Unspeakable (45 page)

The plane shimmied and shook as it roared down the runway. I had a death grip on the armrests when I felt the wheels lift off the ground. A lump grew in my throat, and it felt like a hand was squeezing my heart. Sadness flowed through me. I knew I’d never set foot in Middleton again. Probably not even in Michigan.

As the miles ticked by, the less the hand squeezed and the more my heart sang. Was I sad? Maybe. Did I have regrets? Yes—I’d wanted to see Brody once more before I left. Was I happy? Yes. My nightmare was finally over. I didn’t have any more secrets.

I was free.

“I can’t believe I’m going to be late for my first day of class,” I muttered. “I don’t even have time to stop for a freakin’ Starbucks.” I jogged across the campus to the building where my first class was held. I threw open the door and nearly hit the students standing in the hall talking. “Excuse me,” I yelled over my shoulder. “Sorry.”

I made it to the lecture hall just before the professor started his lecture, which was more a warning of what he expected of us and what we could expect to get out of the class. From what I could tell, it would be lots and lots of homework and even more exams. Sounded like lots of fun.

I was glancing through the syllabus when someone set something on my desk. I looked up and a Starbucks cup was next to my textbook. I turned, and his sapphire eyes stared into mine.

“Caramel Macchiato, right?”

“Mm-hmm.” I nodded. I couldn’t find my voice. I definitely couldn’t form words.

“I’ll meet you outside after your class is over.” He turned and walked out of the lecture hall.

It was the longest class ever. I didn’t think my professor would ever shut up.

“How’d you find me, Ace?”

“Were you trying to hide? Because if you were, you shouldn’t have put your name in the campus directory.” He grinned. The crooked one that always melted my heart.

“What are you doing here, Brody?”

“Trying to ask a girl out on a date. So far, I don’t think it’s going well.”

“You came all the way to California to ask me on a date?”

“Who said it was you?” he teased.

I sighed and looked away, drumming my fingers on the strap of my messenger bag. “I—”

“Give us a chance, Willow. Things could’ve been different if it wasn’t for Ralph and everything he put you through. Things can be different. I love you. I always have. My world wasn’t complete until you entered it. It’s been hell without you.”

I shook my head, fighting tears. “I’m not looking for a long-distance relationship. And I can’t go back to Michigan.”

“Neither am I.” Brody bit his bottom lip, rolling it between his teeth.

“Then I’m confused. Why are you here?” I blew out a breath.

I’ve worked so hard to forget you and move on. Seeing you is like a razor blade slicing open old wounds.

“I needed to see you.” He placed a lock of hair behind my ear, and I fought the urge to lean into his hand.

“That doesn’t change anything. I live here. You live there. I can’t do that. I’m sorry,” I whispered and turned away.

My hands were shaking and my knees felt like jelly. I couldn’t believe I was forced to walk away from him again. How many times would fate throw us together only to rip us apart?

“I don’t live in Middleton anymore. I live one dorm away from you,” he called after me.

I stopped. “What?”

“I moved out here to go to school… and to be near you. Mostly to be near you.” He took me by the shoulders and gently turned me around to face him. His eyes searched mine. “So see, if you don’t go out with me, it’ll be a wasted trip.” He stuffed his hands in his pockets, his arms held straight, making his shoulders rise.

My eyes narrowed at him and I shook my head slowly, trying to process what he was telling me. “There are a lot of things we need to work out, to talk about.”

“I know, and we will. I’ll talk to you every minute of every day for the rest of my life if you’ll just give us another chance. We both deserve it,” he said quietly. He ran his finger down the side of my face. “I love you and I’m lost without you, Willow. Give us a chance. Go out with me.”

“Okay, I’ll go out with you, but I’m picking the movie.”

We started walking through the campus. Brody took my hand and brought it to his mouth, kissing the inside of my wrist before he threaded his fingers with mine.

“Just promise me you’ll wear one of your famous T-shirts.” He squeezed my hand.

“Oh.” I giggled. “I have the perfect one.”

“True love stories never have endings.”

~Richard Bach

Hello, I hope you enjoyed Willow’s story. It was not only one of my favorites to write, but also one of the hardest.
Unspeakable
is a story straight from my heart. Domestic violence has touched my life and left a scar that reminds me, even though I’m not fighting the war any longer, others are still battling, hurting, feeling alone, and broken. I want you to know, it can change. You can change. You are not alone.

According to the CDC, twenty people per minute are victims of some type of physical violence in their relationship. The United States Department of Justice estimates 960,000 cases of domestic violence occur a year.

Senator Dianne Feinstein is quoted as saying, “Domestic violence does not only happen to adults, forty percent of girls age fourteen to seventeen report knowing someone their age who has been hit or beaten by a boyfriend, and approximately
one in five female high school students
reports being physically and/or sexually abused by a dating partner.”

The relationships depicted between Jaden and Willow, and Ralph and Willow were not based on love. They were relationships built on foundations of threats, abuse, and fear.

Love shouldn’t include any of these. It’s about mutual respect, security, and a desire to be together. It’s not easy to make a relationship work, even when you love a person. It takes time and commitment. But threats from one partner to the other are never part of the process. Stalking isn’t permissible. Touching your loved one in a way designed to inflict bodily harm is absolutely intolerable.

If you are in a relationship like the one I’ve described, there are programs that can help. It doesn’t matter what your situation. Your background isn’t an issue, neither is your race or religion. The people who volunteer at hotlines or emergency shelters are only interested in one thing:
Your Safety
.

Because Love Shouldn’t Hurt.

Please seek help. I’ve included some websites that may answer your questions. They include confidential hotlines to give you someone to talk to. However, if you believe your computer is being monitored, please take precautions and use a library or coffee shop computer. Even empting your history doesn’t completely erase where you’ve been, so be cautious.

The National Domestic Violence Hotline: 
www.thehotline.org

‎Love is Respect: National Teen Dating Abuse Hotline:
http://www.loveisrespect.org/

Feminist Majority Foundation:
http://www.feminist.org/911/crisis.html

National Resource Center on Domestic Violence: 
http://www.nrcdv.org/

Helpguide.Org:
http://www.helpguide.org/mental/domestic_violence_abuse_help_treatment_prevention.htm

National Coalition Against Domestic Violence:
http://www.ncadv.org/protectyourself/GettingHelp.php

AVAD:
http://avda-tx.org/

If these sites aren’t helpful, run a Google search for organizations in your area.

Protect yourself. You are worth it!

Sources:

The Centers for Disease Control, “NISVS Infographic.” CDC Home. 30 September 2014.
http://www.cdc.gov/violenceprevention/nisvs/infographic.html
 

The Department of Justice, “Bureau of Justice Statistics.” Statistic Brain. 30 September 2014.
http://www.statisticbrain.com/domestic-violence-abuse-stats/

This is perhaps the hardest page for me to write. There are so many people to thank, and I know, before I even start typing, I’ll forget someone. So if you are reading this and wondering why I didn’t thank you, please forgive me. It isn’t because I don’t appreciate you or the hard work you put into bringing
Unspeakable
to life. I absolutely do! It’s because my brain is somewhere between fried and mush.

First, I’d like to thank my family. You are so supportive of my writing. I couldn’t ask for a better group of cheerleaders. From cover critiquing to proofreading, and even doing laundry, you do more to encourage my writing career than anyone else. I want you all to know that I probably don’t tell you enough, but I see what you do, and I appreciate it, even the littlest things, like Mom having a stock of Coke in her apartment for me when I get a migraine. I love you all and I don’t know what I would do without you. Larry, you always put a smile on my face when you come home each night and ask me, “How was work?” That little question shows me how much value you place on my writing. It’s not a hobby, but a career, and that’s how you treat it. It’s in writing, my love, and words are eternal.