Thirty Seconds Ago

Thirty seconds ago, Bryn was as normal as any twelve-year-old girl could be – that is to say, wacky, fun-loving, and blissfully odd. She ran with her best friend through the girl’s backyard, neither knowing the events to come. All that mattered to them was the present. Life was beautiful. Thirty seconds ago, this was true for both of them.

Two hours ago, Bryn and Riley played tag at Riley’s home on the corner of Aspen and Howard Street. It was little more than a small yellow house, faded with age and neglect, and an unkempt yard made nearly unusable by the leech field out front. Bryn wouldn’t let that ruin their fun, though. She was invincible, in her mind. She chased Riley around the sump pump, up and down the mound made by the septic tank, and around the perimeter of the house. “Tag, you’re it!” Innocent laughter erupted from them as Bryn made contact with Riley’s arm. It was Bryn’s turn to flee.

One hour ago, a car pulled into the driveway. Bryn didn’t recognize the vehicle. It was a tan jalopy, the kind she imagined ran solely on duct tape and prayer. Riley’s father emerged from the house and greeted the strangers in the driveway. A man with grungy gray skin and dirty eyes stepped out from the driver’s side of the car. From the passenger’s side, a young boy emerged. His skin had more life to it than the man’s, but their eyes were the same. The man introduced himself as Dean Morgenthal and the boy as his son Ian. Mr. Morgenthal urged Ian to go play with the girls while he and Riley’s father had a chat inside.

Forty-five minutes ago, Bryn, Riley, and Ian ran around outside the way children often do. They were not expecting a new friend, but they welcomed him regardless. Tag was always better with more players anyway. What a thrill it was! Ian chatted away the whole time. How he managed to continue talking while chasing them at full speed was beyond her.

Forty minutes ago, Ian grinned a crooked smirk at Bryn. He mumbled to himself and laughed, a joke she didn’t understand. Riley heard, too. Her face flushed red. The boy had to go inside to use the restroom, offering a brief reprieve. Riley approached Bryn and asked if she wanted to go for a bike ride, but Bryn protested, not wanting to leave Ian behind. They debated, ultimately deciding biking would be fun. Ian was fast – he could catch up.

Thirty-five minutes ago, Ian came back out of the house ready to play. Bryn and Riley were already making their way down the street. Ian sprinted to catch up and approached from behind. Bryn peeked over her shoulder. Their new friend! She smiled at him, glad he wasn’t left out.

Twenty minutes ago, the three kids meandered down the road. Ian followed close behind, never allowing the gap between them to grow too great. He told more jokes, laughing louder every time. Bryn chuckled along, even though she didn’t know what they meant. Riley was avoiding Ian by then. Why though? Sure, his jokes were weird, and maybe his constant chatter was getting a bit obnoxious, but he just wanted friends.

Fifteen minutes ago, the girls were tired of biking. They parked back in the driveway and threw off their helmets. Ian still had all his energy. It seemed he had somehow gained energy in that time.

Ten minutes ago, Ian continued cracking his jokes. Bryn began to understand them, and she shuddered.

Five minutes ago, they returned to tag. Here they were, three kids having fun together. Riley didn’t seem as convinced. Ian was “it” now. The girls ran together, joking about how they would escape him.

Three minutes ago, Bryn fell back as she ran, a firm grip on her wrist. Ian laughed as she tore her arm back. “You’re it!” he cackled.

Two minutes ago, everything seemed alright.

One minute ago, Riley wanted to go inside. Bryn followed her, and Ian followed Bryn.

Thirty seconds ago, Bryn forgot her discomfort around the strange boy. Out of breath and ready for a break, she stepped up onto the back patio.

Ten seconds ago, Ian was catching up.

One second ago, Bryn opened the door.

She doesn’t notice the footsteps growing louder until he is already on top of her. His arms wrap around her shoulders, their feet intertwined. Bryn tries to wriggle free but cannot. She feels his groin grinding on her legs. Nothing is real. She twists and squirms and pushes him back before retreating inside, shutting the door, and collapsing next to her friend.

Thirty seconds ago, she felt sympathy for the boy.

Thirty seconds later, she feels nothing.

Five months later, Bryn sits alone in her bedroom. Pink walls she painted with her mom back when the biggest worry she had to face was figuring out her favorite color. She holds a bottle of iron supplements in one hand and a pencil in the other. In her lap is a notebook. No words can accurately capture her pain. She says a prayer, unscripted for the first time. “I don’t want to die, but I don’t want to live like this.”

Two years later, Bryn’s boyfriend leads her upstairs to his bedroom. Her heart is racing, but not in the excitement she wishes it was. He puts on a movie and lays his arm around her. Can’t breathe. Leg bouncing. Hands shaking. He kisses her cheek, and she bursts into years’ worth of tears. “What’s wrong?” He asks with a mix of care and concern in his voice. Bryn no longer recognized those emotions. She has two options: share her heart with him, or close herself off forever. She chooses the latter.

Three years later, Bryn still can’t return her parents’ hugs.

Five years later, all physical contact burns her skin.

Nine years later, she wonders if she will ever feel safe again.