56 The Meadow Survivor Jessica Jeanette “It’s your life, you can do as you please.” Brandon looks at me just as our co-worker drops a glass jar candle. Of course, it shatters, almost as fast as the jar hit the floor. “Shit,” escapes Brandon’s mouth. Brandon and I look at one another then to our coworker who shrugs and then walks away, typical. We both bend down to pick up the pieces. Brandon looks at me, his dirty blonde hair falls into his face. “I am being serious, Jess. Come on.” Brandon’s voice becomes muddled in my mind. I’ve heard this sentence before. Four months ago, when I was trapped in the car with someone else, he pleaded with me, “Come on. Just do it. I’m being serious. Just say yes.” I remember the aftermath perfectly, sitting in my car alone, with tears streaming. My car engine had settled into a low hum filling the silence. I bought that car three days before that all happened. In the backseat, the chairs leaned backwards. The passenger seat slid so far forward it met the dashboard. When I closed my eyes, I could still feel him on top of me. His shoulder shoved up against my mouth and one hand pinning my leg down so hard, his handprint remained bruised into my thigh for a week. I learned in that moment, don’t close my eyes unless I have to. He’s always there. The car stopped being new. He decided he could have everything. I heard that you can only forgive yourself that you don’t need forgiveness from others. Will he find forgiveness inside of himself the way he found satisfaction inside of me? Satisfaction in trade of everything I had. I smashed my hands as hard as I could into the steering wheel hoping the smell of his skin would disappear off of mine. “Jess! Hey! You’re bleeding!” I snap back. Brandon looks at me, his eyebrows furrowed together and his eyes glisten. He looks as if he fears I might break in front of him. I must’ve cut my hand because when I look down, I see my blood starting to mix with the white candle wax on the floor.
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