I just gag a bit. I don't let it stop there and the second I feel the back of my throat stroke the tip of my finger, my vision becomes blurry and all I see is everything rushing out of my mouth. But the problem is for some reason it's not stopping. The anxiety isn't going away. I wait patiently until it all ends but it takes a few minutes, and of course my mom comes running in. That's when I realize I forgot to lock the door. I don't like people being able to come in when I vomit, sick or not sick. I'm more comfortable being alone for that. That's why I usually lock myself in first.

She runs to me and holds my hair back, thinking I'm still sick as I throw up my angst and misery, somehow feeling thankful. I feel the warm palm of her hand stroking my back, in never ending circles. My gagging turns into a few small coughs as I start to breathe again. It feels like I haven't done so in so long. I don't even say a word to mom. I just rinse up and brush my teeth, staring down at the ground in the shame that I deserve to feel. She tries to make contact with me but I don't really react. I'm too preoccupied by all the dark feelings that roam around in my head and Brianna and what she's gonna do to me tomorrow.

Suddenly I hear quick and loud thumping on the tile floor behind me, as a body comes crashing into mine, arms swing around, gripping my waist tightly. In an instant I don't even realize my eyes are shut tight and when I open them up, I'm halfway down to the ground, my pale figure trembling like a tiny delicate leaf. All happens in only a fraction of a second, leading me to gasp in complete and utter shock. Breathing seems to be the only thing I can do at the moment, I can barely feel a single other part of my body. My muscles are relaxed to the point where they've become numb and I can't seem to move. Before I know it, the whole world begins to spin. Insecure, afraid, and trapped in the prison cell of my brain, my vision starts to blur and from what I can make out of my reflection, I'm crying. I don't sob or whimper or anything, at least I don't think I am. The tears just run down at light speed while my face remains in its jaw dropped expression of shock. But despite my temporary state of physical and mental numbness my body is scooped up off the ground. I can see myself hovering above the floor, watching it go from tile to hardwood, and then the fluffy white carpet I have under my bed. I can tell my tears haven't stop as I hear the soft whispers of my mom over my gasps for air and her hand comes toward my head to stroke it.

"shhh... Ava, settle down baby. Close your eyes. Deep breaths darling. Listen to mommy's voice." Her hand moves to my stomach, rubbing it in circles over my t-shirt. She continues to whisper slowly and softly in my ear, attempting to comfort me. With each word and gentle caress I feel her healing powers working as fatigue begins to take over. My eyes become heavier by the second and as a minute passes I find myself in a land of sweeter dreams.

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I quietly shut the door, finally positive that both my kids are in fact asleep. As calm and contained as I was in there, I've never been so terrified in my life. Seeing Ava practically in a trance. Her reactions were completely delayed, her face showed no other emotion aside from shock. She could barely even breath. I'm not sure if it's because she's sick or if it's something more. Either way I'm worried, and I know that she was not in a healthy state tonight.

I put my concerns aside as I walk back down to join Taylor, apologizing for the now almost ten minutes I spent upstairs, but he understands. It kind of starts off awkward as silence invades the entire apartment, and probably the entire building. But I break it through a whisper.

"So, you... said you needed to... tell me something," I ask.

"Yeah," he answers after a small pause, but he doesn't tell me just yet. I can tell he's afraid. I notice the bead of sweat above his forehead and his head looking down in the attempt to avoid my gaze. I have no idea what he has to tell me but I can tell it must be something shocking or terrifying enough to make him hesitate this much. Maybe that's what made him so upset that night he left me. Maybe he couldn't trust me anymore. Maybe I can't be trusted by anyone. As I see the fear growing in him, I try to ease him.

"Taylor, if you're afraid to tell me or you don't trust me enough it's okay. You don't have to say anything," I tell him, as he's been silent for a full five minutes.

"No, no it's not that I don't trust you. Actually you're one of the people I trust most."

"It didn't seem like that three years ago," I comment, not even believing that that just came out of me. How can I let my feelings take over like that? Yes, that night still breaks my heart and it hurts everyday, it puts me in tears every night, but it never affects me in front of him. I never let it. Why now? I let out a small gasp and look down, completely ashamed of myself. What kind of friend am I? But somehow he's not mad about it, which surprises me when he talks back.

"Don't look down like that. You're right. I was a dick that day. I should be looking down like that, not you." I slowly lift my eyes up to meet his across the table. He continues. "It's not that I don't trust you. It's that I'm a coward. I'm scared of feeling sad or ashamed or embarrassed. And that night I turned all that fear into anger."

I look at him, puzzled. I never thought our conversation would veer in this direction. And I can't believe he would think of himself in this way. Taylor was always so fearless and assertive from the day I met him, and he remained that way in our relationship. The fact that he identifies himself as cowardly takes me by surprise. "No you're not. And don't ever say that about yourself. I know you're brave enough to tell people what you're thinking. But even brave people don't feel ready sometimes. But I don't want you to be afraid to tell someone to the point where you keep it inside for the rest of your life. I'm still your friend Taylor, I still care."

"It's shameful," he says softly, looking down again. As shitty as he made me feel since that one night three years ago, and as much as we're not together, that look that he has right now still breaks my heart. But it's not time to think about myself right now, it's time to think about him and how he's feeling, and making him feel comfortable.

"Everyone does crazy shit or has secrets they're ashamed of. Being scared and feeling ashamed is normal, but there's no reason for it and it makes things worse. You don't have to tell me, but promise you'll find a way to release your emotions, for your own sake."

"It's Amy." My eyes widen in shock as my concern grows.

"What about Amy," I ask.

"Well, she kinda... took advantage of me." Now I'm even more shocked. What does he mean by that?

"What do you mean 'she took advantage of you?'" I ask.

"Well, it's kinda weird. And you might think it's nothing but, it kinda bothers me. I went home after a couple of drinks last night and... I went to bed... fully clothed. And... I had a dream. After that all I remember was I woke up the next day and all my clothes were gone and she was next to me... and... she wasn't clothed either. She brought up that we fooled around that night but... I don't remember it ever happening. I know I wasn't awake. I know this is really awkward and it's probably nothing but, I trust you with this kinda stuff and I don't really know what to do with this information."

Damn straight it's awkward. But I leave that part aside because he's trusting me with this. The whole story really freaks me out because that would technically mean that she... I don't even wanna say it. I find that disgusting, and this is my honest and unbiased opinion.

"Taylor that's not nothing. This is something that bothers you, and to be honest if I was in that situation it would bother me too. She took advantage of you in a sense, which wasn't fair to you. This isn't your fault in any way, so don't feel ashamed about it okay?" I watch him nod and then he asks me what to do with all this. I'm not gonna tell him to file a fucking rape charge against her but he shouldn't sit back and let it go.

"Well... does she know that you don't remember?"

"No. I kinda lied to her and acted like I remember. I just, I didn't want to make her upset." He puts his head down at the end and he looks so devastated. I get up and walk around to table to sit next to him.

"It's okay. I understand you didn't want to make her feel bad. But Taylor, if it bothers you, take a deep breath, go home to her and tell her everything. You deserve to stand up for yourself, and she needs to know the truth. And if you're scared she'll be upset about you lying to her, just explain why you did. You guys can work it out."

He agrees to follow my advice and thanks me. As we stand up, he wraps his arms around me in a warm embrace, but it's friendly, and yet somehow it feels just like when we were together. I know I love him and I'm kind of sounding hypocritical by telling him how to make things right between him and his girlfriend, but that's the problem isn't it. I love him. And as torturing as it is and as painful and difficult as it may seem, the biggest part of loving him, is learning how to let him go.*********************************************************************************************************I know this is super unrealistic but I wanted Taylor to keep trusting Gaga so that even if he's with Amy he can go and tell Gaga everything The last sentence kinda sounds like the way I end my chapter fics. But don't worry it's not the end yet.iRadiateMoonGlow  I know I only put her for like half the chapter, but don't worry Ava's coming back again. I'm promising a good chunk of Ava's POV at some point in this story.