Crushed - Pamela Ann Page 0,36
had been too wired to think for itself. As a result, where did that leave me?
“If word gets out about you accusing me of this shit, I have people to back me up. You were into it as much as I was,” Rob vehemently said, leaving me cold.
For a moment, I stared at him, wondering what the truth was. If it wasn’t rape, then what was it? I felt like he was manipulating me to believe his version of the truth, even if I wasn’t so easily convinced of the bullshit he was feeding me.
On the verge of tears and with my body about to violently shake from anger, I whispered a quick goodbye and took my exit. I just couldn’t—wouldn’t—stand there while Rob kept pointing fingers at me without even having remorse about the aftermath or any consideration about my feelings and what I was going through emotionally. He was basically brushing me off as though I was not important, as if for me to go through this was madness, that it was mad for me to even question any of it. After all, it wasn’t rape, even if I hadn’t given consent, not entirely.
It didn’t take long to get back to Carter’s house, and then it was frustrating that I had to park a block away because there were no available spots around due to another house party. Did these guys ever tire of boozing and whoring? I mean, I knew it was summer, but hell, that shit happened on a nightly basis.
Since I was parked a little farther, I dragged each step towards the house, taking my time to process everything while drying the moisture in my eyes. Clearly, I was upset, and as much as I wanted to channel all of it to Rob, I couldn’t. After the confrontation I had just had with him, it sounded like, if there was anyone to blame, it would be me. However, I didn’t want to go in there and be a complete mess. Cooper and Brody would be out for blood. And it would have been fine had I known what it truly was.
Emotionally and mentally, I was chaotic madness. My thoughts kept jumping to and fro, the endless self-loathing and name-calling driving me to a darker place, one far worse than what I was used to.
I felt so alone and didn’t have it in me to tell Trista, the person closest to me. I wasn’t sure why, but I didn’t feel comfortable sharing something so unbearable. The very idea of saying it out loud … I just couldn’t handle it.
Letting out a heavy sigh, I held my breath as I pushed the front door open, entering the foyer and anticipating the sickening sound of happy, partying people, a noise that brought me back to last night.
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.
“Amber?” Cooper’s voice halted my deteriorating sanity as he closed in on me before I felt his arms envelop me in a warm hug.
My body immediately stiffened, dead as a log. I knew this was Cooper—I fucking grew up with him—but being near a man … It was too soon for me. I just couldn’t help my instant reaction, and that was to shut up immediately.
Normally, I would be cheerful, joking about him or the party, but right now, my brain was blank. I couldn’t sum up a word to save my life.
Cooper’s frown was deepening by the second as he stared at my odd appearance and attitude.
“You don’t look okay,” he observed, voicing out the obvious less than stellar state I was in.
Granted, I hadn’t applied any make-up or bothered doing anything to my semi-wet hair, but looking pretty was the furthest thing from my mind when I had left the house, scrambling to figure out how to confront Rob without alarming him.
Making a wan smile, I avoided his intent gaze.
“I’m just … probably still hung over,” I meekly whispered as I tried to make my way towards the stairs, avoiding any more of his questions I wasn’t ready nor prepared to answer.
Heavily, I could feel his scrutinizing eyes on me, most likely puzzled and worried at my behavior. As much as I wanted to dwell on Cooper and where his thoughts might be, I was too consumed with my own shit storm.
How would I be able to dig myself out of this?
I was lost. I had weaved myself into a web where monsters liked to dwell.
After all that I had gone through with my almost overdose with my