Fall for You: Boys of Alabama

She nods and sniffles. “I’m ready. My therapist thinks I’m ready, too.” Therapist? I had no clue she was going to therapy. She taps the book with her finger. “She has me doing these journal entries, thinks it will help me to write it all down. Read this,” she whispers, “then we’ll chat.”

She stands and moves to the opposite end of the kitchen and presses her forehead against the patio door, staring outback. I drop my eyes down to the notebook and begin reading.

I can’t believe I’m writing this. I know my therapist says it will help, but I’m not sure anything ever will. It feels like I’m living someone else’s life, like this is some made for Lifetime movie shit or something. It all happened so fast. One minute I was locking up the studio and the next minute I was up against the side of the building with a knife pressed to my throat. Terror. That’s all I felt.

“Don’t say a word or I’ll slit your throat and let you bleed out, do you understand me?” He spoke against my ear, voice low. I nodded. “Good, now, you’re going to unlock that door and we are going to go back inside,” my hands shook. I turned the key that was still in the lock the opposite direction and he shoved the door open. I stumbled and righted myself as he shut the door and locked it behind him, turning back around. This huge man that towered over me. All I could see were his eyes. He had a handkerchief covering the bottom half of his face and a black beanie over his hair.

“Strip,” he ordered, prowling toward me. I shook my head and put my hands out in front of me, backing away from him.

“No, please. You can have whatever you want. The money out of the safe. My car. I swear, just please, god no,” my voice cracked at the same time my back hit the wall. He closed in on me, wrapping his hand around my throat.

“I don’t want your fucking money, Clarissa,” he hissed, grabbing me by my arm and dragging me into a dark studio. “Always prancing around in those fucking yoga shorts and your sports bra, teasing me,” he said, shedding his coat and shoving me to the ground. I’ve spent so many sleepless nights trying to think of how I could know this monster, how he c

ould call me by name.

He ripped the front of my shirt open and I screamed, trying to fight him, but it wasn’t any use. All I could do was lay there while he raped me. Stole something that wasn’t his. I fought. I said no, but he didn’t stop until he was finished.

I don’t know how long I laid there curled up into a ball after he left, sobs wracking my body. It had to have been hours before the night janitor found me and called the police.

I still find it hard to believe that something like this could have happened to me. Shit like this happened to other people. I’ve spent hours in therapy and it’s helping. I’m not sure I’ll ever feel safe again, though. How will I ever be able to be with a man after what’s happened to me?

I’m sobbing by the time I finish reading the journal entry. I can hear Clarissa sobbing, too.

“Oh my god, Clarissa. Why didn’t you call me? You know I would have been there. You didn’t have to go through this alone.” I’m up with my arms wrapped around her as she cries.

“I couldn’t,” she whispers. “I was so fucking ashamed that this happened to me. Awful things happen to other people. Not me, Lex. I was so embarrassed. Fuck, I’m STILL embarrassed.” She swipes the tears from her face, and I shove back so she can see my face.

“Don’t you EVER feel ashamed or embarrassed. This is NOT your fault, do you hear me? Did they catch the mother fucker that did this?” She shakes her head no.

“They did a test on me and took DNA but he's not in the system. I check in with the detective on my case once a week, but no. Nothing,” she says. “I had to tell you, had to tell someone. I couldn’t eat. I couldn’t sleep. I spent the weeks after the assault locked in my apartment. I was fucking terrified that he’d find me. He called me by my name, Alexis,” she sobs, leaning against the patio door and sliding down it until she’s sitting, wrapping her arms around her knees. “Whoever did this, I have to know who it was. He called me by my name. I couldn’t stay there anymore, I had to leave.” I drop down in front of her. I don’t know what to say. There’s nothing I could say that would make this any better.

“I put a closed sign on the studio and I just left,” she whispers, meeting my eyes for the first time. “I couldn’t keep looking over my shoulder, wondering when the next time would be. No one knows I left except the detective that’s working my case. All I could think was what if he finds me and does it again? So, I ran. I ran away like a fucking coward and I’ve been hiding in Monroeville for months, too scared to tell you. Too scared to go home,” she shrugs, looking so defeated.

“You are not a coward, Clarissa Rae. You are brave and beautiful. Thank you for telling me. For trusting me,” I reach out and lay my hands on top of hers. “Whatever you need, I’m your girl. Got it?” She gives me a sad smile and nods. “Got it,” she whispers, and I open my arms, letting her crawl into my lap where we stay while she cries.

Lex

"Grocery shopping on a kid-free Tuesday. Is this what our life has come to?" Ford says as he tosses a couple boxes of mac and cheese in the cart. A few days have passed since Clarissa told me about what happened to her. I’ve been spending a lot of my time with her, trying to help her sort out her thoughts. She’s started apartment hunting because her therapist thinks it would be good for her to be on her own again and I’m trying to be supportive. We’ve been vetting safe neighborhoods and searching for a good security system that she can take with her.

I snort at what Ford said, scratching macaroni off my list. I look up when I feel the cart shift. There he is, standing on the end of it, hanging on like he's five again. I arch an eyebrow at him.

"If you think for one second I'm pushing you, you're dead wrong," I say, clicking my pen and tucking it back in my purse. I prop my hands on my hips. "Also, it was nice of your mom to keep the kids while we shop. We should get her a bottle of wine." I grab my pen to write it on the list just as I hear Ford scoff and mumble, "yeah or condoms."

Yeah, he's still unhappy Nina is in a new relationship. I can't help it, I laugh so hard. He narrows his eyes at me.

"I'm serious, Alexis," he hisses across the cart, "I walked in on them the other day. I'll never get the image of Steve's white ass out of my head. Never." I cannot. I wipe the tears streaming down my face and look at the pure horror on his face.

He's ridiculous. And I love him. And I proceed to tell him both of those things as we round the next aisle. I'm grabbing some canned veggies from the shelf when one of my favorite country slow songs comes over the speakers. After depositing the cans in our cart, I tuck my pen in my messy bun and toss the list back in my purse.

"There. All done. Now you can stop complaining." I turn around and he’s slow dancing in the middle of the aisle all by himself. He smiles at me with his boyish grin.

“Dance with me, Lex,” he says shimmying his shoulders and extending his hand to me. I laugh, putting my hand in his and letting him pull me towards him. My arms go around his neck and his loop around my back and before I know it we are slow dancing in the middle of aisle five. He brushes his lips against my temple. “Did I ever tell you that my mom and dad would always slow dance?” He murmurs while we sway side to side.

“Really? That’s adorable.”

“We always thought it was disgusting,” he laughs, pulling me flush against his body. “They were so in love. And every day, no matter how tired he was, dad would come home from work, turn on the record player, and take mom for a spin around the kitchen. I always hoped one day I would find a love like theirs.” He tilts my head up and kisses me softly on the lips.

I toy with his shirt, nervous to ask the hard questions but desperate to know the answers.