“Everyone thinks it’s my fault,” she said.

“What?”

“Even you.”

“That’s not true!” I cried.

“Isn’t it? They asked me at the hospital if this had ever happened before, and I just knew what they were thinking: Why didn’t you ever report it? I know that’s what you think too. Jack, your parents, Christian. Why didn’t I just fucking say something earlier, save everyone the trouble—the doctors, the police, the court?” She was gasping, openly sobbing now, her breaths shallow.

“Elise?” I gently touched her arm and pulled away immediately when she flinched. I stared out at the road. “You can’t drive like this. Pull over.” She didn’t seem to hear me.

“And the truth is, I’m mad too! Why didn’t I say anything sooner? It seems so fucking obvious now. Why didn’t I just fucking say something? What’s wrong with me?” The heel of her palm hit the steering wheel over and over. “It was my fault.”

“No,” I said. “It wasn’t. It wasn’t, it wasn’t.” Tears fell, running down my face. Every awful thing that had been simmering between us was now out in the open. Her anger, my guilt. My anger, her guilt.

“I just keep thinking, if I’d only told someone, if I hadn’t left my room that night, if I’d been faster, stronger, fought him off. If only—”

If only, if only.

Finally she decelerated and pulled over.

“And now I’m going to have to live with it forever. The looks of pity follow me everywhere. Even from you.”

“No,” I tried to interject.

“Every time I talk to Evan, or Jae and Julie, or meet someone new, I always think, Oh God, do you know? Like I can’t be sure if you or Jack told anyone.”

“We haven’t,” I said. “I swear.”

She ignored me. “Sometimes I think people just know. Like they can smell it on me, like they take one look at me and see right through this tough-girl act and see the real me, this weak, useless thing, and I hate it. I can’t stand it. This is what he’s reduced me to, Remy. I’m pathetic.”

“No, you’re not,” I said, pleading with her. “You’re not.”

“I’ll never be anything different. I’ll never be able to forget that night.” She hunched forward, left arm clutching her ribs almost instinctively, like she was being kicked. “I dream about it all the time. I can’t stop thinking about it. I’ll never be free. Never, ever.”

“I’m sorry,” I said, crying harder. The whole world closed in around just the two of us in that car. The highway, the few other cars rushing past us, it all seemed to disappear into the night until it was just Elise and me and the Pink Caddy by the side of a road to nowhere.

“And now I know I’ll never escape it. Now I know I’ll always be that weak, pathetic girl getting the shit beat out of her.” She seemed to deflate, a once-bright star caving in on itself. “I thought”—she shook her head weakly—“I thought coming here would make me feel better. I thought getting back at him, even just a little, would be enough. If I just, I don’t know. But it doesn’t matter. He could die and it wouldn’t make a difference.” The tears kept coming, but she no longer bothered to wipe them away.