That's my story, from start to finish.  More like the end to mid-way... and I'm still left on a cliffhanger.  Since then, Brendon hadn't called, texted, or anything.

I glance over to the wall I saw him leaning against when we first met.

A week after graduation, and here I am, sitting in the bar where we made eye-contact.  I've relived our entire history, why is he spooking me?  Samuel, Jason, and Ambergail never did that.  Is it because I knew Brendon longer?

I sip my whiskey.

I've read in stories that ghosts usually haunt people who disturb them or have unfinished business.  A more realistic application would be guilt.  If a person feels guilty, usually from defiance, the person affected remains in the subconscious and can materialize spontaneously. What have I been running from?

I narrow my brows.

I can't say I've been so much better off without him because I really don't know.  Brendon only subtly, but surely, came into fruition as I was engaging in intercourse with other people.  It became prevelant the more people I did it with.   So what, next time I'll envision him having intercourse with me again?  Shit.  But why him?  I'm the one that left, for the safety of us both. It could be because he said he loved me, or because there were things I simply refused to tell him.  Well, it's more like one thing -- I haven't told anyone though.  My uncle and I don't discuss 'That night.'  Why is Brendon the one bothering me?   I'm trapped in this nightmare and I can't wake up.  I need to wake up.

I sigh.

I'm only doing this to clear my conscience.

I take my phone out of my pocket and find his contact.  All of the messages are still there.

Me: Can you meet?

I'm about to set it down when it buzzes.

Brendon: When and where?

Me: The pier.   20 minutes?

Brendon: ... Okay.

I gulp the rest of my drink, and leave the money on the bar, climbing down from my stool. It's a ten-minute walk and when I get there, I stare into the endless distance of the water, highlighted by the white of the moon.  It's truly... calm, peaceful. Dare I say it's -

"Callie."

My head snaps to see Brendon.  He's holding something.

That's my hoodie.

He comes a little closer.  "Thought you'd want this back," he holds it out.

I stare at it as if seeing it for the first time.

He kept it for an entire year.

I take it.  It's soft in my hands.  I run my fingers over the shoulder of it.

He kept it laundered and sewed the holes.   "Thanks,"

I put it on, seeing him grin through my peripheral vision.

"I uh," he says.   "Was hoping I'd see you again."

I turn back to the water.

"Also considering that... you messaged me, I thought -"

"I decided I'm going to tell you," I cut him off.   "But you have to swear that you won't tell anyone."

He's still for a second, taking what's been handed to him so far, but that's nothing compared to what's coming.   He nods.   "Okay, I swear."

I nod.   "When we met, I told you I was thinking about stuff.   The more time we spent together, I said my parents were dead and I lived with my Uncle -"

"The alcoholic."

I nod.   "You asked if he had ever done anything to me."

The tension is so thick, you could cut it with a knife.  "I call it 'That Night' because it's the night that put everything in my life from that point on into motion.  Why we met... why I let people pay me for sex... "

Brendon's giving me his full attention.

"He was in his room, drunk.  I was watching television downstairs, and he called me.  I answered, but there was no response.   He called again and I answered, but there was no response.  The third time, I just went upstairs.  He was standing there with a beer bottle in his hand and his hair disheveled.  His eyes were slightly red too.   For a minute, he didn't say anything.   He was completely wasted."

I rake my upper lip with my bottom teeth.

"After the silence, he says, 'Get on the bed.' Of course, I... didn't feel quite right.   I tried to run away, but he grabbed me and shut the door.   I thrashed around but he was too strong."

His eyes are burning into me now.

"He threw me on the bed and pulled my pants down.   Then, there was this... pushing sensation from behind.   It hurt at first, but I relaxed into it.   I didn't enjoy it for long though, because... I blacked out."

Brendon's lost his voice, which is something I never thought could be possible.

"I don't know how long I was out.   When I came to, I heard crying.   My uncle was in the corner, bawling with his face in his knees, reiterating how sorry he was and couldn't control himself. I didn't say anything.  I didn't know what to say.   I just pulled my pants up, took my jacket and wallet and wandered aimlessly until I found the bar.   I ordered my drink and sat there."

I look Brendon in the eye.  "Remember when I told you the first time I had sex, it felt good for the wrong reason?"

He nods.

I shrug.   "That was it.   The whole time in the bar, I was thinking about how pleasurable it was. Before then, I didn't feel anything at all.   It's like... unbeknownst to me, I've been drowning.  But it helped me breathe again.  Sex is what made me... not numb.   And that's how I knew."

Brendon nods and sighs.   "Okay."

I glare at him in shock.  "That's it?"

"What?"

" 'Okay?'   I spill my guts about my sexually abusive Uncle and the best you can offer is 'Okay?' "

"I'm not saying it's not fucked up, it is.   I don't know what else to say."

Good point.   "Alright. Well, you weren't annoying and actually listened, so, I'll give you that."

"Thanks."

I nod.

He reaches and takes a hold of my arm, but I retract it quickly.

"What are you..." When I meet his look of concern, I groan in aggravation and mutter, "For fuck's sake," as I roll up my sleeve.   "I'm clean, Brendon!   I haven't cut since I showed you!"

He gets a light hold of it again, but I pull it back and push him lightly.   "I don't know why you care so much," I mumble as I roll the sleeve down and put my hands back in my pocket.

"So, if that wasn't the reason why you struggle with emotions, then what is?"

I shake my head. "I don't know."

"Was it losing your parents?"

I rub my face in my hands, "For fuck's sake, Brendon!  I don't know!  If there was some magic pill that would make me a normal person with feelings and social skills, believe me, I would take it!  I didn't ask to be this way!  I hate it!  I'm barely even a person!  That's why I cut!  That's why I have sex!  They make... me feel... normal!"  Air hitches in my throat.   "There it is. Those are the secrets of Callie Armstrong.   Are you happy?  Now you know.   I'm broken.   No one can fix me. Not you, my uncle, or anyone.   You were just the only one who cared enough to try."

He stands there, staring at me for a full minute until he says, "You know, I have this theory where... you can't know happiness unless you know sadness.  So how can you really heal yourself unless you hurt yourself."

Now I'm the statue.

"It's okay, to not be okay."

Only two words come to mind: "Fuck you."

"Cal-"

"No.  Fuck... you.  Alright?"

"Did I do something wrong to you?"

You came into my life.  We ruined each other.  This was supposed to be exclusively sex, but we got way too close.

My eyes fall to the ground and I shake my head.  "It's always been me."

"Callie- " Brendon tries to say, but I cut him off.

"No, it has.  I've tried to communicate that I don't want your empty help, but we've always gotten... caught up.  So I ran away.  If life is pain, then I'm dead inside.   I have been for a long time."

He gazes at the ground and blinks rapidly.   "You're wrong."

"What?"

He fixates on me.   "I said, you're wrong"  more sternly this time.  "You have feelings, Callie, you just don't experience them like everyone else.  It comes from your troubled past."

Thanks for the psychoanalysis, Freud.

"You get angry, depressed, dazed, euphoric, and more,"  he continues.  "The negative ones are more toward yourself but... you didn't ask for any of this, and neither did I.   But I don't regret it."

Why?   "Why?"

He folds his lips, sighing.  "I've said it once, and I'll say it again, only this time, I'm sure."

Oh no.   Please tell me he's not gonna --

"I love you."

I close my eyes and inhale deeply, put my face in my hands and groan loudly, which turns into a full, neutral - voiced scream when I take them off.

Brendon remains at his position, his perception shifting to the ground in practical embarrassment as if expecting me to have the next word.

I take a few deep breaths to compose myself and put my hands in my hoodie pockets.  "Look, Brendon, you're a good guy, okay?  Inside and out, in a non- sexual way.  I mean that.   I want you to be happy, even if it's not with me.  I know you and Sarah go through shit, but she's lucky to have you in her life.  Even if you guys divorce one day, which I highly recommend you don't, I'm not who you want to be with.  You need someone who loves you, genuinely loves you.  And I can't reciprocate that. I may not understand love, but I know that and... you can't fake love on either end. It's something both people just have to earn."

He's speechless and this time, I understand why.  I've been so open about everything about myself. He's learned more about me in one night than he did in a month.  How do you reply?

"Is this the last time we're gonna see each other," he finally says.

One more thing about Brendon, he's smart.   Not just for figuring that out, but for getting as much out of me as he did when we first met, up until our last encounter.

I nod.

Is he going to insist that we have sex one last time?

"Then can I have a hug?  Nothing sexual.  Just a really good hug.  Please?"

Wow.  Didn't expect him to say that.

Again, I nod and we remove our hands from our pockets to embrace each other.   For the last time, he runs his hand through my hair, slowly entangling every curl between his fingers.  It lasts longer than a normal hug - much longer.  The other hand slowly travels up my back, tracing my spine.  He lightly starts to brush his fingers against the back of my neck.  My head becomes slightly heavier as the weight of his face is in my hair, taking a deep inhale.  The hot air of the blow from his nostrils is accompanied by a light hum from his mouth that makes a calm vibration in my scalp.  I almost don't want to break the hug, but I sigh when I do.

"Goodbye, Brendon."   I turn on my heel and walk away.

"Callie!"

I stop and turn.

"Did you really mean that?"

"What?"

"Is Sarah lucky to have me?"

I shrug a shoulder.   "Doesn't have to be her.   It could be anybody.  But yes."  I expect him to smile, but he doesn't.   "Thanks for everything."

And I head home.