I used to complain a lot. I complained about the food Laura would make, what my friends were doing, the assignment my teachers gave me, the fact that I had terrible hair because I dyed it all the time. I connected deeply to the pain my mom planted in my heart when she left and I let that lead me through my preteen and teenage years. I breathed that pain like it was the only oxygen I had. Now I see how foolish that was. I see that it is impossible to enjoy life if you're holding on too tightly to the things that hurt you. It anchors you down, and I'm tired of sinking.

***
WARNING: This chapter contains situations that may cause someone to be uncomfortable. Content warning: sexual harassment, rape, abuse

I'm not sure how I got here.

For a while, I sat in my car and contemplated what my next move should have been. Do I go to an empty dorm room and wallow in my self pity? Do I go home where I'll have to see my drunk, angry brother? Or do I answer the millions of texts a tipsy Wren has sent to remind me of the party she told me about weeks ago?

Still, I'm unsure why I'm here. I sit in front of her house and watch the partygoers come and go, stumbling or helping a stumbler make it in or out. I can hear the music from my car as it pounds from somewhere inside the house.

Is this the right decision? I've always dealt with my pain the same way – inflict more pain. Although I've never physically harmed myself, I have emotionally destroyed any part of me that wanted to feel happiness.

The past few weeks have changed that, though. With reconnecting with Mom, getting closer to my dad, seeing my brother come back alive, meeting Lanie, and of course, becoming friends with Clay, I felt like happiness was in sight for me.

But all of that seemed to crash and burn in a matter of days.

With a final sigh, I climb out of my car and make way up to the house. One girl drunkenly comments on my outfit and I realize how dressed up I must look for a college party. I let the thought slip away as I enter the house, looking for Wren.

It doesn't take long for her to track me down after I had texted her that I was coming. She even has a drink in her hand, ready for me to down it right along with her. I take it from her with a thanks and take a few sips, the sweet taste of tequila spreading over my taste buds. It suddenly doesn't make me feel any better about anything.

"Why are you so dressed up?" Wren asks, judgement yet admiration in her lazy eyes.

"I was at a wedding."

"Well," she starts, "welcome to the after party." She lifts her drink in the air and I tap mine against hers. While she takes a few gulps of her drink, I only take another sip. I have the sudden urge to throw the drink out, but I know Wren would never shut up about it if I did.

Even this doesn't make me feel better anymore. I just want to fix things... I need to fix things.

For once, avoiding these problems isn't going to help me. I feel helpless. Alcohol would always make me forget even if only for a little while. But I don't want to forget anymore. I want to live, and I want to be present when I do so.

Maybe the happiness I wanted so badly was right in front of me, I just had to fight for it. Nothing is promised to us in this life as I've learned the hard way, but that's why people become strong, right? They fight for what they want. Or maybe they let a greater good fight for it. I wish I knew more.

I find a counter to set my drink on, fully aware that once I leave it there without supervision, I won't be able to pick it back up.

"Wren," I half-shout, "I need to use the bathroom." The plan has already formed in my head: use the bathroom, then sneak out without Wren noticing.

"I can show you," a deep voice comes from behind me. Wren smiles and takes another swig of her drink as she looks up at her boyfriend, Elijah. The hairs on the back of my neck stand up.

I want to object, but Wren is already sauntering away. "I'll catch up with you soon, JoJo!" I don't even notice the name she called me due to the hand that has suddenly pressed into my lower back, pushing me towards a dimly lit hallway.

We stop in front of the last door on the left and Elijah uses his fist to pond on the door. "Anybody in there?" When no one answers, he opens the door for me and flips on the light. I pause, waiting for him to walk away, but he still lingers by the door.

"I think I can take it from here," I tell him as I grab the door to shut it.

Elijah steps inside, blocking the door with his large boot-clad foot. "Do you think you're sneaky?" There's a satisfied smirk on his face, but his tone gives me a different feeling – fear. As if he thinks I won't notice his subtle movements, he begins to make his way into the bathroom inch by inch, closing the space between us.

"What are you talking about?" I suddenly feel like I'm two feet tall, the world crashing down around me. He's close to me now, his smile all too close to my face. I back up from him as much as possible before my back hits the counter, my hands feel behind myself for the cold ceramic of the sink.

I remember the evening on the street in San Francisco and the way that man's hands touched me.

Elijah's hand touches my thigh just above my knee and trails upwards slowly. I want to cry and scream, yell for help, but I'm frozen.

His face is inches away from mine. "You think I don't notice the way you look at me? And then you come here looking like that? I couldn't resist."

I put my hand on his chest and push him back. His eyes grow dark and lurches for me, his hands wrapping around me as his lips collide with mine. I try to push him off, but his grip gets tighter and he pushes his lips tighter against my own. I feel his hand start to creep further and further up my thigh.

My whole body is revolting, and I can feel hot tears behind my eyes. Is this happening right now? Is this actually happening?

"Get off of her!" I hear my saving grace shout. Elijah is suddenly yanked away from me, his hands leaving what feels like burn marks where they had been. I see Wren behind him now, her face full of rage. She looks from me to Elijah, finally focusing back on me as her eyes soften. "You should go, Jordan."

"Wren, I-"

She puts a hand up as if to silence me. It works. "I know." There is something in her voice and the way she won't look at me in the eyes that tells me something is wrong. Very wrong.

"Are you sure?" Despite the urge to get out of this place as quickly as possible, I can see the pain in her drunken body language. Wren and I haven't been that close, but if she needed me, I'd stay.

Finally, she looks up at me. While there is pain there, there is also strength. "You don't need to be here. Enough has happened tonight."

Reminded of the dirty feeling on my skin, I nod my head and leave the house.

On the verge of my own mental breakdown, I hurry to my car, stumbling as I fumble for my keys. Once I'm in, I sit and stare at the house with kids pouring in and out. Then the tears come, hot against my eyes. I bite my lip to keep them from falling down my cheeks.

Something within me tells me to put the keys into the ignition and turn, then to pull the gear shift into drive. That same something helps me gently push the gas to drive away. Before I can even pull out of the driveway, my phone rings from my passenger side seat. I had almost forgotten about it.

My body is out of my control at this point. Something helps me press the break so I can reach over and grab my phone. Clay's name is displayed across the screen. Do I answer it? Do I want to talk to him right now? What if something bad happened? Something bad did happen. I press the green answer button.

I hate how shaky and tired my voice comes out. "Hello?"

"Hey..." Clay pauses for a moment as if hesitating. "Are you okay?"

I wait a beat as I swallow the lump in my throat. "I'm fine... why are you calling me?" I try to lighten my voice as if to not sound so mean, but I don't think it works.

"Are you crying?" He asks, his voice filling with concern.

I feel my face heat up. "I'm not crying." As if on cue, my eyes well up again with tears. I squeeze them shut and lean my head back against my seat.

"You're too tough to cry," he says gently in a joking manner. I appreciate the attempt at making me feel better and feel a small smile on my face, momentarily forgetting about what just happened.

"I am," I agree. "For real, what did you call for?" This time I'm sure I sound much nicer although a part of me doesn't care.

Clay sighs on the other end. I begin driving down the road, my phone on speaker as it rests on my lap.

"I don't like how we left things earlier this evening." His words send a jolt through me as my ears perk up. "I know it's late, but I couldn't stop thinking about it. I feel terrible."

"You shouldn't. You needed to call Cora, I completely understand that." Part of me knows that he isn't just talking about needing to leave to talk to Cora.

"I don't mean that part..." He trails off, spacing his words out as if thinking carefully before saying each word. "Are you home?"

"No, actually," I say quietly. "I just left." I don't say where on purpose.

"Oh... well, maybe we can meet somewhere. The diner? I can make you something to eat if you're hungry."

The thought of fresh food suddenly sounds intriguing. "That would be nice. Pancakes?" I don't have to force the hopefulness in my voice when thinking about fluffy pancakes.

Clay laughs softly. "Of course. Pancakes it is."

_________________________________

Song: Hold Onto Me - Lauren Daigle

Hey guys, long time no see! I'm so sorry about that. It has been a long few months. But I'm back! I just wrote two chapters in two days... that's big for me. I haven't felt like myself without writing.

On another note, I'm about to graduate college! Wish me luck that all my scores and things come back so I can be sure to graduate in May :)

Love you guys. Mean it. Message me anytime with questions or to talk <3