Free Scarred by J. S. Cooper Page A

cold flushes running through my body. What if he tried to attack me or, worse still, rape me?
    I lay my head down and counted to ten as my heart raced. I tried to regulate my breathing and forget what it had felt like all those nights ago. I was a survivor. I was a survivor. I had to remember that. He hadn’t raped me. I was okay. I was okay. And I was okay now. Nothing was going to happen to me. The strange guy with the slightly familiar voice wasn’t going to do anything t o me. He wasn’t a serial killer; he wasn’t a rapist. I bit my lip. I shouldn’t have come here by myself. Luke would kill me if he knew I had come by myself, he acted like he was my dad or very over protective brother. I know I gave him grief for it, but I loved him for it. I felt sadness that I had come here without him; I could do with his warm and comforting shoulder right now.
    I heard the guy blowing his nose and I felt my heart go out to him. I could tell that he was trying to be as quiet as possible. He most probably didn’t want me to hear him crying. I felt uncomfortable just sitting there—like I was a bad person—but I honestly didn’t know what to do. He hadn’t wanted to talk to me, so I doubted that he wanted me to come over and comfort him. Yet, there had been something in the way that he had spoken that had set my stomach aglow. He had a warm, deep lilt to his voice that was comforting, even though he wasn’t being particularly nice.
    “Are you okay?” I whispered. I couldn’t stop myself. I felt like I would be a bad person if I didn’t even attempt to try to help. The night fell even more silent. I knew that he had heard me, but he didn’t respond. I contemplated my next move. When I was younger, I had read a story from the bible about a Good Samaritan and we had sung a song in school that asked, “Would you walk by on the other side?” about people in different situations. I didn’t want to be the person who could have helped someone but didn’t. “I’m here to listen if you need someone.” My words carried through the night, seeming to echo in my ears over and over again.
    “Tha nks, but I’m fine,” he answered, slowly, as if he were trying to catch his breath.
    “I doubt that , but I understand. I tell my best friends that I am okay as well, but I’m not.” I sighed as I spoke. “I have soo many secrets from soo many people, that sometimes it feels as if I’m going to explode. I can barely keep up.”
    “That does sound like a predicament.” His voice held amusement in it. “You’re not going to stop talking are you?”
    “I can if you want?” I paused and waited for his answer. He took about a minute to reply. It seemed liked the longest minute of my life.
    “You know, I was going to say no, I don’t want. But I think, I think I’d like you to continue. It helps to get my mind off of things.” He laughed ironically. “I came here to be alone , but it seems as if that wasn’t to be tonight.”
    “I come here to be alone as well.”
    “I’ve never encountered anyone here before.”
    “Me neither.”
    “H ow long have you been coming?” we both asked, at the same time, and we both laughed. He had a nice laugh, smooth, deep and full. He wasn’t faking a chuckle but letting out a real emotion.
    “I’ve been coming for about ten years, since I was thirteen.” he said and my heart quickened. He was close to my age. And, if he was from Jonesville, it was likely that I knew him.
    “I’ve been coming for six years, since I was sixteen.” I spoke slowly, wondering if he was going to come to the same conclusion as me, that perhaps we knew each other.
    “Oh, int eresting.” He paused. “You’re twenty-two?”
    “Yeah.”
    “From Jonesville?”
    “Yeah. You?”
    “I’m from Jonesville as well.” He paused. “I’m twenty-three.”
    We were both silent for a while. I knew he wa s thinking what I was thinking—did we really want to reveal ourselves? It was kinda cool sitting here