It Happened Last Year

For hours I find myself unable to get even a minute of sleep. I simply lay in bed, turn on my side, turn on my stomach, switch the direction my head is in, turn on my other side, then flip back onto my back. Nearly reaching a point of insanity, I glance at the clock-it reads 2:06-then I get up from the bed and wander down the stairs.

Expecting everyone to be asleep, I quietly sneak into the kitchen to search the fridge and pantry for anything to drink or eat. Maybe I am thirsty or hungry. Maybe I am too tired to think properly.

The fridge light burns my eyes, causing me to squint. My hands rummage around, sliding jars of jam and bottles of water from one side to the other as if something wonderful is behind them. After discovering nothing sugary-sweet, I grab a bottle of water and sit on top of the counter. I feel the chilled liquid rush down my throat, into my body as I take a gulp. Should I be sitting on the counter? Too tired to move, I rebel and stay seated, kicking my feet gently.

“Thirsty?”

My heart jolts and my eyes shoot up. Daniel. Standing. Hallway. My heart races as I try to recover from a possible heart attack. I place the bottle down beside me and take a few deep breaths. “You scared me,” I whisper in a loud way.

“I know,” he says in a normal volume. “Are you always up at two in the morning?”

I watch him as he opens the fridge, his eyes scanning around. “No, and there’s nothing to eat. Well, unless you want a spoonful of strawberry jam.”

Daniel also grabs a bottle of water, taking my advice on ditching the jam. He leans against the counter across from me, and I struggle to find something interesting to stay. “Are you always up at two in the morning?” I steal his question.

“Yeah. I’m not a very good sleeper,” he mutters before taking a drink of water.

I nod. “I used to wake up at least seven times a night. Even when I was sleeping, it felt like an hour was only a few seconds.”

Daniel watches me. He’s probably wondering why I shared such a weird thing, and why I thought he would care enough to listen. “Was it because of this secret thing you did?” He asks, surprising me.

“You assume only one thing happened,” I murmur, “what if I’ve done many horrible, secret things?”

“Then that would make you normal,” he says.

I glance off to the side. If being attacked and having a relationship with a teacher is normal, then this world is much darker than I thought. I have done things and things have been done to me, yet for some reason, Daniel believes in only the one. I suppose I’ve contributed to that belief, though.

“So you’ve done many horrible, secret things too, then?”

Daniel nods, his arms crossed, one hand still holding his water bottle.

For some unknown reason-probably because of my extreme lack of sleep, I say, “tell me one.”

Daniel raises an eyebrow, then takes a sip. My heart squeezes from the nervous feeling rushing throughout my body. Why on earth would Daniel tell-

“Alright, but you’ll have to tell me one of your secrets then.”

I swallow. “You first.”

I cannot accurately describe the number of thoughts whirling around in my head. The main being: Are you really going to tell him one of your secrets?

Daniel agrees to this. “I used to work for a bad guy. He hired me to collect money from people who owed him. If they didn’t have the money, I would beat the shit out of them.”

Not expecting that, I stay quiet for a moment. “Why did you do it? For the money?”

Daniel shakes his head. “It gave me something to take my anger out on. I stopped a few months ago.” Everything he says sounds relaxed, smooth, slow. Even something so dark sounds justifiable. “Now, your secret.”

I know which one I am going to tell him, but after hearing his, I feel nervous. I just have to say it, maybe it will make me feel better, to share. “I, um, I made my teacher fall in love with me to the point where he wanted to run away with me and abandon his wife.”

Daniel seems slightly amused. “You’re kidding?”

Regretting everything, I shake my head.

“Hailey, you’re wearing matching polka dot pajamas. You’re telling me you seduced a grown man?”

Something about this makes us sound familiar with each other. He said my name, questioned me, described my pajamas. “I didn’t-it was an accident.”

“You slept with him?”This is the property of Nô-velDrama.Org.

My cheeks flush red. “No! Of course not.”

Hopefully, I didn’t wake anyone up as hearing our conversation from this point may sound crazy.

“Then how did you do it?” He questions.

My hot cheeks cooling down, I murmur, “I don’t know. He was a hopeless romantic, I guess. You ask a lot of questions.”

“You don’t ask enough.”

I stare at him. “So this guy, what did he do?”

Daniel shrugs. “No idea.”

Somewhat embarrassed by my confession, I return to my bedroom after telling Daniel a very casual and generic ‘goodnight.’ The clock reads 2:47 now.

I climb into bed, placing my water bottle on the table beside me. It now just hits me, and it hits me like a truck. I told Daniel Todd one of my secrets, a secret that no one else knows. At least the other is spread around as a rumor, but this one, this one was just for me. He knows about Mr. Russ, no one knows about Mr. Russ besides me and Mr. Russ. What if he tells people? Will they think I’m some-some slut? Isn’t that too much of a teenage girls problem? I’m not at that stage yet.

First, they’ll know about Harrison, thinking I’m an attention whore, and now they’re going to know that I was romantically involved with a teacher, thinking I’m a slut. I cannot be a slut and a whore, I don’t even know the difference.

I didn’t realize how much being a teenage girl sucked.