Clay swallows thickly. “Did he.” He pauses, swallows again and then speaks. “Did he rape you?”

I laugh and the sound is dark and hollow. “Does it matter?”

He nods. “Yes, it does.”

“And what if he did? What would you do if I told you that he raped me?”

“I’d take you to the police and I’d make sure he got what he deserved.”

“So, stalking and imprisonment is okay, but you draw the line at rape?” I scoff. “I’ll have to remember that.”

“Oh fuck, he raped you, didn’t he? Jesus, fuck, I didn’t, I didn’t… Let’s go, I’ll take you now, we’ll go to the police, now. Did he, er did he hurt you, I mean other than that? Oh fuck,” Clay’s rambling, his words coming out in an almost indistinguishable rush as he jumps up from the grass and holds out his hand for me to take, then immediately drops it to his side again. “I’m sorry, of course you don’t want me to touch you, I let him… fuck.”

“He didn’t rape me.” I could have said he did, I could have used this as a way to get my revenge, to get away from them once and for all, but it would be a lie. As much as I wish everything he’d done to me had been taken, the moment he touches me, I’m more than willing.

“He, he didn’t?”

“No, although it’s nice to know you do have a conscience in there somewhere.”

“I would never, not knowingly.”

“But you didn’t know, did you? You let him force me to sleep in his bed, not knowing or really caring what he’d do to me, or if I’d be okay with it. Is that any different really?” I ask.

His hands are shaking as he runs them through his hair, pressing his lips together in a firm line. I swear there are tears in his eyes, but before I have a chance to ask him, he shakes his head. “You’re right, it’s no better.” Then he turns and walks away, leaving me alone, sitting on the grass, watching him go.

17

SEBASTIAN

Clay’s face is tight and pale when he throws open the front door and storms into the kitchen. “Did you rape her?”

“What?”

“Did you rape her?”

“No, of course I fucking didn’t, I love her. Where the fuck is she?”

“When I left her she was sitting beneath a tree. But that’s not important, I want you to look me in the eye and promise on her life that you didn’t fucking rape her.”

Standing, I cross the room to where one of my best friends is looking at me like I’m a fucking monster and stop when I’m only inches from him. Then I lock eyes with his. “I didn’t rape her.”

He nods, then steps back and rubs at his face with his hands.

“Did she tell you I did?”

Laughing, he shakes his head, his eyes glassy. “No, she said you didn’t rape her, but she did make me see things a little more from her fucking side. We can’t do this. We can’t keep her here. I know you call her little bird, but she’s a human and she doesn’t want this. I won’t be her jailer anymore.”