Adrian Harvey

Despite having my phone tucked securely in my back pocket, the name still flashed before my eyes like a blinking neon sign. I hadn't been able to focus all day- my brain was in overdrive trying to put a face to the name. I couldn't. He most definitely hadn't been someone that ran around with our crowd.

Dodging a couple incoming senior football players, I pressed my back against the wall and waited until they were a safe enough distance away to continue my trek to the pool. I had managed to talk myself out of immediately searching the name on socials, but I wasn't sure how long I'd be strong enough to keep that up-nor was I sure if I could do it alone.

"Addy, hey!" Jeremiah, as obnoxiously loud as always, was clear on the other side of the pool; my brother and the rest of the team were on the side closest to me. Catching sight of my slightly hunched figure by the door, Jonathan tore his blue swim cap from his head and climbed up the steps and out of the water.

"What's up?" Johnny asked as he approached, then, being close enough to take in my tear-stained cheeks and red rimmed eyes, he leaned closer and whispered, "Why are you crying?"

I couldn't verbalize my emotions-and surely not to Jonathan. The guilt I felt over not being able to be as open with my brothers as I was with Jeremiah still tended to gnaw at me, but most days I was so lost in the dark abyss of my own mind I didn't think about it. Intrusive thoughts had been shadowing me all day. I wanted to turn my brain off, but given that it wasn't possible, Jeremiah was the next best thing.

He had spent Saturday and Sunday night in my room, curled up like a dog at the end of my bed, always up into the latest hours to be sure I fell asleep before he even considered catching some himself.

"Addy." Jere said my name with a slight warning in his tone. "What's wrong?"

Jonathan, who'd been staring at me just as expectantly before his best friend had joined us, threw a quick, curious look at Jere over his shoulder before retraining his eyes on me. "Are you okay?"

It took longer than needed to retrieve my phone from my back pocket. My fingers were trembling, and I feared that the second I was able to put Adrian's face to his name that I may lose control over my body and actions altogether.

"I'll go tell coach we got to dip." My brother mumbled, clearly catching on that I wasn't willing to open up to him any more than I already had. Once he'd disappeared to the other side of the room, Jere pried my phone from my grip and opened my SMS app.

"I thought I told you to leave this alone, Addison."

I averted my eyes to the tips of my sneakers. "I had already asked her who it was before I talked to you."

"Well, it doesn't matter." Jere said, but my eyes found his again and his shoulders slumped forward. "Look, it isn't going to do anything but hurt you, Addy."

"I need to know, Jere." I straightened and tore my phone from his grip. "I didn't come here to ask for your permission. I came to. . . I need. . ."

To my relief he caught the gist of what I was getting at and started toward the door leading back out into the hallway. I trailed along after, falling back against the wall beside a row of lockers once I'd stepped outside. I opened up my Facebook app-not surprised to find hundreds of notifications after months of not being active, but a little shook when Erin's beaming face was what greeted me the moment the app stopped buffering. I quickly scrolled down to get her face out of view and started to type the name into the search bar.

Within seconds three different profiles under the same name with slight alterations popped up-all were mutuals with Erin. My palms started to sweat as my thumb graced the first profile, and deciding it was better to just pull the trigger rather than rile my anxiety up through the roof, I pressed down. It took a few moments before a familiar face flickered in the small, round circle.

He wasn't someone that ran with our group-but he'd been at a few of the parties Erin had dragged me along as a plus one too. He'd always walked the halls at our high school as if he were far above the rest of us peasants at his beck and call. He, like my brother, had the ability to send the other students scurrying into corners with just a dark, condescending look in their direction. I'd never cared enough to learn his name but had always been aware of his presence-everyone was.

The photo didn't stir as much emotion as I had thought it would. I stared for a while, breathing in the mess of blonde hair, the piercing blue eyes, the lady-killer smile. He was poster boy for the perfect all American white boy.

"He looks like a dick." Jere commented, slumping against the wall and kicking his right foot up so his shoe was resting against it. "Definitely one of those dudes that has his father to thank for everything he is has-including that shit personalityp."

I nodded. If only he knew.

"You're handling it better than I thought you would." Jere continued when I remained silent beside him. "I'll be honest, I thought you'd be rocking back and forth and whispering to yourself by now."

I pressed the side of my phone until the screen went black, still not sure how to feel or what the next move might be.

"You're not surprised." Jeremiah finally said what it had been I couldn't put into words.

If I were being honest with myself, no, I wasn't shocked by the new realization. I think some part of me, however small it may have been, had known it was Adrian Harvey.

"What are you going to do now?" Jere whispered a few minutes later, eyes lingering on my phone. "Addy?"

I wanted to have a plan in place, an answer to the boy beside me, but I couldn't move. I felt as though my entire body were paralyzed where I stood, eyes trained straight ahead on a black locker with a neon pink sticky note easing its way out from the bottom left. Eventually I looked Jere's way and breathed, "I don't know."

*

I found Elise loading the dishwasher once the boys had all dispersed throughout the house, leaving me on the recliner with my eyes sweeping over the same name for over two hours. Jere, who'd been in a heated game of Call of Duty with Gabe, would occasionally throw a worried glance my way, but he didn't speak or try to confiscate my phone as Kayla had. He had learned over the last couple weeks that I had boundaries, and if he crossed them, it wouldn't end well for him. He must have thought this was one of those lines he shouldn't cross.

"Hey, sweetheart." Elise greeted with a small smile as she shut the door of the dishwasher. The click sounded through the eerily silent dining room. "Are you okay? You've been quiet since you walked through the door after school."

"I'm sorry." I blurted before I could think about it. "For the night of my therapy session. I shouldn't have. . . you didn't deserve to be treated that way."

A tight-lipped smile was what I got in return. As she moved passed me to clear the coasters and placemats from the table, she finally answered. "Honey, you don't need to apologize to me. I understand. It's all water under the bridge."

I started to turn on my heel, but the more I thought about sitting in my bedroom in the dark alone, the less I wanted to leave.

"Is everything okay?" my stepmother asked again, thin brows drawing in concern. "Addison?"

I touched my shaky palm to my chest. "My friend sent me the name of the boy who sexually assaulted me in May."

If Elise was shocked, she didn't let on, or maybe she was just master at concealing her emotion. Instead, she pulled the two kitchen chairs to our left out and made a gesture for me to sit. Once I'd lowered myself onto the beige cushion, knocking it slightly askew, she followed suit and extended her hands, taking my trembling fingers and tightening her grasp around them.

"Oh, honey." she eventually managed to force passed her parted lips, eyes roaming me the same way Jeremiah's do when he's trying to figure out where my cracks are and what will send me spiraling further. "I'm so sorry."

"I don't know what to do." I breathed, tearing one of my hands from hers and scratching at my shirt. It was getting harder to get a full breath out, and every time I tried to move my fingers a numbing, tingly sensation would start at my fingertips and spread through my arm. "Elise, I can't breathe. I can't breathe."

She straightened and leaned forward, "You need to breathe in, then exhale. Focus on it. You're having a panic attack, Addison."

I tried as she said, but it only made it worse and my entire body started to shake. "Elise!"

My stepmom's eyes filled with tears as she tried desperately to figure out a way to comfort me. "Addison, baby, you need to slow down your breathing. You're hyperventilating. Deep breath in, deep breath out."

I squeezed my eyes and tried again, relieved when a full breath escaped me as I exhaled. I repeated the same action for a few minutes until the shakes and tingling had faded. With their exit came an overwhelming wave of exhaustion. Elise, relieved, stared over my shoulder with her own cheeks stained with tears. I started to rise shakily, grasping the edge of the dinner table for support, and turned, startled by my father's presence in the entryway. He had dressed down to an oversized t-shirt and black and white plaid pajama pants, his eyes mirroring his wives as he advanced toward me.

I found it far harder to fight the impulse to throw myself into his arms than I had the afternoon at the airport. In fact, I didn't have the energy to try. I closed the space between us and wrapped my arms around his torso, burying my face in his shirt. I immediately felt his arms circle around my waist and cradle me against him. He nuzzled his face in my hair, his grip tightening with every passing second.

I didn't want to think about what my life would have been like if I'd had these the last seven years with my father. If I'd had my daddy's arms to fall into any given time, and the same arms to help me up and encourage me to keep going. I didn't want to think about the nights I'd called and he'd stayed on the phone for hours until I fell asleep, not caring that the bill he'd be paying on our phones would be outrageous.

I didn't want to think about just how different my life would have been if Dad had tried just a little harder.