Page 65 of Gabriel
The answer to his question should be obvious. No. Cecilia’s suicide attempt is not something I’ve given any thought to beyond making sure it doesn’t happen again.
“What kind of question is that?”
He knows what my brother did. He showed up not long after the ambulance took Carlos’s body away. Julio and Felix were the only people there for me. Allie had moved by then. Mom and Dad were both wrecked. And me, I was in fucking shock. Felix had to drag me into the shower and turn the water to cold before I snapped out of it enough to tear off my blood-stained clothes. He knows what Carlos’s suicide did to me. To my family.
There is no good reason for me to dwell on Cecilia’s failed attempt. If I have it my way, it was her first and last and we don’t need to revisit what happened that night again.
“What if she tried to get help, came forward, named her attacker, and nothing came of it? We’re assuming she wanted to take her own life because of the rape, but that’s not what sends people over the edge.”
“I think you need to drop your psych class. It’s making you over analyze this shit.”
“Hear me out. There’s a timeline of things, right?”
My brows draw together. “Yeah. I guess.”
“People commit suicide when they feel hopeless. I don’t think rape alone made Cecilia feel that way. It’s traumatic as fuck. But it’s a single event.” He pauses to make sure I’m following, and after I give him a short nod, he continues. “Rape, along with any form of assault, comes with baggage. Lifelong trauma for the victim to manage. But a person is at their lowest point when the assault occurs. That is when they feel hopeless, especially if no one intervenes.”
“So something or someone made her feel more hopeless than when the assault went down?”
He nods. “I think so. I’m getting a B- in Psych this semester, so don’t quote me, but I’m guessing she was assaulted and did try to get help. She came forward, told her story, but whoever it was that hurt her walked. If that was the case?—”
I don’t like where this is going.
“Then—“
“No. I don’t accept that.” No one gets a free pass to hurt women. I don’t care who you are. The fucker deserves to go to prison. To have his life stripped away. He deserves to suffer just as much, no, more, than Cecilia has been made to suffer.
“You might have to.”
“Bullshit. You want to tell me if Allie’s attacker didn’t end up in jail, if that sonovabitch walked after what he did to her, that the three of us wouldn’t be rolling up to Sun Valley to handle it in our own way?”
A nerve ticks in his jaw. “He didn’t get locked up because he raped her.”
“No,” I agree. “He didn’t. But justice was served all the same. If the fucker who hurt Cecilia got off on the assault, we find another way to make him pay.”
“That doesn’t land our asses expelled or in jail.”
“Sure,” I tell him. We’ll go with that.
CHAPTER 22
CECILIA
My days blur together, but this time, in a good way. Before, time dragged on. Every second felt like a minute as I’d sit in my room, begging for it all—time, the world, everything—to just to stop.
I’m not desperate for the day to end anymore. I no longer dread each morning as it begins. It’s such a mental mind shift, I’m still trying to wrap my head around it. I sorta forgot what it was like to… breathe, I guess. Getting out of bed doesn’t feel like this herculean effort any more. I have something to look forward to. Things I want to do.
Most days, I catch myself watching the clock, eager for the moments when my path and Gabriel’s cross. I look forward to seeing him, which makes it hard to resent the fact he’s in two of my classes. Though I try anyway. Can’t make it easy on him. Do that and I may as well shout out loud that I condone his behavior. His need to be with me all the time. To know what I’m doing and where I’m at. Gabriel takes overprotectiveness to a whole new level, but he also makes life bearable.
Every morning, he greets me with a kiss on the cheek, and a can of Crush soda waits for me in the center of my desk. Andafter I take my seat, without fail, he grabs the legs of my desk and chair and drags me closer to him until he can throw his arm around my shoulder, where it remains for the duration of class. No matter where we’re at or what the situation is, Gabriel always makes contact. His hand in mine. A hand on my thigh. His arm around my shoulder is the most common, but he always maintains physical contact between us somehow.
I keep waiting for this to get old. For him to forget about the soda or lose the motivation to drag over my chair, but two weeks into whatever this thing between us is, and he still does it. Every single day.
I already know I’ll be more than a little disappointed when it inevitably comes to an end.
“You studying in the library after class today?”
We’ve developed a routine. During the week, we see each other during the two classes we share, and we always meet up with the guys for lunch. We usually stay on campus to save time before our next classes, but now and then, we go back to their place like we did before and Julio mans the grill while the rest of us hangout.
