someone reliving her trauma. “There was this…charge. I don’t know how else to describe it. It was thrilling to be there. To do something I shouldn’t. I’d always been a rule follower, always did what was expected of me with little or no argument. So to be somewhere we weren’t supposed to be was a rush.”
“What was the house like?” I don’t know why I ask her that. Maybe to distract her from what she’s about to tell me. Or perhaps to prepare myself for it.
“Incredible. It was built in the Italianate style. Low-pitched roof. Symmetrical, rectangular shape. Wide, overhanging eaves. Square cupola on the top. A porch with balustraded balconies. Molded double doors. Roman arches above the windows and doors. And that’s just the exterior. But when we stepped inside… It was like stepping back in time. I didn’t understand why the college hadn’t done anything with the house, why it seemed to be frozen in time of the last day it served a purpose. There was certainly evidence of other people breaking in — beer bottles and used condoms. Other than that, it was like walking through a snapshot of history.”
When she falls silent, I squeeze her hand, offering my reassurance that everything will be okay. That no matter what she tells me, I won’t think any differently of her.
“For those few minutes we explored the house, I felt…free. Like I could spread my wings and fly.” She shifts her gaze to mine. “Like I do whenever I’m with you.”
I smile, but don’t say anything, giving her the time she needs to work this all out for herself.
“I don’t know what came over me. I didn’t feel like myself. Within that house, I wasn’t who I was. He wasn’t who he was. So when we reached the bedroom…” She pauses, drawing in a quivering breath, briefly squeezing her eyes shut. “I kissed him.”
I blink, processing this, unsure how to react to her admission. I put myself in her shoes, try to imagine how I would feel if I was more or less forced into marrying someone I didn’t love. Normally, I would say there’s no excuse for being unfaithful, but she weaves a compelling story. To feel so lonely that you cling to the first person who shows a modicum of interest? I can’t help but sympathize with her.
“I never should have kissed him,” she mutters, her voice barely audible.
“What happened next?” I press, swallowing hard, my stomach heavy with dread.
“I tore away, finally snapping out of whatever spell the house had cast, realizing what I’d done. I tried to apologize, tell him it was a mistake, and walk away.” Her chin trembles, tears now cascading freely down her cheeks. “But he wouldn’t let me.”
I bite the inside of my cheek, squeezing her hand tighter, much like she did to mine on the Ferris wheel. I need her to ground me when I feel like I’m being torn apart. I can only imagine how Londyn must feel to relive this.
“You don’t have to tell me anything else. It’s okay.”
“I do, Wes,” she insists. “I’ve kept it all inside for so long now, and I am just fucking exhausted from it all.”
I inhale several deep breaths through my nose, then nod subtly, indicating for her to go on, even though I’m not sure I’m ready to hear what comes next.
“He had me on my stomach on the hardwood floor. The entire time, he said he wasn’t doing anything I didn’t want. And for the life of me, I don’t remember telling him no. I can remember all the other details about that moment. The chip on the baseboard I stared at the entire time. The leather and citrus scent of his cologne. A dog barking from down the street. But I can’t remember ever telling him he was wrong. That it wasn’t what I wanted. It was then that I finally understood how Echo felt.”
“Echo?”
“It was a story from Greek mythology Jay told me. Echo was a nymph Zeus often consorted with. When his wife, Hera, grew suspicious, she came down from Mount Olympus to catch him in the act. But Echo protected Zeus, as he’d ordered her to do. In response, Hera cursed Echo, took away her ability to speak anything other than the last words spoken to her. She became just an echo, unable to speak her true thoughts or feelings.”
“And what were the last words spoken to you?” I manage to ask.