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“Caleb, I’m home!” You pull off your shoes in the entryway of Caleb’s home; cheeks flushed from the snowy weather outside. The man in question is getting up from the couch to greet you.
“Why didn't you call? I was going to pick you up.” A puppyish, disappointed frown forms on his face as he comes over, helping you out of your winter coat and brushing snow out of your hair. “Did something happen at the reunion party?”
“I left early and thought you’d still be sleeping after working all night.” You obediently stand still as he warms your face with his palms. “Also, I just wasn’t feeling the vibe. But get this. Do you remember that kid that asked me out in sophomore year of high school? Mark? He’s in prison for assault. Can you believe it?” Caleb’s puppy-eyed frown quickly flashes to one of anger. You blink up at him, surprised, only for him to put on a mask of benign interest.
“Is that so?” He picks up you without warning, and you wrap your arms around his neck as he carries you to the living room. You poke his cheek with a half scowl.
“What was that expression? Are you hiding something from me?”
“Now why would I do that?” He sits on the couch, you in his lap, and continues to warm you up, taking your hands and blowing on them. A heat rises in your cheeks as you study his face. It’s almost unfair for him to be such a dangerous mix of handsome and cute. You’ve always had your breath coming short when you stared at him for too long, or sometimes even when you sneak glances. Caleb’s lips arch into a sly smile, and he places a feather light kiss on your fingertips.
“Someone’s having devious thoughts.”
“Nuh-uh.” You pout at him. “They were extremely pure, I’ll have you know.”
“So the blush is just because you’re’ cold, right?”
“Yup.”
“And you’re not tense because you’re thinking of anything dirty, right?”
You flush further and try to tug your hands from his grip, but find them caught tight. The low purr to his voice is reminding you of a night a few days prior, where your relationship had finally slid into something more physical. Nothing had happened other than neck kisses and some heavy petting. Yet his voice at the time was burned into your memory like a brand. He used his intonation like he used his guns, deliberately and yet with an expressiveness that had your mind going blank. And now he was pulling you closer, dropping his voice to a whisper, and nosing under your ear. “You’re shivering. Is that because of the cold too?”
All you can do is whine and try to change the subject. “Stop teasing me… I just wanted to tell you about the reunion and now you’re being mean.”
“You can still tell me.” He chuckles, his breath tickling the skin of your neck. “If you can focus for long enough.”
You bite your lip, suddenly feeling stubborn, and keep your voice steady as he starts placing kisses on your neck. “Well, I just thought Mark was a bit pushy, but Bethony said that he was always a creep. Do you remember that girl in my class, Cleo? The one with freckles and glasses who always had her nose in a book? Apparently he might have done something really bad to her and that’s why her parents relocated. It was around the time when he stopped going to school for two months then showed back up and avoided everyone.”
Caleb just hums into the skin on your neck. Yet you hear a deeper note to it, an anger that you can’t place. The memory of the day Mark returned to school, his face blanching when he caught sight of you, flares to light in your mind. You firmly push Caleb away and meet his eyes.
“Did you do something to him?”
“So quick to accuse me of something? I’m hurt.” His sly grin almost hides the dark flash in his eyes, and you’re quick to catch his face in your hands.
“No way, mister.” You scowl at him. “Answer me or I’m going to ignore your calls for a week.”
“Them’s fightin’ words, pipsqueak.” His smile falters, then he’s looking at you with a serious expression. “That fucker did do something to Cleo. He raped her. Her older sister was in my class and broke down during one of our small-group study sessions. So I… took care of it.”
You blink at him. “You just… believed her.”
Caleb frowns at you, seeming confused. “Of course I did.”
“What if Cleo lied?”
“The hell, pip?” He pinches your cheek, seeming even more confused. “I didn’t expect you to say something like that. The rate of false sexual assault reports is like… itty bitty. So-”
“No, no.” You shake your head emphatically. “I’m just surprised that a guy would just… dunno, believe us.”
He closes his eyes and lets out a slow breath. “Well, that’s just because the world is a screwed up place. But it hurts to hear that you don’t think I’m at least a decent human being.”
“Says the person who might have beat a boy so black and blue that he was out of school for two months.”
“He shoulda been out for a year after what I did to him.” Caleb scowl deepens. “And I told him that I’d kill him if he ever did it again. Guess monsters never learn.”
You gaze at him, not sure how to feel. Right now, Caleb looks like the scary version of himself you saw in the interrogation room. Yet you feel like there’s a little candle in your chest; a flickering thing you’d thought had been extinguished forever. Caleb’s expression shifts again, becoming one of concern. “What’s wrong, pip? You look like you’re about to cry?”
“Oh…” You bring a hand to your eyes and it comes away wet. “Sorry, I…”
You don’t know what to say, so you just stare at the tears on your fingers. Caleb quickly hugs you, patting your back, and you wonder who’s making a sobbing sound. Then you realize that it’s you, and you’re suddenly so ashamed that you want to dig into the ground and never emerge.
“S-Sorry.” You choke down tears. “M-Must be… I’m fine. Everything’s fine.”
“No, it’s obviously not.” Caleb strokes your hair, and you relax into his comforting hold. “What is it? Are you mad I beat him up?”
“No…” You sniff, voice warbled as you hide your face in his neck. Tears soak his shirt and you feel guilty. But, then again, he’s never complained when you cried on his shoulder before, never called you a liar, never looked at you with a gaze that said ‘it was your fault.’
He cradles you until you’re more in control of your emotions, and you sit up properly, obedient as he uses his sleeve to dry your tears. You only draw the line when he tries to wipe your nose.
“Here.” He reaches over to grab the box of tissues on the side table, and your brow furrows when you realize that they were there all along. He holds one to your nose. “Blow.”
“No way.” You snag it from him, feeling embarrassed that he’s treating you like when you were younger. Caleb waits patiently as you turn your head away and blow your nose.
“Sooo…” He strokes your hair with one hand as he takes the tissue with the other, expertly tossing it in the small wastebasket off to the side of the couch. “Are you mad at me or is it something else?”
“I’m not mad at you.” You fiddle with your shirt, unable to meet his eyes. But Caleb, as always, isn’t deterred, and takes your chin to make you look at him.
“I’d never hurt you.” He says, a pained expression flashing over his face. “You know that, right?”
“Yeah.” You nod to emphasize your point. “And… I’m glad you did what you did. I know it’s wrong to want someone to hurt, but he wasn’t really a human if he could do something that horrific.” Caleb caresses under your eyes, rough hands still gentle on your skin, and your chest constricts so painfully that you almost start crying again. “...’s not fair.”
“What was that, pipsqueak?”
“Life isn’t fair.” A tear makes its way down your cheek as more memories reemerge, swiping sharp claws at your heart that mark you with shame and fear. The obligatory drinks with old friends; the suspicious nausea after only one beer; the dizzy feeling; the empty bathroom; the man’s fingers on your upper arm, pulling and yanking. He was someone you called a friend, once, someone you’d trusted. Someone you’d laughed with. But now he was just a dark shadow in your memories. Jenna had believed your fib about being sick, let you take the day off, but the authorities were a different story. Their eyes were cold and empty, branding you a liar, their words clipped and judgmental, and you’d been so scared that you’d left without even having a report filed. It was like the world went on without you, as you were trapped in that terrifying moment. A moment only you seemed to remember.
Caleb gently holds your face in his hands. “Stay with me, pip. You need to breathe.”
You blink at him, then realize you’re shaking so badly that your eyes can’t focus, and your lungs feel like they’re filled with cement. You struggle for air as he keeps his voice calm and steady.
“Everything is going to be okay.” He says gently. “You’re having a panic attack. It’s completely normal and will pass. Focus on my voice, okay?”
You want to nod, but can only stare at him wide eyed. Your body is no longer a safe place. It’s dirty, tainted, jagged and sharp; a cage where you beat your wings bloody to escape. Yet Caleb’s voice comes through the bars of your confinement; his tone gentle and loving.
“I’m here for you. You can take as long as you want. Just listen to my voice. It’s snowing outside, we’re warm and safe inside. It’s just you and me in the whole world. No one else can come in unless we allow them to. Okay?”
He paints a picture of somewhere clean, of white snow and fluffy blankets. You almost feel like it’s real, as if you can cocoon yourself and Caleb against anything that would harm you. He places a kiss on your forehead.
“Can you take a deep breath for me, pipsqueak? It’s nice. The air smells like fresh laundry.” You manage to gulp down some air, and it slightly eases the pressure in your lungs. Caleb sounds so proud, so delighted that you took just a single breath. “Good girl. Now can you wiggle your fingers. Even one is okay.”
This is harder. You’re still shaking; your body’s control wrenched away by a shadow who’s laughing at your pain. Tears escape your eyes and something akin to a whine slips past your lips. Caleb kisses you again, tone soft as feathers against your skin.
“Then take another breath. Big inhale, long exhale.” He smiles when you comply. “Good girl. One more for me. That’s it.”
He’s suddenly so bright, a protective shield against the dark, and you tangle your fingers in the front of his shirt. If Caleb had been there, he would have done as he always did: kept a protective hand over your drink when you weren’t paying attention, kept his eyes on anyone that got too close. Kept you safe. He would have made the shadow monster into just that, a shadow to be thrown out into the street, and you would never have been the wiser. But he wasn’t there. He’d been laying in a coffin, at least that’s what you’d thought at the time, and you’d been alone. So, so alone. Caleb’s breath brushes over your nose as he kisses the tip of it.
“Now that you’re not shaking so much, can you tell me three things in the room? It can be anything.” You stutter out something, then realize that it’s his name. He smiles at you. “Yeah, I’m here with you. What about two other things?”
“T-Tissues.” Your lips tremble as you try to get ahold of yourself. “Couch.”
“Perfect.’ He murmurs, “Now what about three sounds?”
“Voice.” You stammer, “Dripping faucet. Should fix that.”
He laughs, the sound soft and clear, and you lean in to hide your face in his neck. He pats your back comfortingly. “Good enough. Now what about three body parts?”
“Wrists.” You sniffle as a few more tears slide down your face. “Neck. T-There were bruises everywhere. It h-hurt so much.”
He goes quiet, and you feel his body tense. Shame and self-loathing consume you until you’re a shivering mess again. You’re so sure he’ll get mad, will look at you with disgust, ask you why you were even drinking in the first place, tell you ‘you should have known.’ But he doesn’t, he holds you close and murmurs in your ear, voice oddly broken.
“You’re safe, pipsqueak. You’ll always be safe from now on.”
You whimper, and he hugs you tighter. The pressure is soothing, reminding you that outside of the sharp cage is something warmer, brighter, stronger. He peels away the bars and gives you the walls of a home instead. One where there’s a door, and as much as he wants to keep you safe and protected, he’ll always give you the key. Your emotions slowly calm, the clock ticking by, until you feel somewhat recovered. Yet the shame is still there, the sick, nauseating feeling that comes with the knowledge that he probably figured out your secret. You wonder what his expression will be when you pull back to look at him. Anger, maybe, regret definitely. Yet his face holds neither of those things. Instead he’s looking at you like you’re the sun at dawn despite the tears in his eyes.
“There she is.” He says, and you hear a crack in his soft voice. So it wasn’t pity or disgust. It was empathy. He’s hiding his grief to allow you to be the focus. Yet you still catch the regret, his own self-loathing breaking through, and you kiss away his tears. Caleb tries to laugh it off, but you can hear the pain in his tone. “Maybe I should cry more if you’re gonna be like this.”
“Don’t cry.” You murmur, “It was my fault. I-”
“No.” He takes your shoulders, expression firm while his touch is gentle. “It was not your fault. Repeat after me. Not. Your. Fault.”
You swallow and try, but find that you can’t say the words. But he doesn’t push and only kisses your forehead. The two of you remain in silence until you speak up, voice small.
“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you before. I should have, I just…”
“You had no obligation to tell me.” He says gently, “But can I ask one question?”
You hesitate but nod. The worst he can do is ask for details, but you’re willing to suffer the pain of recounting the assault if that’s what he really wants. But he doesn’t. Instead, his question surprises you.
“Are there things I shouldn’t do?” He says, “Things that might remind you of it?”
You blink at him. There’s nothing about him that reminds you of that night, nothing he does or says. Instead, he’s like fresh water over stains, diluting them with his presence, until there are days where you even forget the assault happened.
“No…” You swallow wetly. “Why aren’t you asking… how…”
“Because it isn’t my place to ask.” He shrugs. “It’s no one’s place but yours, and you get to decide if or when you want to talk about it. You also get to decide who to tell and how. Though I might be droppin’ names of psychologists in your texts if you don’t already have one.”
“You’re one to talk.” You grumble, then look at him curiously. “How’d you know it was a panic attack and all the… stuff.”
He averts his eyes, sighs, and then returns his gaze to yours. “I’ve had… a few.”
“A few..?”
“Okay.” He tries to grin but it comes off stiff. “A lot. So I’ve got some practice with dealin’ with them.”
You hug him around the neck and he breathes in that perfect way that’s almost like a happy purr.
“Don’t be scared.” You murmur, “I’ll make the monsters go away.”
“You always do.” He chuckles, stroking your back. The two of you remain in comfortable silence until you brave telling him more.
“I tried to go to the police…” More tears well and your voice cracks, but you push through. “They kept asking why I didn’t scream for help. I should have, I know I should have but I was so scared and…”
“It’s okay.” Caleb kisses under your ear, voice reassuring. “When the fight or flight system takes over, like when you’re hurt or scared, it can shut your body down. It’s protective. Kinda like when animals try to play dead. So your body was just trying to protect you. And…” His voice cracks, becoming raspy. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry I left you alone. I’m…”
He goes quiet, and you can tell that he’s trying not to cry. Yet the way his body trembles and his breaths rasp reveal how much pain he’s in. You cover him in feather-light kisses, the last one on his lips.
“You save me.” You murmur, “In my dreams, you always save me. It feels real. And it keeps feeling more real the more you’re with me.”
You can tell it isn’t fully effective, but he relaxes a bit, even lets you kiss him deeper and even pulls your body flush to his. But he’s still the first to break away.
“I don’t want to scare you.” He says, a look of deep guilt in his eyes. “Promise me if you ever feel uncomfortable or need space.”
“The last thing I need is space.” You pout at him. “Space takes you away from me for weeks, and space means I can’t breathe when you’re not right next to me.”
“Careful.” He teases as he wipes away the tears in his eyes. “I might take advantage of you if you say that.”
“Take all the advantage you want.” You tap your forehead to his. “And… can I be honest?”
“I’d prefer if you were honest all the time.”
You hesitate, averting your eyes. “...’m scared that I’ll panic when we… do that.”
“Oh.” He’s quiet for a bit, causing a bolt of anxiety to run through you, then eases it with his gentle words. “We don’t have to. Never ever, if you want. That’s not to say that I don’t want to. I think it’s pretty clear that I do, but sex is just… extra. All I need is you next to me, by my side.” He chuckles, tone becoming lighter. “Aaaand maybe you wearin’ my shirts.”
“Needy.” You tease, kissing his forehead as you sing your words. “Caleb’s a needy, cute, silly boy who makes me feel safe and sound, snug as a bug in a rug.”
He takes your chin and kisses you properly. “And I’ll be your safe space forever and ever, pipsqueak. I’ll never leave your side again.”