BLACKOUT

  Copyright © 2020 by Olivia Evans

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law.

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  Editor- Lisa A. Hollett Silently Correcting Your Grammar, LLC

  Cover Design - Jada D'Lee Designs

  Interior Design and Formatting - Lindsey Gray Formatting

  Title

  Copyright

  Dedication

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Epilogue

  Acknowledgments

  About the Author

  For all the survivors out there. You’re not alone.

  A scream pierced the silence, snatching me from sleep. It only took me a moment to realize I was the source of the earsplitting sound. I fell back onto the mattress, tears of frustration leaking from my eyes and beads of sweat sliding into my hairline. It was the same dream I’d had for two months, and just like the others, I never saw his face. I’d tried so hard to retrieve my memories, but it was a blank canvas with only patches of imagery. No one at the party remembered the mystery guy who had turned my world upside down, just their friends and other familiar faces. I sometimes wondered if I’d made him a mystery on purpose so I wouldn’t see the face of someone I knew raping me.

  A soft knock echoed in the silence of my room. I sat up and wiped the tears from my cheeks. “Come in.”

  My roommate Ethan peeked around the door and smiled. “I didn’t know you were still here. Are you okay?”

  I shrugged and gave him a slight nod. “Yeah. I guess.”

  Ethan walked into the room and slid into bed beside me. He wrapped his arm around my shoulders and pulled me against his chest. For the longest time, he didn’t speak, just held me close. I didn’t know what I would have done without him and Krista, my other roommate and best friend, the last couple months. If it weren’t for the two of them, I probably would have ended up in a straitjacket.

  “You know I’m not trying to press, but I really think you should talk to someone. I know you don’t want to, but what you’re doing isn’t working, and you know it.”

  I looked into his deep brown eyes swirling with concern. Pushing off his chest, I swiped at the messy dark hair hanging over his forehead and sighed. “I know. I just don’t think I can do it. What do I say? ‘Hey, I’m pretty sure I was raped, but I can’t be certain because I don’t remember. #MeToo’? I’ll look like a fool.”

  “That’s not true, and you know it. You’re just scared. And as much as I’d like to think I could be your knight in shining armor, I don’t know anything about what you’re going through. I’m happy to sit here in silence with you for as long as you want, but eventually, you’re going to have to deal with what happened.”

  I gave him a watery smile and thought about how lucky I was to have him in my life. We’d met a few years earlier at Krista’s family reunion. He was her cousin and Bailey’s brother, our old roommate. When she’d moved out of state for grad school, he’d been happy to take her place. We were both grateful, even though things had been a little weird in the beginning since he’d had a bit of a crush on me.

  “You’re also potentially going to have to look for another job. Because you’re late. Again,” he said, pulling me from my thoughts.

  “Shit! Why didn’t you tell me? I’m going to get fired from a job I just started.” I jumped out of bed and darted around the room, snatching clothes from drawers and hangers and throwing them on, forgetting all about Ethan.

  “I’ll just pour you some coffee.” Ethan coughed, averting his gaze as he slipped out of the room.

  I stood in front of the mirror, staring at the puffy, dark circles under my eyes and how my long brown hair was flat and dirty. I didn’t have time to deal with either. Twisting my hair into a bun and slapping moisturizer on my face, I stumbled down the hall while pulling on my shoes before grabbing the coffee from Ethan’s hand and running out of our apartment building in Midtown Atlanta. The three blocks to my job were miserable; the temperature was almost ninety, and it wasn’t even noon.

  Cool air blasted across my skin as I walked into the building of Ivory Advertising. My heels clicked against the expensive marble tiles, and I smiled at people as I passed, ignoring some of the stranger looks I received. Inside the elevator, I took a moment to look myself over again, and what I saw made me want to cry. I was a complete wreck. My usually bright amber eyes were sunken and lifeless and my bronzed complexion appeared ghostly. I cringed and looked away. So many of my professors from Georgia Tech had called in favors to help me get an entry-level job with the firm, and I was going to blow it before I even had a chance to prove myself.

  The elevator dinged, and I stepped into the open space lined with cubicles. I dropped my gaze and turned toward my desk, praying I would go unnoticed. But I never had a chance.

  “Lonna?” I turned at the sound of my boss Katherine’s voice. She stood with her brows knitted together, trailing her eyes over my disheveled appearance. “Did you just get here?”

  I bit my lip and fought back tears. “Yes, ma’am.”

  Katherine sighed and motioned for me to move to the wall, away from prying ears. When we were out of earshot of everyone else, Katherine leaned forward. “Are you sick?”

  I considered lying. I’d lost weight and looked like complete shit. Pretending to be sick wouldn’t have been a stretch. As much as I didn’t want to be fired, however, I also didn’t want to lie. Before I finished contemplating my answer, Katherine spoke. “Listen, I don’t know what’s going on with you, but this can’t continue. You’ve only been here six weeks, and you’ve been late at least twice a week. On top of that, you’re behind on two of your projects coming due in a month.”

  This time, I couldn’t stop the tears from forming. “I know. I’m sorry. I’m—” I didn’t know how to finish my sentence. I’m a wreck? I was raped, or at least I think I was, and I don’t know how to deal with it? I might as well line up for unemployment now.

  “You came highly recommended from people I have a great deal of respect for. Clearly, you are dealing with something, but this is a business first.” Katherine looked at her phone and sighed. “Look, it’s Wednesday. Go home. Rest. Meditate. Do whatever you need to do to get your head straight. Then come back Monday, on time and ready to work. Understood?”

  I nodded and hugged my arms around my waist. “Thank you.” With a dip of her chin, Katherine turned on her heel and disappeared between the rows of cubicles. Outside the building, I stood in the muggy air with absolutely no idea where to go or what to do. So, I just started walking.
I couldn’t focus, my mind jumping from one scenario to another. How on earth was I supposed to fix myself in a matter of days when I’d done nothing to help myself in the last two months?

  I walked through Piedmont Park, letting the sweat seep from my pores and into the thin material of my blouse. It wasn’t until my heart started racing and I realized just how sore my feet had become that I looked at the time. Several hours had passed, and I couldn’t recall more than a few moments. Stopping in front of a small diner, I looked around. Nothing seemed familiar, but that might have been a side effect of too much sun and not enough food. I glanced at the neon sign hanging over the door of the restaurant that read Lucky’s Diner, Where Every Meal’s a Winner. My lips turned up in a sardonic smile as I pulled open the door. I could use a little luck.

  An old-fashioned bell rang overhead as I stepped inside. It smelled of grease, baked goods, and comfort. Red vinyl booths lined the walls, and shiny chrome tables gleamed in the streaming sunlight. A bar with a matching countertop and red-and-white vinyl barstools ran the length of the wall, ending at a giant case filled with desserts.

  “Welcome to Lucky’s,” an older woman said, her bright red lips stretched into a wide smile. “Just have a seat anywhere, honey. I’ll be right over to take your order.”

  I did as I was told, choosing the booth in the back by the old jukebox. I didn’t realize those things still existed. Grabbing a menu, I looked over the options, my stomach rumbling louder and my mouth watering as I looked at the pictures of thick burgers, fries, and enormous slices of cake.

  “See anything that looks good?” the older woman asked. Her name tag read Pearl. I smiled to myself. It couldn’t have been a more perfect name for the woman with bright white hair and a smile to match. She almost seemed to glow with happiness. Or maybe it was the grease from the kitchen. Whatever it was, it worked. “Ma’am?”

  I started from my mental ramblings and gave Pearl an embarrassed smile. “Sorry. Yes. Can I have a cheeseburger with an order of fries and a slice of whatever this is?” I asked, pointing to the picture of a triple-layer chocolate cake.

  Pearl laughed. “Goodness, child. Where on earth do you plan on putting all that?”

  I looked down at my thin frame and frowned. I really had lost too much weight. “I’ll sit here until you close if I have to, but I’m eating all of it.”

  “That’s the spirit!” Pearl cheered. “I’ll put your order in and grab a glass of water. If you want anything else, you let me know.”

  Pearl disappeared into the kitchen, leaving me alone with my thoughts once more. I felt completely helpless and unsure. I didn’t want to see a therapist, that much I knew. With a therapist, I would have to talk, and talking was the last thing I wanted to do. But I had to do something. I dropped my head into my hands and let out a frustrated groan. I just wanted to forget. It wasn’t enough that I had no memory of the actual encounter; I knew something happened, and that ate away at me night and day. In a daze, I didn’t even realize my food was on the table until Pearl’s voice broke my reverie.

  “Can I get you anything else?”

  I looked over the mass of food on the table, my eyes wide. “Nope. I’m all set for the foreseeable future.”

  “If I can make a suggestion,” Pearl said, her voice low and filled with mischief. “I’d start with the cake. Why not fill up on the best part first then work your way back?” With a wink, Pearl left me to tend to the other customers. I looked from the cake to the burger before picking up my fork and digging into the moist dessert. The first bite caused my eyes to roll back, and the second forced a small moan to slip past my lips. Surely this was heaven.

  Much to my surprise, after devouring the cake, I put a hell of a dent in the burger and fries before throwing in the towel. “I think I’m going to be sick,” I groaned as Pearl cleared the plates with a chuckle.

  “You’ll live. You just need to walk it off.”

  I nodded, even though I couldn’t imagine walking anywhere. Maybe rolling down the sidewalk, but walking seemed out of the question. Before I could complain again, movement across the street caught my eye through the window. A small group of people had gathered in front of the older building. It was mostly women, but a couple of men stood off to the side, smoking cigarettes.

  “What’s going on over there?” I asked as Pearl set down my bill.

  Pearl followed my gaze and hummed. “They’ve started having different types of support group meetings over there. It changes from time to time, so I’m not sure which one it is tonight. But it sure is good for business.”

  I placed my money on the table, including a generous tip for Pearl and stood. “Thanks, Pearl. This was really nice.”

  “You come back and see me anytime, honey. We’ve got a lot of different cakes you can try.”

  “I’ll do that.” I smiled, waving as I stepped onto the sidewalk. The group had disappeared inside the building, and I shuffled my feet, unsure what to do. A part of me wanted to go home, but another part of me, the part that wondered if I’d approached my situation from the wrong angle the whole time, wanted to cross the street.

  “Just go,” I muttered, forcing one foot in front of the other. I stopped by the large glass window of the building. I looked around, afraid someone would see me standing there, before feeling a jolt of annoyance that I was worried about that at all. Bold, black letters were printed on the single sheet of paper hanging on the inside of the glass.

  Monday: 5-6 Alcoholics Anonymous

  Tuesday: 5-6 Domestic Violence Support Group

  Wednesday: 5-6 Sexual Assault Survivors Support Group

  Thursday: 6-7 Narcotics Anonymous

  Friday: 5-6 Alcoholics Anonymous

  Saturday: 4-5 Cancer Support Systems

  Sunday: 4-5 Sexual Assault Survivors Support Group

  I sank my teeth into my lip, and my stomach chruned with anxiety. Of course there was a meeting tonight. I glanced at my watch and let out a heavy exhale. They’d only started a few minutes earlier. Should I go in? Of course, I should. Would I, was the better question. My eyes roamed over the facing of the brick building. It was completely nondescript. There were no flashy signs or any indication, for that matter, the building was even in use, save for the sign in the window and the faint glow of fluorescent bulbs lining the hall inside. I turned to leave, but the memory of my encounter with Katherine earlier caused me to stop. I couldn’t lose everything I’d worked so hard for without even attempting to work through what happened that night. With a resolve that was more fake than real, I yanked open the door and stepped inside.

  The worn linoleum was yellowed with age. The walls, painted a light beige, were mostly bare, with the exception of an old picture that looked as if it had come from a thrift shop. The scent of coffee wafted from down the hall, and as if moving on their own accord, my feet carried me toward the murmur of voices. I lingered outside the open door, terrified to walk into the room. If I did, I’d be admitting to myself and all those in the room that I had been sexually assaulted. Raped. The usual feeling of uncertainty plagued me once again because as much as I knew what happened to be true, the actual events eluded me.

  “Is everyone ready to get started?” a voice asked from inside.

  “Shit,” I whispered, looking from the direction I came and back to the open doorway. “Go. Just go.” With a final breath and shaky steps, I entered the room. I wasn’t sure what I expected to happen when I entered, but it certainly wasn’t what did. The fifteen or so people looked in my direction, only casting a fleeting glance before returning their attention to the woman at the head of the circle. No one spoke to me, beckoned me inside, or asked me to introduce myself. It was almost as if I were invisible. It caused a weight to lift from my shoulders and my heart to slow. I spotted an empty folding chair off to the side and quietly made my way there. I peeked at the woman at the top of the circle who seemed to be in charge, and she offered a warm smile but nothing more.

  “For those of you who
are new here, my name is Melissa. Seven years ago, I survived a sexual assault by my neighbor. After, I spent every day wondering what I could have done to have prevented what happened. Was it the clothes I wore? Was I too friendly? Too flirty? Did I give him some unknown signal that I was interested? I couldn’t get past what happened because I couldn’t seem to figure out what I had done wrong. What part I’d played. It wasn’t until I finally accepted I hadn’t done a damn thing to deserve what happened for me to finally start my path to recovery. It wasn’t easy then, and it isn’t easy now. But we all have to remind ourselves we are not victims. We are survivors. We will overcome. We will persevere. We will be stronger than ever. But we can’t do it alone. I couldn’t. And the fact that each of you is here means you’ve come to that realization as well. There is no judgment in this room. We are not critics, and we are not here to do anything other than lift one another up and create a place of comfort. No one has to share. You don’t have to provide your name. If just being here, just listening, can help even the tiniest bit, then I’ve done my job. Welcome, everyone.”

  Various greetings echoed around the room. I settled into my seat and looked around. The stark white of the concrete walls was so bright that it drew attention to the worn blue Berber carpet, liberally dotted with stains. A folding table sat against the wall, covered with two coffeepots, cups, sugar, creamers, napkins, and an assortment of cookies and donuts. My eyes drifted to the group of people that filled in the circle around me. All but two were women, and they ranged all ages. Some wore name tags, Alice, Meredith, Bat, but the majority seemed more comfortable with anonymity. I understood that feeling all too well.

  “Hi. My name is Bat.”

  I startled and looked at the girl with the strange name. Her pixie-cut hair was pitch black, with bright green streaks scattered throughout. Small silver rings and black studded jewelry lined her ear from top to bottom. I’d never seen that many piercings. Both her brows were also pierced, as well as her nose and lips, on top and bottom. Dark eyeliner rimmed her eyes, and black lipstick painted her lips. A hint of a tattoo peeked from her high-necked shirt collar, but aside from her face and hands, the rest of her body was covered in black clothing.