I used to wonder what true freedom felt like. Never had it occurred to me that it wouldn't be like soaring through the air or jumping into a body of water butt naked (I had a wild imagination). No, the feeling of freedom comes from releasing what you're holding onto. The good things, like telling someone how you feel, the bad things, like grudges and hatred, and the ugly, like the lies you've had to tell to protect yourself. Those things are the jail cell. Letting go is the freedom.

***

I still have a knot in my stomach when I get to the diner. I try to push it behind me and not think about it, but the feeling of Elijah's rough hands on my skin seems to find its way back to me. My mind is still forcing the memories to act like a dream, as if they didn't exist.

I slowly get out of the car once I'm parked outside the diner. The streets are lit up with streetlamps as some people are walking around. Most restaurants and stores are beginning to close as some stragglers make their way in and out quickly.

I push the diner door open and instantly smell the pancakes cooking in the kitchen. Instead of going to look for Clay, I take a seat at the bar on a twisty seat. I quickly pull out my phone and look at what I must look like right now. My makeup is only slightly smeared, my mascara coloring under my eyes a light shade of black. Barely noticeable... I hope.

Clay peeks out from in the kitchen. "Hey." He gives a little wave. I wave back, unsure of what to say. I'm nervous and also tired. I just want to take a shower and scrub my skin.

After a few minutes, Clay comes out with a stack of about four pancakes. He promises to make more if we want more. Part of me looks at the food and finds it revolting, but the other part of me remembers how hungry I was just a little while ago.

I take a plate from Clay and pull some pancakes onto it, then smear some butter on and drown it in syrup. Clay sets a fork by my plate and I slowly start to cut into the delicious-smelling pancake as he prepares his. The quiet in the room is thankfully lessened by the radio quietly playing from somewhere in the kitchen.

Clay and I make small glances at each as if we're both waiting for the other to start talking first. My stubborn mind has decided that I won't be the first one to talk.

"Are you sure you're okay?" Clay asks as he takes a bite of his pancake.

I swallow the bite I had been chewing slowly – along with the lump in my throat. I nod my head slowly and look away from him, focusing on my pancakes.

"I really hope I didn't upset you-"

Something in me snaps. "You're not the only person I have to worry over, Clay."

A moment of tense silence surrounds us. I set my fork on the plate in front of me and put my hands on my head. That when the sobs come. They wrack my body like they've wanted to come out forever. Instead of backing away and running for the hills, telling me stop crying and being a brat, I feel warm arms wrap around me and pull me close.

I only flinch for a second before I remind myself who this is. Clay is comforting me, my best friend Clay. I let myself fall into him and try to slow the cries that want to keep coming out.

"What happened after I left?" Clay whispers quietly. I realize that these sobs are not just from Elijah, but also from Jonah. Two completely different situations and people, one completely broken heart.

"I..." I take a deep breath. Something compels me to just say it – finally tell someone what has happened to me. Stop lying to everyone and to yourself, Jordan. Let someone else know. "Elijah."

At that, I feel his arms loosen up. He slowly tilts my head up so I can look at him. "Did he hurt you?"

The sobs return. I should have never gone. I should have never let that happen. Then I wouldn't be here sobbing into the chest of the guy I love. Love? It's a strong word. But what else could it be if not that?

"Come on," Clay says as he puts his arm around me, helping me towards the stairs. I don't fight him. If I go home, my parents might find me like this. What will I tell them? If I go to my dorm, Lanie will be there. What will I tell her? One person knowing is enough for me.

"I can leave," I somehow manage to say between breaths. Although I don't want to get back in my car and drive, I don't want him to take care of me because he feels like he has to.

"No, you're not driving home like this."

I stop once we get to the top of the stairs outside of his apartment. "You don't need to feel obligated to take care of me. I can take care of myself. I always take care of myself." My arms instinctively go around me as if to comfort myself.

"Jordan, just come inside please. I want you to be here." He places his hand gently on my forearm. "Please."

If it weren't for my body telling me to lay down and never to get up again, I would have gone home. Despite wanting to be here with him more than anything, I also know I couldn't go home. I didn't want to.

"Okay," I say softly that even I barely hear it. I let Clay lead me into his apartment and over to the couch.

"Do you want different clothes?" Clay asks quietly. I look around at the dark room. It's bland, with little to no decorations. Toys are scattered here and there, but it doesn't make the room messy. The wooden walls make it feel comfortable in here, and the big windows in the kitchen bring in some moonlight.

I shake my head in Clay's direction. "No thanks, I'm okay."

He heads into the kitchen and I hear the sink turn on. A few minutes later he is handing me a cup of iced water. "Here you go."

My mouth is sticky and dry from crying, so I don't hesitate to drink some water. Clay flips on a dim lamp in the corner of the room.

"You don't have to tell me anything... but I just want you to know that I will listen. And I'm not afraid to do something about it." His eyes flicker with anger as he speaks.

Despite every muscle in my body flooding with anxiety, my heartbeat racing, and my skin still crawling, I tell Clay what happened. Then, as if this story wasn't enough, I tell him the other story. The one that happened years ago. The one that made me paranoid and cautious and scared.

San Francisco was great. I learned a lot there. But the memories were not my friend. I tell Clay about the man that pushed me against the brick building, how I was only 14, how he pushed himself against me and how I fought my way out of his grip.

It tastes like lemon juice on my tongue, every word of it. But as I tell Clay this, he doesn't look away. He watches me intently, eyebrows knitted together as if he just couldn't wrap his mind around it.

"I don't know what to say," he murmurs after I'm done.

I pull the blanket clay had given me moments ago tighter around me. "I'm so tired, Clay. I can't keep doing this." I'm not exactly sure what this is.

He leans closer but is careful not to touch me. "If there's one thing I've learned from trying to save yourself is that it's impossible. It just doesn't work. But that doesn't mean you're weak. It just means you need help. And that's okay too."

I press my lips together in a thin line. Where do all of these philosophical people come from in my life? Layla, Dad, Lanie, now Clay? I want their thoughts, their ways of thinking. I need that in my life.

"I think I've deserved everything that's happened to me. I was a brat when I was little. I was mean and had a bad attitude about everything. I still do. I wanted to do stupid things that would get me attention from anyone. I pushed Mom on Jonah and now he hates me."

"He doesn't hate you. If anything, he's probably trying to figure out what he's feeling and sometimes you have to take yourself out of that equation for him to do that. As for everything else... you've never been more wrong." I look up at Clay through my clumpy eyelashes, waiting for him to continue. "You didn't ask for any of it. Evil exists in this world... but it never wins."

"How does it not? It won when it took my mom away from me. It won when those people attacked Jonah's camp. It won when two guys decided that I looked like their type. It seems to win a lot." My heart is pounding as I speak.

Clay looks away thoughtfully for only a moment. It doesn't take him long to find an answer to my many questions.

"It didn't win, though. Your mom is here now, and you have the power to make the most of it. When those people attacked Jonah's camp, God still sent him home to you. And when those idiots decided to hurt you, you came back stronger. You're one of the strongest, smartest, and head-strong people I know. Evil cannot defeat people like you with the right armor."

"What do you mean?"

Clay situates himself on the couch as if he's about to begin a long conversation. "I figured out that even though I've made a million and one mistakes, been a horrible person most of my life, and just didn't care, there was someone who still saw the good in me. Still thought that I was worth His own life. It changed me, and I don't care how other people may think that sounds."

I know what he's talking about. I also hear the confidence and love and strength that flows from his mouth when he says it.

"Jesus can't love someone like me. I'm selfish and I just... I can't hold up to those expectations."

"That's the thing, Jordan. You don't have to meet expectations to be loved by Jesus. He loves your imperfections and your mistakes. You don't have to earn it."

"How do you know all of this?"

Clay reaches, slowly, for my hand. I don't pull away as I watch him carefully take my hand and lace our fingers together. "I went to church one day. The rest came with time and effort."

How could this boy, the one who would break rules and get kicked out of school for coming in drunk, this boy who fought everyone and hated everything, turn out like this? Jesus is good. He must be really good, because no magician or wizard or genie could ever change this boy the way He has.

I squeeze Clay's hand tighter. "Will you take me with you one day?"

He smiles softly and leans his head against the pillow. "I'd love to."

We both look away slowly, my eyes moving to our intwined hands. I don't say anything as the comfortable silence begins to settle in. I can feel myself growing more and more tired. Crying really drains the life out of you.

"I didn't mean what I said at the wedding, Jordan." His words catch me off guard. I lean my head against the back of the couch and look at him, waiting patiently. "I am glad that we can be friends. I can tell you anything."

I'm about to interrupt and tell him to cut to the chase. I know we're friends, I don't need that reminder and reassurance. I slowly loosen my grip on his hand.

"But," he begins as he pulls my hand closer. "I've never met anyone as brave, thoughtful, and loving. You as so full of love even though you don't realize it. I don't know if I can just be friends with you. I wanted to say something else at the wedding, but... I chickened out."

I smile at that. "You chickened out at something?"

He rolls his eyes, a boyish grin making its way to his lips. "When it comes to telling a pretty girl you like her it doesn't exactly roll right off the tongue."

My heart skips a beat. Is this really happening right now? I'm not sure what to say. I slip my hand out of Clay's and pull my hair back out of my face. It's making me hot with all the nerves already boiling. Clay's face drops and I see the same disappointment I had felt before.

"If you don't feel the same way, that's totally-" Before he has a chance to say anything else, I lean forward and gently press my lips to his. His hands make their way to my face and he holds me there, kissing me back.

I lean away slowly, my hands lingering on his knees. "How could I not?"

Two sweet and giddy smiles, two hearts beating. I spent my whole childhood trying to get people to like me when really, all I had to do was be myself. And the people that matter... they found me.

____________________________

Song: I Can't Help Falling in Love Without You - Zara Larsson

Okay, how did you feel about this chapter? I really want to know! To me it feels like it was a long time coming lol

I'm also really sorry for such a long wait :( I truly plan to continue this story and finish it soon!

Let me know what you think! Thanks for reading :)