Chapter 4

Matt finally made it home around 7 PM. His mother was frantic. All he wanted was to just take a bath and crawl into bed. As soon as she saw him, his face swollen and covered with blood and dirt, his shirt ripped and equally dirty, she just gasped and covered her mouth with her hand. She took him in her arms, crying, "What happened? Who did this to you?"

Matt refused to tell her, finally just refusing to answer her questions at all. He burst into tears though when his mom mentioned Jen's name.

His mother was furious. She knew that somehow that girl had caused this damage to her son. She threatened to call the police, but Matt freaked out at that. She wanted to talk to the girl. Matt wouldn't give her her phone number. She looked her up in the school directory, and upon finding her address she stormed over there, dragging a protesting and crying Matt with her. He couldn't face her, but he wasn't about to leave his mom alone with her.

Some girl (wasn't her name Melissa? Matt wondered) answered the door, staring at him. She said Jen was in the pool. Now? he wondered.

She led them out to the backyard. There were two more people there, plus there was a guy in the pool with her. He saw them coming and stared at them, while she was still underwater. Matt stared at her white silhouette as she raced underwater, diving for something apparently. The pool was lit. The guy called her name right as she came up, gasping for air and laughing as she threw a penny at the guy. He said something to her and she turned to look at them, both standing by the pool on the wet concrete.

Her smile faded as she stared at Matt. He couldn't meet her gaze. He was petrified besides, of what was going to come of this. Was Ryan really going to kill him? He hated him, that's for sure. She slowly came to the pool's edge, her eyes glued on Matt. She climbed out of the pool, her hip dragging along the concrete edge, sliding one side of her bikini bottom down.

Matt felt ashamed as he stared at her, at her body. It was so perfect. He flushed in the cool night air as his dick stiffened up a little. She just kept staring at him, walking toward him. She stood in front of him, and her hand went to her mouth the same way his mom's had. Her eyes filled with tears and her face crumpled up as she looked at him.

Matt's face was completely swollen. His eyes were nearly swelled shut, both a dark purple color. Dried blood trickled from his nose, his left eyebrow, one ear, his mouth, and one eye. The blood vessels in that eye had been damaged so much the white of the eye was a crimson color. His neck was bruised and the rest of him was covered with blood as well.

His head ached. His lips felt huge, swollen and clumsy.

His mother was taken aback by the girl's reaction to her son's appearance. She had thought that she had something to do with it but now realized she hadn't.

Matt just looked down, he couldn't meet her pitying look anymore. He stared at her breasts, remembering when he had kissed them and...

"Ryan did this to you?" she whispered, one wet hand reaching for Matt's shoulder. Matt said nothing, his mind spinning from her touch. She asked again, but wasn't really asking, "Did Ryan do this to you?"

Somehow, they all went inside. She got into a terry cloth robe. She kept crying and finally sobbed over and over about how it was all her fault.

"No, it's not," Matt insisted.

His mom got angry then. "Did you have him do this to my son? How could you do this?" she screamed.

That guy who had been in the pool with her (Matt didn't know him but had hated him instantly) got mad at his mom, defending her. "Don't accuse her of that! She didn't do anything."

"Well, it seems to me she did plenty!" his mom shot back.

"Oh yeah well, maybe if he'd kept his mouth shut Ryan never would've hear about it in the first place."

"Does that make it okay?" she demanded.

"No, but he still would've been a lot better off if hadn't gone bragging to everyone about what they did!" he pointed out.

Still dripping wet, Jen led Matt out of the kitchen and into her room. She didn't want to hear anymore of this, she just needed to be away from all of it. She felt so bad for him. It was her fault. His mom didn't even notice they'd left, not facing them.

"Well, how do you know she didn't tell the guy?" she asked.

"Oh, like she even talks to Ryan anymore!"

"I'm going to call the police. First of all, she completely took advantage of him and he's a minor. Doesn't she know there are laws against that?"

"Oh yeah well so's she. He's 15 right? And she's 17. Last I checked that makes him a rapist."

His mom didn't answer him. Instead, she noticed they were gone. "Where'd they go?" she demanded.

"Leave them alone. They need to talk." said Melissa.

She led him into her bathroom. He couldn't believe he was actually here with her. Was she still mad at him? Did she hate him? Ryan had said so. Maybe they had gotten back together...

Sitting him down on the toilet, she went to work on him. She cleaned his face with a warm face cloth, washing off the blood and dirt. He just stared at her, shaking from her touch. He couldn't think of anything to say at all, only winced when she started putting antiseptic on his cuts.

"It's gonna hurt a little... " she said, dabbing his eyebrow with cotton as he winced in pain. She held his face in her hands, his eyes staring up at her. She felt an overwhelming desire to kiss him, then angered at herself for thinking it. All the while she fought back more tears as she looked at his miserable appearance.

She looked at him for a second, looked at his filthy t-shirt. She disappeared for a second while he looked around at her bathroom. It was very neat. She returned with a white t-shirt, clean and folded. She handed it to him with a shy smile, saying,

"This is yours I think... "

He recognized it as his white undershirt that he left at her house by accident that night. She was still looking at him. Was she pitying him? She must think I'm such a wimp, he thought. At least not as tough as Ryan. That was obvious enough.

He realized that she was waiting for him to put it on. He wasn't ashamed of his body, he worked out and was much more developed than most other freshman. He peeled off his sweaty shirt, wincing from the pain as he lifted his arms above his head. He was going to put the shirt on but she told him to wait, getting another rag soapy and wet.

Bare-chested in front of her, he tried to look as hard and cut as possible. She rung the washcloth out and approached him.

Both realized the awkwardness of the situation as she bathed his upper body. They tried to get the memory of when she had done so much more for him out of their minds, especially Matt, who felt a familiar tingle in his groin from her touch on his bare chest. She wouldn't look him in the eye. She cleaned off his elbow, which had been cut by some stick when he'd been pinned to the ground. She touched it up with antiseptic, her soft hand on his shoulder. What was she going to do? he wondered. Just clean him up? Was she gonna talk to him then?

She peered in at several discolorations on his chest. She reached for a particularly large one and applied a little pressure, and sure enough he flinched. She moved so she was no longer blocking the light and gasped. His entire upper body was covered with bruises that were just beginning to welt. She wondered if he had a few broken ribs--it certainly looked possible.

"Oh, Matt," she whispered finally. "I'm so sorry... " She started to sob, wrapping her arms lightly around his shoulders so as not to hurt him. Ryan had beat him so severely. She rubbed his back for a second but stopped immediately. "I'm so sorry, I'm so sorry... " she cried into his shoulders, still sitting on the edge of the bathtub. "I'm such a bitch... I hate him... I fucking hate him... It's all my fault... I hate myself... I'm such a bitch... I'm sorry... "

Half of him tried to hate her, wanting to push her away and tell her she was right. But the other half was leaping for joy, his heart racing, that she was in his arms, the girl he dreamt about night after night. It wasn't a contest between those two halves.

"No, don't say that," he whispered into her ear. "Please don't say that. It's my fault, it's my fault. I was wrong, not you."

"Wrong?" she pulled away from him, her cheeks wet with tears. "What did you do? You didn't do anything. It was Ryan, not you."

He fought back tears, his heart nearly breaking with the guilt and self-loathing he had felt since earlier this evening when he'd first heard the words. Rapist.

"Well, you were drunk. And I shouldn't have told everybody. You were drunk you know what that makes me? A fucking rapist. You can have me arrested you know. I wouldn't blame you. I'm trash, scum," he muttered.

"Oh, Matt," she snapped. "That's ridiculous. Why would you think you're a rapist? Did I protest?" she asked pointedly.

"No," he admitted, nearly laughing from the way she asked him and the memory of her dragging him onto her bed.

"Don't give me that alcohol bullshit. I knew what I was doing--you did not, I repeat, did not rape me."

He thought about it. She leaned forward to look him in the eyes.

"Why would you think you raped me?" she asked him quietly, already having an idea.