I Love You, I Hate You: Part 1

I shudder, blinking back tears at the memory because I didn’t know any better. I stare up at the clouds, not wanting to see the disgust on Danika’s face. “I looked up to Dr. Shaffer. I thought he had my best interest at heart, that he wanted to help me break through my depression and become comfortable talking to people. Do you remember in the sixth grade when our school forced us to learn about sex trafficking and what to do if someone tries to hurt you? I sat in that lesson, shrinking deeper inside myself, realizing that I was a victim. There were at least a dozen things mentioned that hadn’t happened to me, but a good handful did. My stomach twisted into a million knots that afternoon as Mom drove me to my weekly session. I sat on the same brown plush loveseat, wondering if there were other boys Dr. Shaffer was doing this too, or if it was just me.”

“Logan,” Danika whispers, interrupting my story. “You don’t have to tell me any more. I get it. Whatever you did to that man, he deserved it.”

I shake my head and sit up, bringing my knees to my chest and wrapping my arms around my legs. “You don’t, because he wanted me to touch him. He said we were nearing the end of our sessions. I just had to prove to him I was ready. I would have done it too, had the school not shown us that program.”

Danika places her hand on my back, rubbing small circles. “What happened to you wasn’t your fault, Logan.”

I jerk my shoulder and stand, walking to the shoreline. The water kisses my feet as the waves crash onto the sand. It’s cold, like I expected but I don’t shiver. I watch Danika’s shadow approach. She stops just outside of the water’s reach. I cross arms, hugging myself and stare at a speck on the horizon. “Mom took Dr. Shaffer’s side when he said I tried to seduce him. Never even asked for my side of the story. She wouldn’t look at me the whole drive home, but I knew she was going to tell my dad and that he would wake me up in the middle of the night and drag me into his office.”

Danika steps into the water and wraps her arms around my waist. “Stop,” she whispers. I look over my shoulder; silent tears trail down her cheeks. “I don’t need to hear anymore.”

These are the demons I live with every day. The ones who take every good feeling and twist them into a living reminder of my nightmare. Just when I thought they’d been chased away forever, they’re back. “You don’t even know half of it yet. What if you leave me when you find out the rest?” I’d understand if Danika ran, if she pulled away and stopped fighting to be whatever it is that we are. We both know we aren’t just friends. We’ve crossed too many lines.

She shakes her head. “It doesn’t matter. I’m not going anywhere, and whatever you did to that man, he deserved it. ”

43

Danika

Logan and I spent the rest of the afternoon in my living room watching reality TV on Netflix. He doesn’t want to go back to his house and I don’t blame him. When we pulled into my driveway a few hours ago, that same white car was still next door. Not to mention, his mom was a royal cunt today. It blows my mind that she’s never noticed what Logan went through. I’m glad Mrs. Harris welcomed Piper into her home, but she shouldn’t have taken on another child when she had one that desperately needed her attention.

Sitting on the couch, we don’t talk about what Dr. Shaffer did to Logan, or what happened after. I don’t need to know, although I’m sure at some point he will tell me. It makes sense now, why he was so worried about his secret.

He thought he’d already told me

He was worried I’d blab.

I shake my head and chuckle under my breath. Stupid man. The alarm on my phone goes off. I grab my phone off the side table and silence it with a frown. “Dad’s coming home soon.”

Logan pushes the button on the remote to pause the show. He stands, grabbing his own phone and the cup he drank out of and wordlessly walks to the kitchen. He rinses it in the sink and says, “I should go.”

I don’t want Logan to leave. He’s been withdrawn ever since we got back from the beach. I get it, I do. Talking about your trauma reopens the wounds. I thought he’d cry or maybe even yell during his story. Instead he was stoic. Even now every word, every movement is controlled and cold.

He opens the door for me, letting me out first then freezes. I fol

low his gaze, to the white BMW leaving his driveway. “Logan?”

He swallows hard and closes his eyes. I reach for his hand but Logan shakes his head, so I step back. After a few moments of silence, his thick lashes lift and he looks at his driveway again. “I need a drink.”

Logan turns his head, but I touch his cheek, forcing him to look at me. I’m scared. Scared he’s going to spiral backwards into the jerk he used to be. Scared he’s going to seek comfort in the bottom of a bottle instead of my arms. He might not be used to people having his back but I do. I’m here and I’m not going anywhere. “Don’t do that.”

“Do what?” Logan reaches in his pocket and pulls out his phone, thumbs tapping away at his screen.

I feel the distance growing between us with each passing second. What’s it going to be like when he walks away. Will I be able to get him back? I touch Logan’s arm, silently pleading for him to look at me. I’m trying to be strong for him, but my own armor is cracking. “Don’t put up that wall again. Let me in Logan.”

He exhales loudly and shakes his head. We turn our heads to the sound of tires on pavement. My dad closes his car door and smiles up at us. He waves to Logan, unaware of the storm brewing beneath the surface.

“Talk to your dad.” Logan’s phone dings, his lips lifting at the corner. “I’ve gotta go.”

Logan marches to his house, closing the door behind him and my heart sinks. It’s always two steps forward and then five steps back with him. Every time I think we’ve made a breakthrough, he shuts me out again. It’s frustrating as hell.

Dad stops on the porch, greeting me with a side hug. “Hey, kiddo. I didn’t know you were home.”

I stare at the Harris house, mentally willing Logan to come outside again. An invisible noose wraps around my neck. Squeezing tighter with each passing second. “Yeah, plans changed.”

Dad sets his brief case down and touches my shoulder. “Honey, are you okay?”

Am I okay? No, I’m far from it. My boyfriend was abused for years as a kid and I’m just finding out about it. His mom is an idiot who ignored the signs and his dad was an abusive prick. How Logan has coped without turning to drugs or alcohol is beyond me. Then again, he might have. I was gone for three years. There’s a huge window of his life I know nothing about.