Hey guys! I just want to warn you that this chapter kind of starts to show the differences between how Gemma saw Ty (calm, unmoving) and what Ty actually was like inside his own head – basically the subjective element of perspective. So I hope you enjoy taking another peek into Ty's mind. Thankyou soooooo much for the reviews, favourites, alerts & messages people =) Made my day/s! A special thankyou to these reviewers: inee, silverwolfkitten, mysticrox123, Jellybabe, Hitsugi Zirkus, Isis1995 & ViNi – double thankyous with cherries on top! Hope you enjoy, please review =)
P.S To silverwolfkitten thankyou for your suggestion =) I'd never really thought about doing the courtroom stuff but I always pictured Ty writing this during the court trial. So I thought I might try and reference what's going on in the courtroom as Ty is writing the letter – I've tried to do it a little in this chapter so let me know if it comes across ok =)
Your eyes didn't like what they saw. You closed them tight again. Maybe you hoped the world would change before you opened them. But the world had already changed. It had changed in so many ways. And you were just waking to it now.
A slight movement under the sheet came from both of your sides. Your fingers, lifting themselves up one by one. I didn't really know why you were doing it but as your hands began searching your body, your motive suddenly clicked.
"I haven't raped you."
It hurt me to have to tell you that. It just made the gap between us feel so much wider. I knew who you were. Not just your name, your school, your age. Not just the statistics that made you who you were to everyone else. But who you were, from the inside out. Completely.
You knew nothing about me. Not even the statistics. I wanted you to know who I was so badly. Because if you did, you'd know that I wouldn't have to tell you. You'd know that I wouldn't. And you wouldn't be reacting the way that you were.
Your fingers twisted themselves into the sheet. You were in no way comforted by my statement. Your head was swinging round, searching for me. Your eyes, being less sharp in their movements than your neck, missed me in the corner to your side. You pushed yourself towards the edge of the bed, scurrying away from my voice. But your arms slumped and your body hit the bed with a soft thud. Your face had pressed itself down into the pillow, a cry from your dry throat was swallowed by it.
It is this moment that always rushes to my mind whenever the lawyers ask you whether I ever showed remorse, or even felt it. It's the question you always hesitate at. I don't know what comes into your head when they ask, what makes you hesitate, but whenever you do, I always want to drag you into my mind, and show you this, the first moment I ever felt doubt in the years and years I had devoted to you, to us.
Because seeing you strung out, terrified of me, crying into a pillow… I can't even tell you. At the time my mind was a blur of swearing and questions I couldn't or didn't want to answer. Fuck. What have I done to her? Fuck. What do I do now? If the people who print those papers with my photo under the headline 'monster' could've seen what you looked like on that bed, I'm sure they would feel justified in their assumption. But looking back, I know the one question that was lying underneath all that. The one question that I didn't even want to admit to myself, even in my own head. Should I take her back?
I don't know where it came from, and I don't even know why I thought it. We were here. We were together. This was right. But seeing you so close, made everything that I'd set in my mind shift, until I was left struggling to compose myself, searching for what to say after years of thinking about what I would say at this moment.
I can't even remember what I said to you. You probably don't remember either. Something about clothes I think. The most unimportant thing I could possibly say. I moved towards you, trying to show you there wasn't anything to be afraid of. I stopped next to the bed, not knowing what to do. You looked up, aware of my closeness, and for the first time since we'd arrived, your eyes met mine.
I don't know what you thought when you saw me. But you definitely thought something. Your eyes looked so sad, like you wished it wasn't me. But it hurt to think that you wished I wasn't here, that you would've preferred to spend forever with someone else, so I cut my thoughts off and tried to talk.
"I brought you here…" You didn't react. I moved closer, my legs pressing into the bed. I felt my throat tighten as I struggled to find something to say. Something that sounded like sorry. Because in that moment, I think I was sorry. "You'll feel sick because of the effects of the drugs. You'll feel weird for a little while… shallow breathing, vertigo, nausea, hallucinations…"
Your eyes scrunched closed as you asked your first question, "why?"
"…I had to." I wanted to make you understand everything that was hidden beneath those three words, why I had to. I wanted you to understand how it was killing you. How your parents, your friends, the city, were draining you. I lowered myself down onto the mattress, wanting to comfort you, wanting all these thoughts to flow from my head into yours. But they didn't and you struggled trying to distance yourself from me. You gave up and curled your legs up into your chest.
"Where am I?"
I didn't know what to say. It was the simplest question you could've asked. I knew how you wanted me to answer. Wanted me to give you some kind of geographic reference. And I knew how I wanted to answer: 'home…'
But how could I tell you that you were home when you'd never even been here before? I couldn't. I just had to tell you what I thought was important.
"You're here… You're safe."