Challenge #23: "So Many Songs, But I'm Feeling So Lonely!"

by Megs

General Idea: Write a one-shot based on a song, either one from the SKoW playlist or another of your choice - as long as it's even remotely related to love, it'll do.

Required:

- the story must follow the plot of the song

- the title of the song must be the title of the story, or at least a part of it (ex: Walking By: Pete's Story, with the song in question being "Walking By" from Something Corporate... you get the gist)

- you must use at least three lines from the song as narration or dialogue. Be sure to bold or underline them.

- give us what song you're using at the beginning of the chapter, along with all the usual skow challenge requirements

- must be at least 6000 words

No:

- this is not a "songfic" so no free-hanging verses in the middle of the story (all song lines added in must make sense and flow with the rest of the story)

Optional: you could turn the one-shot into a chaptered story by using a different song for each chapter; if you're feeling really creative, use the same artist and/or album for the whole story.

Song used: “She Looks to Me” by the Red Hot Chili Peppers

Just to let you know, this has some pretty heavy thematic material in it. Still, I hope you like it. It’s a very personal story for me.

She Looks to Me

To acquaintances, Laurie Biedermann appears to be a normal nineteen year-old girl. To her professors, she’s intelligent and opinionated. To her minister, she’s a faithful believer. To her family and casual friends, she’s quirky, caring, friendly, indecisive, and also rather stubborn.

To me, though…

To me, she’s all of these things. But she’s far more complicated than just that. To me - only me - she’s lost, vulnerable, in pain, and broken.

I’m the only one who knows because, for some reason or other, she never tells anyone else about her problems. She looks to me.

I met Laurie during the fall semester of her freshman year and my sophomore year of college. We were both in the marching band - I was a drummer and she was a sax - and when a large group of our friends were hanging out at the drum major’s house one night, she randomly offered to give me a back massage.

I still have no idea what prompted her to do it. Maybe she’d been drinking. Maybe it was a dare. Maybe it was fate. Whatever it was, though, it kicked off a solid friendship between us. While she was kneading the knots in my back, I told her about some problems I’d been having in my own life. I still wasn’t sure what I wanted to study, and it was getting down to crunch time. I had to make sure I’d taken the intro classes I needed in order to be able to declare my major by the end of sophomore year.

Laurie listened patiently as I spilled my guts, then offered her advice on the matter, which was to take general classes in all four things I was considering, then see which suited me best. For her two cents, she’d thought I’d do well studying government, which has always interested me. Then again, as a gov student concentrating in international relations, she’ll always be slightly biased.

From then on, Laurie and I were close. Of course, the six hour car ride we shared on the way back to school after our fall break helped with that. It’s surprising how much you can learn about a person in that space of time. We talked about everything under the sun, sang along to the music blasting from my car’s speakers, and laughed together like we’d been friends for much longer than just a few weeks.

My favorite part was Laurie’s excitement every time she saw a farm animal out the window. She’s from the suburbs of Boston and doesn’t see them that often, so she eagerly pointed out every horse and cow we passed (and since we go to college in upstate New York, there were a lot of these). I’m from the Midwest and know people who go cow-tipping for fun, so I just laughed.

Still, I’ll never forget what happened when she was on the phone with her best friend from high school. They were talking about her old American History teacher (who seemed to be a demigod in her book), when all of a sudden she looked out the window at a passing pasture, shouted “COW!” really loudly, then went right back to her conversation. She still denies that it happened, of course, but I’ll never let her live that one down as long as I live.

Laurie and I are able to open up to each other easily. Being a guy, I never really gush about my feelings or anything, but I can say with confidence that I tell her more about myself than I tell even my own roommate. She knows everything from my favorite color to the six week phase my mother went through where she stored road kill in our freezer until she could give it a “proper” burial.

Laurie, in turn, tells me all about herself. She’s never struck me as a particularly secretive person, but there are some things that I know she doesn’t go around telling just anyone. I know all about her ADD and the psychologically abusive friendship she was in during high school. She lets me in on her hopes and goals for the future, and as it turns out, her worldview is strikingly similar to mine. We have much in common, from our religious beliefs and political views to our favorite bands and preferred foods.

At any rate, I was used to Laurie coming to me for advice, but when she approached me before band rehearsal one night in October, I definitely wasn’t expecting the bomb that she dropped on me.

“Jack.” She nearly whispered my name. I didn’t like the look of the frown on her face. “Can I talk to you, please? Outside?” Her blue eyes practically pleaded with me. Something was definitely wrong.

“Yeah, of course.” I gently placed my hand between her shoulder blades and led her into a nearby stairwell where we could be alone. We sat side by side on the fourth step up. “What’s on your mind?”

She hesitated, wringing her hands nervously between her legs.

I furrowed my brow. Laurie was never this nervous about telling me things.

“Something… happened… to me,” she finally spoke. “Saturday night at the party, after you left.”

Maybe I shouldn’t have taken off so early… I thought. I gave her a nod, indicating that she should continue.

She swallowed, refusing to meet my eyes. “Things sort of got out of hand.”

I remembered that when I’d left, she’d had three drinks, was dancing in the living room with some friends, and was only tipsy at the most. Since everyone there was in the marching band with us, I hadn’t really been worried about her. I’d only left because things had gotten a bit wild upstairs in the house, and it had kind of weirded me out. A bunch of people had crammed into the spare bedroom and most of the girls were in their bras. Someone had found chocolate syrup and whipped cream, and people had started licking it off of each other in very provocative ways. Ross Welker, a senior in the trombone section, had been pouring boxed wine into people’s mouths, and one of the trumpets had attempted to chug all that was left in the punch bowl. I’d made my exit after a junior in the flute section told me to take off my shirt so she and a sophomore clarinet could lick whipped cream off of my nipples.

“How so?” I asked, hoping that Laurie hadn’t gotten involved in all that.

“I… I…” Her voice suddenly dropped so low that I had to strain my ears to hear what she had to say. “Ross… molested me… and I was too drunk to push him away.”

The first thing I felt was shock. I couldn’t believe that something like that had happened in marching band. Band was our niche, our family away from home. Worse yet, Ross and Laurie had been friends. True, Ross was an asshole, but Laurie had always found his antics amusing. Even I had laughed when he informed her that her sunglasses made her look like a giant bug and teased her by stealing them and running around making buzzing noises.

When the shock wore off, I was filled with a kind of intense fury that I seldom, if ever, experience (I’m generally a pretty level-headed person). I wanted to march back into the band room and knock Ross out with one punch. I wanted to take his trombone and break it over his head. Of course, I knew I couldn’t do either of these things. Ross was much larger than I and could easily take me in a fight.

I sat a moment with my eyes closed to collect myself.

“A-are you… okay?” Laurie asked hesitantly. “Jack?”

I took a deep breath. “Yeah. I just needed a minute to take control of my emotions so I didn’t go punch Ross in the face.”

“Please don’t do that,” she begged. “I’m afraid of what he’ll do if he knows I told someone.”

I put a hand on her shoulder. “Don’t be afraid to tell someone, Laurie. A lot of people who this happens to are, so a lot of assholes get away with it. You should tell Steve,” I added, referring to the band’s head manager. “He can probably take some kind of action.”

“I don’t know… I’ll think about it, I guess.” She rocked back and forth in place. “I… I didn’t really want you to find out at first.”

“Why wouldn’t you want me to know?” I asked, confused.

Laurie looked up at me then, and I could see the telltale glassiness of her eyes as she fought to hold back tears. “Because I thought… you’d think less of me if you knew I’d been… I don’t know, tainted somehow.”

I was taken aback by her response. “Short of you killing someone, nothing you could do would make me think less of you. You know I’d never judge you, Laurie.”

“I know, but still…” she trailed off.

I sighed. “Laurie, please don’t tell me you’re blaming yourself.”

“I was drunk.”

“It doesn’t matter,” I insisted. “He took advantage of you. Did you say no?”

“Yes.”

“There you go.” I took a moment to compose myself before I asked the question I really didn’t want to but knew I had to. “Laurie, did he rape you?”

She shook her head silently, staring at the floor.

“Can you tell me what he did?”

She shivered slightly, tears beginning to leak out of her eyes. “Pretty much everything else.”

I waited for her to go on.

“We…we were upstairs with some other people, and then everyone just started… making out. R-Ross -” it seemed hard for her to say the name “- kept trying to make me… kiss him and Stacey a-at the same time…”

I frowned. Stacey Adams was Ross’s girlfriend. I hadn’t known that she’d been involved.

Laurie swallowed before continuing. “H-he just kept pushing me until I caved. I figured if I kissed them… h-he might leave me alone. So I did. And it was… wet and gross and… just horrible.”

I felt a pang of pity shoot through my heart. Laurie had never been kissed before. Ross had taken something very special away from her, something she’d never get back. That bastard. “Then what happened?” I softly urged, placing a comforting hand on her back.

She wrapped her arms around her knees and hugged them to her chest. “They… t-took me to Ross’s r-room.”

My eyes widened. I didn’t like where this was going.

“W-we were just standing there, kissing, and then he started to u-unhook my b-bra. I told him no… but he just kept saying ‘it’s alright’…and he did it anyway. And I t-told him not to take off my skirt… b-but he did that anyway, too.”

I balled my hands into fists, trying to keep my emotions in check as Laurie continued to weave the horrifying tapestry with her words.

“He… he pulled me and… and Stacey onto his bed… and she sat behind me and laid my h-head in her lap. Then he started… t-touching me and… licking my… b-breasts.”

Laurie blushed heavily at this, and I could tell she was embarrassed to talk about such sexual things in front of me. I took her hand and gave it a squeeze.

Taking a deep breath, she went on. “He kept g-going… down, and he started to… to take off my underwear, and I told him no. I told him I didn’t want him to touch me… down there. But he did it anyway. He started r-rubbing my… you know… oh God, this is so awkward!”

“No, it’s okay,” I assured her. “You can tell me anything, Laurie.”

“I don’t want to say it! It’s so awkward! I can’t make myself say that word in front of you.”

“It’s nothing I haven’t heard before, Laurie,” I pointed out. “I have taken biology.” Besides, I was pretty sure I knew what she was going to say.

She closed her eyes for a moment or two. When she spoke again, her voice had dropped to a whisper. “H-he started rubbing my… my… m-my…c-clitoris -” I squeezed her hand again. “- r-really hard, and it hurt. It s-still hurt the next morning. A-and I told him he was h-hurting me, so he stopped and…started to put a finger…i-inside of me. I told him no again, b-but he just s-said it would be okay and kept g-going. H-he did it with his t-tongue, too. S-Stacey just… s-sat there and played with my b-breasts. She was completely smashed.”

I didn’t think that was a particularly good excuse for just fucking sitting there while an innocent girl was being molested, but I chose not to voice that opinion.

“T-then,” Laurie continued. “Then they started… h-having sex, r-right next to me in the bed. And he t-took my hand and… and… and made me… f-feel them doing it.”

I felt my blood boiling. That was just wrong and twisted in so many ways. No wonder Laurie was such a mess.

She took a shaky breath. “W-when they stopped and went to s-sleep, I snuck out a-and stumbled back into the spare r-room and crashed. In the morning, I w-woke up and I just felt so…dirty a-and violated… a-and I was afraid that God was m-mad at me. I went to church and c-cried so much and just kept p-praying for Him to forgive me.”

Gently, I pulled her into my arms. “He’s not mad at you, Laurie, I promise. It wasn’t your fault, and God loves you no matter what.”

“I know,” she replied. “I know He’s merciful… a-and kind and good. B-but when I was in church… I just felt f-for the first time… like I wasn’t even worthy t-to be there and w-worship Him.”

The dams broke then, and tears began to stream down Laurie’s face. I held her close and let her cry on my favorite Red Hot Chili Peppers t-shirt. I didn’t care if she got mascara stains on it. I just wanted her to feel safe and loved. I rubbed soothing circles on her back as she sobbed, sending mental death wishes to Ross for reducing her to such a state.

I despise men who mistreat women. Maybe it’s how I was raised, or maybe it’s the fact that I have a younger adopted sister, but I’ve always felt that way. It makes me even angrier when the female in question is young, innocent, and inexperienced, as was the case with Laurie.

“Let it out, Laurie,” I whispered. “It’s okay to cry.”

“You’re so good to me, Jack,” she whimpered, picking her face up from my shoulder ever so slightly. “I don’t deserve you.”

I sighed. Laurie had never been so self-depreciating before. “It’s not about what you deserve,” I told her. “It’s what you need.”

She needs somebody to hold, I thought to myself. As long as she needs me, I’ll be that person for her.

It’s been almost two months and Laurie is still in therapy for the Post Traumatic Stress Disorder she’s developed. It seems to be helping her, especially since her psychiatrist put her on antidepressants, but she tells me that aside from God, I’m still the only one who completely understands everything she’s going through. I’m just glad I can be there for her.

If she’s had a bad day, she’ll call me up and I’ll come see her to help distract her from her troubles. Sometimes we’ll watch a movie, sometimes we’ll go outside and play in the snow (we have an ongoing snowball fight rivalry), and sometimes we’ll just sit and talk. We spend time together when she’s doing alright as well, of course. Something about being with her just makes me smile.

I admit that I’ve started to develop feelings for Laurie. I guess some people might write it off as the Florence Nightingale effect - the one where the care-giver falls for the cared-for - but when I think about it, I know it’s more than that. It’s not really an easy feeling to define, though, so I don’t. I just know that I care for her in a romantic sense and I leave it at that.

It’s ten at night on a Wednesday when my cell phone rings and I smile when I see Laurie’s name flash across the screen. I pick up.

“Hey,” I greet her.

“Hey, Jack,” she replies.

“What’s up?”

“Nothing much. You doing anything right now?”

I’ve just finished my homework for the next day, so I happily inform her that I’m free. She seems pleased at this and invites me to her dorm room for tea. I tell her I’ll be there in five minutes or so.

Laurie loves tea. I’ve never met anyone who owns so many different kinds of it. She has teas for pretty much any ailment as well. Sore throat? She has one for that. Stomachache? She has another. She even has a special tea for stress relief, which she brought to me at my frat house one night around Halloween when I was going crazy trying to set up a haunted house in the basement. She tells me she’s been drinking a lot of it lately. I’m just grateful that she hasn’t turned to drugs.

I leave my frat, hop into my car, and drive over to her dorm, finding a parking space right across the street. She’s already waiting for me at the door, her long blonde hair blowing around in the wind and her arms wrapped tightly around her torso to fend off the cold. I stride over to her as quickly as I can.

“Hi, Jack,” she greets me with a hug.

I give her the kind of squeeze I know she likes. “Hey, Laurie.”

She hops back and forth from foot to foot. “Come on in. I’m freezing my ass off out here.”

Chuckling, I follow her inside. We cut across the lobby and into the stairwell, then climb up to the third floor and head down the hall to her room. Elizabeth, her roommate, is off somewhere with her boyfriend, so we’re alone.

“Sit.” She casually waves a hand in the direction of her bed, then picks up the little hot-pot she uses to boil water. “I’ll be right back.”

I hop up onto her comforter and look around her room. It’s the same as it always is: cluttered, but not horribly messy, with the pictures of her family and friends on the wall above her bed arranged in perfectly even, symmetrical shapes and exactly parallel to the floor. I’m convinced that Laurie has OCD or something, but she just laughs about it.

Her comforter, sheets, and pillowcase are all black. When I first saw them, I asked her jokingly if she were secretly a Goth. She’s not. Black apparently “just goes with everything,” as she puts it.

On the wall over her bookcase hang two black and white portraits, one of Alfred Hitchcock and one of Milton Friedman. Laurie made both of them using only her fingerprints and ink. Sometimes I wonder if she has any idea how talented she really is.

“Got the water,” she announces as she comes back into the room. “Let me just boil it…” She plugs the hot-pot in and turns it on, then takes a seat next to me on the bed. “Can I play with your hair while we’re waiting?”

“Sure,” I chuckle. My dark brown hair is extremely curly and Laurie is absolutely fascinated by it. Whenever she gets the chance, she runs her fingers through it and laughs as the curls spring back into place. I don’t mind at all; it actually feels quite nice. She gets to play with my hair and I get a free scalp massage - everybody wins.

Grinning, she scoots right up next to me and threads her left hand through my hair. I close my eyes, enjoying the feeling.

“It’s so soft,” she comments absently. “I could just sit here and do this all day.”

I smile. “Mmm.”

“I went to see my therapist today,” she tells me.

“How did it go?” I ask.

“Well, I think,” she replies.

“What did you talk about?”

“A lot about acceptance and personal strength. She says I’m making progress.”

“Good. I’m proud of you.” I mean it, too.

She sighs. “I still have moments, though, you know?”

I know all too well, having seen her tense up randomly, caught up in flashbacks triggered by certain words and phrases.

“Therapy isn’t instantaneous,” I tell her. “It takes time and an open mind. You have to want it to work. It’s a long walk down those tracks, Laurie. You’ll make it, though, I promise.”

“Another philosophical platitude from the mind of Jack Callaghan.” There’s a smile in her voice.

I grin. Those are my specialty. “You like them and you know it.”

She laughs. “Yeah, I do. They’re endearing.”

There’s a shrill whistling noise from across the room, indicating that the water for tea has boiled. Laurie hops off of the bed to turn off the hot-pot and I immediately mourn the absence of her fingers in my hair. She grabs two mugs from her desk.

“What kind of tea do you want?” she asks.

I usually browse through her selection to make my decision, but tonight I don’t feel like getting up. “You pick.”

“Aw, come on, Jack,” she whines. “You know I’m indecisive! Throw me a bone, here!”

I roll my eyes good-naturedly. “Fine. I’ll have some of the India spice tea, then.”

“Sure.”

I watch her as she pours the tea and am struck by the pure beauty of such a simple action. Laurie Biedermann, in her jeans and loose-fitting sweater, barely even five feet tall, puts all the world to shame. God made this lady that stands before me, and in this moment, I realize I love her.

“Do you want sugar in it, Jack?” she asks, breaking me out of my trance.

I blink. “Um, no, that’s alright. I’ll just take it plain.”

Nodding, she stirs both cups of tea, then brings them back over to the bed. She hands both of them to me. “Can you hold mine while I hop up?”

“Of course.”

She smiles, then does a little jump to get up next to me. Her bed is fairly high - about level with her waist - and given the fact that Laurie’s not the tallest girl in the world, this is a necessary step for her to get onto it.

Once she’s settled, I hand her back her mug. I notice that the tea in it is a bright pinkish-red. “What kind is that?” I ask.

“Tazo Passion,” she answers. “My favorite.”

“You’re not drinking your stress-relief tea today,” I point out, grinning.

She returns my smile, blushing slightly. “Well, when I spend time with you, I don’t feel like I need to.”

My heart skips a beat. “Good,” is the only response I can come up with.

“It’s just… having someone who understands, you know?” she goes on. “You’ve been there for me throughout this whole… thing, and if it weren’t for you, I really don’t know where I’d be.”

“I’m just glad I can help,” I reply, smiling at her.

She is silent for a moment and takes a sip of her tea. “I want to say something, but it’s going to come out sounding really cheesy.”

“I can deal with cheesy.”

She blushes again. “I feel like sometimes… God puts certain people in our lives for a reason. Well…it seems to me like heaven sent you for my roughest night, you know? I just feel so lucky that during the hardest time I’ve ever been through in my life, I have you to talk to.”

I’m overcome with a number of different emotions (pride, happiness, love…), but I try not to let on. I’m still not sure how she feels about me. I just pull her into a hug, being careful not to spill my hot tea on her back. “I’m just glad you knew you could come to me.”

She is quiet, just resting in my arms. “Thanks, Jack,” she finally whispers. “Thanks for being there for me.”

I smile, though she can’t see it. “Anytime, Laurie.”

By the time Senior Night for the marching band rolls around, Laurie is doing much better. I’m about to drive her to the reception and I patiently wait for her in my white Volvo outside of her dorm. One minute passes, then another. Finally, she comes bounding outside, clad in a black dress, pearls, and heels, and hops into the front seat.

“Hey,” she greets me. “Nice suit.”

I glance down at my attire, then back at her. “Thanks. You look nice, too.”

She grins. “Why thank you, Jack. We should get going, or else we’ll be late.”

I shift into drive and start heading down to the building where Senior Night is being held. I’m excited to hear all the seniors make their speeches (as dictated by band tradition), but I’m worried about how Laurie will react when Ross makes his. She’s been avoiding him ever since the… incident.

My attention snaps back to the situation at hand when I see Laurie’s hand reaching to adjust something on my audio settings.

“Don’t even think about it.”

I might love her, but nobody messes with my stereo but me.

She raises an eyebrow at me. “Control freak, much?”

I grin. “Oh, you know me, Laurie…”

“Of course, Jack,” she chuckles, rolling her eyes. “You’re just so authoritative that I positively quake in my boots with fear.”

“You’re not wearing boots,” I point out.

“Details, Jack.” She waves her hand dismissively. “Insignificant details.”

I park in the lot next to the football field and the two of us follow the stream of nicely-dressed bandies into a nearby building. We hang our coats on a rack near the door and I immediately head for the food. It’s nearly seven and I haven’t eaten since breakfast, so I’m rather hungry. Laurie excuses herself and wanders off to talk to a friend of hers who plays the tuba.

“Hey, dude.”

I look up from the chips and salsa to find my friend and fellow drummer, Damian, grinning at me in that goofy way he has.

“Hey, man, what’s up?” I greet him.

He shrugs, grabbing a can of soda. “Nothing much. You just get here?”

“Yeah, I drove Laurie,” I reply.

“Oh, how’s she doing?” he asks. “I haven’t seen her in a couple of days.” Although he doesn’t know as much about Laurie’s situation as I do (no one does), the two of them are pretty close as well and he has at least the gist of what’s going on.

I look over to the girl in question. She’s laughing at something the tuba player (Matt, maybe?) is saying. “She’s definitely doing a lot better.”

Damian blows his hot pink bangs (the result of intense boredom and some rather creative friends) out of his eyes. “That’s good. What’s she going to do when Ross makes his speech, though?”

“That’s what I’m worried about.”

Speak of the devil, Ross Welker chooses this moment to make his entrance. He laughs boisterously at something a sophomore trombone says to him, gives Stacey a disgusting, wet smooch, and makes his way into the room where rows of chairs have been set up for the speeches. I see Laurie shrink back as he passes and quickly scuttle away, back toward me, trying to appear like nothing happened.

She smiles as she spots our pink-banged friend. “Oh, hi, Damian!”

“Heya, Laur,” he greets her, pulling her into a bear hug. “How’s it going?”

She shrugs nonchalantly. “Alright, I guess.”

Damian and I share a worried glance. This is typical Laurie behavior. It’s what she always does: she shows the world up with a smile and then she throws the fight. She puts on a happy mask for the public, but it’s no more than that: a mask.

I zone out as the two of them launch into a conversation about a Nirvana album. I still don’t know if I should tell Laurie about my feelings for her. It’s almost winter break and I don’t want to miss my chance, but I worry about scaring her off. After what happened, the idea of physical intimacy with anyone probably freaks her out, even if it’s subconscious. Of course, I would never push her to go farther than she wants to, anyway.

I just wonder, when I lean in to kiss her, will she see his face and pull away? I don’t want to hurt her, and if being in a relationship with me is going to set off her PTSD, I don’t want to be a part of it. I’ll wait until she’s ready.

Of course, this is all in the case that she returns my feelings. I’m still not sure on that one.

“Jack. Yo, Jack!” Damian punches me in the arm.

“Ow! What the hell, man?”

He jerks his head toward the door to the room with the chairs. “Speeches are starting.”

Rubbing my arm, I follow him in and over to where the drumline is sitting. I notice that Laurie has already joined the saxes. She gives me a wave as I sit down.

When everyone’s settled, the speech-making begins. A senior clarinet named Rachel goes first. I zone out as she prattles on about what band means to her and how much she loves her section. When she’s finished, I clap along with everyone else, even though I wasn’t really paying attention.

A flute goes next, then a tuba. I perk up as a trumpet tells some entertaining stories about when the seniors were freshmen (“I’ll never forget the time JD was so wasted that he actually pissed on the side of Jackson Hall on the way home from a party…”), but other than that, I find the speeches quite boring. When Ross gets up, though, I’m all ears.

“Well, well, guys,” he begins, smirking at the crowd. “I think most of you know me by this point, unless you’ve been living under a fucking rock all semester, but I’m Ross, I’m a bone, and I-”

“Yo, dude,” Damian suddenly whispers in my ear. “Look at Laurie.”

I do as instructed. My eyes widen when I see that she has begun to hyperventilate. After a moment, she whispers something to the girl sitting next to her, then shakily gets to her feet and sneaks out of the room.

“Excuse me,” I whisper to those sitting next to me before going after her. I walk through the room with the food before turning down the hallway. I follow it to an alcove where the bathrooms are located.

I knock on the ladies’ room door. “Laurie, are you in there?”

There’s no answer.

I knock louder. “Laurie! It’s me, Jack!”

Again, no answer.

Sucking up my manly pride, I venture into the forbidden territory and check the stalls. They’re both empty.

Sighing in frustration, I head back into the hallway and walk toward the entryway of the building. I poke my head out of the front door and look around, but Laurie’s nowhere to be seen.

I turn around and go back inside. I let out a sigh of relief when I spot a familiar figure sitting on the marble stairs tucked away at the back of the hall. I swiftly make my way over to her. She’s still hyperventilating.

“Laurie.” I squat down so my eyes are level with hers. “Laurie, are you okay?”

She shakes her head, staring right through me.

I stand her up and put both hands on her shoulders. “Laurie, look at me.”

Her eyes snap to meet mine.

“Calm down. Take a deep breath.”

She inhales slowly, then lets it out.

“Another one.”

She repeats the action.

“You calm now?” I ask.

“I need a hug,” she whimpers.

“Of course.” I bring her into my arms and hold her close. I notice how perfectly she seems to fit against me. I’m not all that tall either, maybe five-foot-seven or eight, so Laurie’s head is just the right height to lie on my shoulder.

She sighs and nuzzles my neck.

I give her a final squeeze, then reluctantly pull away, sitting down on the marble steps and motioning for her to join me, which she does.

“What happened?” I ask.

“Flashback,” she answers simply.

I nod in understanding. The situation needs no further explanation.

She rests her head on the spot she likes, right where my shoulder meets my pectoral muscle. I gently stroke her long blonde hair as we sit in silence.

“My God, I’m so fucked up,” she finally bites out.

“You’re not fucked up,” I insist. “You’re just going through a lot of stuff right now.”

She sits up, picking her head off of my chest. “I know. I’ve just never been such a fucking mess before. You’re so good for sticking with me through all of this.”

“I’m just glad I can help you,” I tell her truthfully. I’ve said this to her what feels like a million times, but that doesn’t change the fact that it’s really how I feel. “Besides,” I add. “If I leave, who’s going to take you home and hold you when things aren’t so bright? That’s what I’m here for, and I’m not going anywhere anytime soon.”

A ghost of a smile graces her lips. “That was so cheesy, Jack.”

I grin. “Sometimes the truth is cheesy.”

Her smile becomes more real. “A little cheese never hurt anyone, I guess.”

“Unless you’re lactose intolerant.”

A lame joke, I know, but we both chuckle.

“I don’t know what I’d do without you, Jack.”

“I’m just glad I can be here for you.”

She groans. “You always say that, Jack. But seriously, just take a minute and realize what an amazing person you are! Jack, you pretty much saved me. All that you’re doing, it means the world to me!”

A little voice pipes up inside of me, telling me that this is the perfect moment. For once, I don’t try to look at the situation logically. For once, I act on my gut instinct.

“I do it because I love you, Laurie.”

She freezes.

I start to babble nervously. “I mean, I know that helping others is the right thing to do, so I do it because of that, too, you know, ‘love thy neighbor as thyself’ and the Golden Rule and all -”

I’m cut off as Laurie softly presses her lips to mine. She pulls away too soon for my liking. “Now, what were you saying, Jack?”

I just stare at her. I can’t even remember what I was babbling about. So I do the only thing I can think of: I stand up, pull Laurie flush against me, and kiss her. I’m overjoyed when she kisses back, wrapping her arms around my neck and moving her lips against mine. After a moment, I stop.

“So… this doesn’t freak you out?” I ask.

She seems confused. “What?”

“This.” I motion between our lips. “I was worried that you’d get nervous because of… well, yeah.”

She blushes. “To be honest, you’re really the only guy I trust in that way anymore. But that’s not why I kissed you,” she hastily amends.

“Then why did you?” I want to hear it from her own lips.

“I’ve actually liked you since that car ride,” she admits. “And, well… it got deeper.”

My heart skips a beat as she looks me straight in the eye.

“I love you, Jack. I have for a while now. I just never thought you’d ever like someone so screwed up.”

I press a kiss to her forehead. “You’re not screwed up. You just have some things to deal with. I’ll be here for you through the whole thing, I promise.”

She smiles. “You already have been.”

A/N: Sorry to those of you who were hoping for a CFCT update, but I promise I’m working on that as well. I just decided to try my hand at a SKoW challenge (a link to the website is in my profile - check it out!).

This really needed to come out. Laurie’s story is almost completely autobiographical, and writing it is helping me with the healing process. I know it’s different from anything I’ve written before, but I hope it spoke to you somehow. If you’ve been abused like this or if you are in the future, please get help. Don’t be afraid to tell someone in authority or just someone you trust. Go to therapy, too. It really does help.

Lastly, I want to dedicate this piece to two people: Kevin, upon whom Jack is based, and my wonderful roommate, DancingChaChaFruit. Without you, I’d be lost.

To my beloved readers, please review if you are so inclined.

Love always,

woodstock1969