j a i m e e

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I got out of the Uber, staring at the clear sky above me. It didn't make sense. Everything in my life was crashing down, the pain is constant. I expected dark skies, or rain at least. Something somewhat similar to the agony I feel inside of me, drowning me like ocean tides. After two weeks of me leaving Shayden voicemails, missed calls and texts, he'd replied with one word. The location where we spent most of our High School days.

Entering the High School grounds, it almost became surreal that I'd never walked into the place before without Shayden by my side. Memories overwhelm me as I walk through the dormant corridors, passing the detention room that we both spent most of our time in. My eyes slowly but surely catch the S.N and J.M that we engraved onto the door frame on our last day as Seniors. Everyone always speaks about High School as if it was the worst thing ever, but I adored my time here more than anything. They were the best days of my life, and I wouldn't trade any of it for the world.

I head to the soccer pitch, my steps laden as I walk over the grass to the small wooden hut on the opposite side. Shayden and I had spent pretty much every lunchtime or free period in the hut, unless the rain was too awful to venture in. It almost seemed like a completely different lifetime. Maybe it was. We should've known, deep down, that our happiness would be short lived. We went through a lot together but we still stayed happy. It hurts to think of how much we have changed, individually and as a couple. It's times like these that I wish I was just having a nightmare. Maybe I'll wake up and we'll still be in High School, nothing would've happened and he wouldn't have existed.

We'd probably skip Gym and spend another lesson just sitting in the Hut, hiding from the scary gym teacher who despised our punctuality almost as much as she despised students.

The seating area is still there, the chipped paint littered with lost dreams and old reminders.

Our names are carved into the metal too, our obsession with leaving our mark on the world around us painfully obvious. As well as announcing that we were always together. If you wanted to deal with one of us, you'd have to deal with the other too.

That's when I spot him. His elbows rest on his knees, his head in his hands shooting up once he hears my footsteps.

We sit in silent for a few minutes, the only sounds being our breathing.

"Do you remember that day in Sophomore Year?" Shayden starts off quietly, eyes glued onto the concrete. "When we hid in here from that Junior?"

My lips tug up at the reminder. This was our spot, our safe haven. So many secrets and little imperfections about ourselves were shared here.

"He hated you." I say, laughing slightly. The run from the Cafeteria to the Hut was the most I've ever ran in my life, it almost made me start going to Gym class just to get fit again.

Almost being the keyword.

"Us." Shayden looks up now, a soft grin playing on his lips. "He hated us."

Of course he did, it was Shayden and I or nothing at all.

The only reply Shay receives is a gust of wind outside, the rumble echoing within the small frame.

My fingers run unconsciously over our names, sketching out the letter with the utmost precision and delicacy, as if the metal would break under too much pressure.

No one knew about this place. That's what made it so special. Not Taylor or Libbie. Not him.

This was the one place in this whole goddamned school that I was sure Cameron Mason never touched.

"Remember when you started a food fight in the Canteen?" I chuckled, shaking my head at the fact we spent the next two weeks in detention without actually doing anything other than kissing due to the fact the teacher could sleep for England. It was amazing. "You threw that chocolate cake in Bethany Jacob's face. I swear she was crying everyday for the entire week after because Taylor then put glitter in her hair and she couldn't wash any of it out."

It was one of the best days of my life. Not only had we all made history as the first every food fight in our school but it was one of the last good days I spent with my parents.

"We really did reign hell."

Silence. Again. It seems to foreign in a place I used to class as my second home.

"I'm sorry that I've not answered anything." He starts off, "I...I couldn't process it. And that's really selfish and I'm sorry and I won't make any excuses."

"It's fine. You don't owe me anything." I swallow down the anxiety looming my throat, telling myself that I will not cry or break or show any signs of vulnerability.

I've never discussed it with anyone other than the police or my therapist before. It's a weird feeling.

"Do I know him?" He asks. I stay silent for a few moments before he sighs, putting his head back in his hands. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have asked that. I keep fucking this up, I don't know how to act or what to say."

"Join the club." I scoff, hoping that his last sentence will distract him from the first. How can I tell him that the person who did it was like a brother to him?

"I can't even imagine how you feel. I'm sorry you had to do this alone."

"Stop apologizing." I snap before I can stop myself, "You don't need to apologize. You didn't know because I didn't want you to know. If you hadn't figured it out, you still wouldn't."

"Was that the plan? To never tell anyone?" His eyes squint, pity shining within his eyes.

It pisses me off. That fucking awful emotion. I don't want pity. I don't need it.

"Till the day I died. Probably after it too." I reply bluntly, shrugging my shoulders.

"Why?"

"It was just easier this way. Dealing with shit on my own is all I know about."

"No." His eyebrows furrow, frowning. "No, that's not true. We did everything together. The good, the bad. We're a team, Jai. You lean on me, I lean on you. Everything that happened in those five years, we dealt with together so don't bullshit me with that."

"I didn't know how you'd react." The words hurt to say, "I freaked, okay? I didn't want to speak to you about it and you would've asked questions. And we were going to College in different states, at least I thought we were, anyways so I thought I'd just save you the fucked up burden. You could go find another college girl somewhere different, instead of worrying about the fucked up one you had waiting for you at home."

"Fucked up burden?" He repeats, sounding baffled. "Jai, I would've stayed with you. I-" He stops, noticing my reaction. "Don't give me that look. I would've taken a year off or gone to Harvard. You've always been my priority, because I love you. And being there for you isn't a burden, you're my family. If my Mom would've needed me, I would've fucked off College for her so why would it be different for you?"

"Because I didn't want you to do that. You deserved to go off to some amazing College and find the girl of your dreams, the girl who wasn't messed up." I get what he's saying. Truly, I do. But I can't accept it. "And you hated Harvard."

"Fuck, Mendoza. Did you lose all your brain cells in the past four years too? You are my person. You've been my person since that day when we were 13 and 10 years later and things aren't any different. And I would've chosen Harvard, for you."

"I couldn't have asked that of you."

"But you needed me or at least someone. Just to lean on if things got too much." Shayden sighs, interlocking his fingers together. "I was researching it all. A lot of people who've been....attacked suffer with trauma symptoms. Nightmares, panic attacks, hypervigilance. It doesn't make you weak if you need to depend on someone, Jai."

"I don't." My eyebrows furrow, "I get the anxiety and the hypervigilance and the general fear of anything happening. But nightmares, yeah no. Panic attacks are only sometimes. Everyone has this expectation that you need to be traumatised if you've been raped. Like not being to do everyday things without being overtaken by anxiety attacks or depression. It's never been like that for me. So it always made me question whether I should be doing therapy sessions and speaking as if I've been through this awful thing. Because so many people have it worse, you know? So many people can't function and need help, more so than me."

"Just because some people are impacted differently doesn't mean your trauma is any less valid than theirs. What hurts someone could kill someone else. Everyone's got different limits. There's no hierarchy for it, love." Shayden explains. His words comfort me slightly, helping me to feel a little less crazy for these feelings.

I nod my head, finally being able to breathe a little easier. "Thank you, Shay."

He looks up at me through his long eyelashes, and I inhale deeply when I see the tears shining in his eyes. Shayden leans his hand out towards my cheek slowly, giving me time to move away but once I don't, he cups my cheek softly. His thumb runs along the bags under my eyes gently, studying the slight redness that came from complete lack of sleep. His eyes were red-rimmed too, but whether it was from exhaustion or his tears wasn't clear.

"Don't ever thank me." He whispers, "You should be hitting me, or screaming, or both. I ignored everyone because I thought I needed time. Me! As if I had any reason to need a mental break when you've gone through hell for four years."

"It was hard to get your head around." I placed my hand over his, moving my head slightly so I could plant a small kiss onto his open palm. "It's okay."

"You're so beautiful." He awes, tugging his bottom lip between his teeth. "You're so strong, Mendoza. Fuck, I admire you so much."

This time it's my eyes swimming with tears and I close them in a bid to keep them contained. These words meant so much to me. More than I ever could've comprehended.

Sometimes, no matter how strong we are, we just need someone to reassure us that we've got this.

"What about us?" I gathered the courage to ask, not sure if I wanted to know his answer or not. "Where do we go from now?"

Shayden's eyes flicker with something I can't decipher, but he takes a deep breath. "That's completely up to you, Jaimee. You're in control. Whatever you want. If you want to stay together, if you don't want to see me anymore...It's up to you. I don't want you to feel like you have to do anything that you don't want and I definitely don't want you to feel liable to make a decision based on me. Everything from now is your choice, and I'll respect that."

"When he..." I trail off, the words getting stuck in my throat. "When that happened, I never had a choice over what he did to me. I never had a choice on the fear, and the panic, and the overthinking. I didn't have a choice on whether they'd find him guilty or not. But now, I've learnt that I have the power to choose what happens in my life and who I want beside me. I chose you, I chose us. No matter what. It's you, every single time."

The grin that etched onto his face is something completely beyond this world. The way the black ink pools of his eyes shimmer with happiness. The way his nose scrunches up as his smile completely illuminates his face.

He holds out his pinky expectantly, "I chose you too."

I link my finger with his, smiling.