Read Never Eighteen for Free Online

so?" She pauses shortly, then says, "I'm a ghost, Austin, nothing more than a ghost."
    "You haven't exactly made yourself approachable lately. Plus, that's not what I'm talking about. I mean, they miss the old Allie, that Allie you used to be, before, well, you know," I say.
    She looks right through me. "That Allie doesn't exist anymore, Austin. That Allie is dead."
    "She doesn't have to be," I say.
    "Yes, she does. She belongs in a cold, dark place. This is where she lives now." She points to her head. "Up here, in an unmarked grave."
    "Dig her back out," I say. She ignores me. More awkward silence, I'm struggling for the right words to make her see. "It could have happened to anyone," I blurt out.
    "But it didn't happen to anyone, Austin. It happened to me."
    "Do you want to talk about it?"
    "No." She becomes visibly frustrated.
    "Have you ever talked about it?"
    "No." Now she gets angry.
    "I think you should," I suggest.
    Allie rises from the couch and yells, "No! No one wants to hear that story, Austin. What? Do you think this is some kind of fairy tale? This isn't a fairy tale. It's a nightmare. My nightmare. I think you should mind your own damn business! What the fuck?"
    "I just want to help."
    "You want to help? Give me a lobotomy so I don't remember. Put a gun to my head and pull the trigger. Please! I've wanted to a million times—I'm just too chicken to do it." She begins to cry as she collapses back onto the couch.
    Her body trembles. She looks so fragile, so bony, like she could be easily broken. She cries, "It's just been so hard. My dad, he ignores me as if I don't even exist. When I try to talk to my mom, she shushes me and tells me I just need to get over it and on with my life. They don't even care! They see me as a disgrace, damaged goods, a stain on their picture-perfect family."
    "I'm sure they don't," I try.
    "Yes, they do!" she screams, eyes wild with turmoil, chest heaving with what must be painful gasps. She continues until her body tires, slows, comes to a stop.
    "It was broad daylight," she begins her story. "Broad fucking daylight," she repeats. "I can't believe nobody saw, nobody heard anything. He snuck up behind me, scared the shit out of me. I'm sure I must have screamed, but now the memory's so fuzzy, I don't know if I'm remembering it right. I was walking down to the Circle K to buy some candy, like I did every Friday after school."
    "I remember. You always had a major sweet tooth," I say.
    She looks over at me as if she had forgotten that I was there. She continues. "Yeah, I loved it all, chocolate, gummies, caramel, Nerds, Starbursts, Skittles. I'd always come home with a huge bag, enough for the entire weekend. Enough to share with you guys." She looks at me with disgust, as if she's casting blame, though I know she holds the expression for the memory, not for me.
    "He forced me into the bushes, where the old folks' community is now. I can't believe how fast that place went up." Her eyes drift for a moment as if lost in thought; then she comes back. "He pulled me in there and threw me down onto the fucking ground, right on top of the sticker bushes. He put a hand over my mouth, the other held a knife to my throat. He said if I did what he wanted he wouldn't kill me. I just nodded like an idiot; I didn't even try to fight back. I was such a chicken."
    "No, you weren't. You were scared," I say.
    She glares at me, eyes still crazed. "Yes, I was. I should have fought him off or I should have died trying," she says, almost in a whisper.
    "I stumbled home. There was so much blood. It got on my shoes. I loved those goddamn shoes; they were ruined."
    "I'm so sorry, Allie."
    "I tried to get back to normal after that, remember? Tried to hang, tried to forget. You tried to help, and Kaylee, I know. Don't think I didn't notice. But it was too much. Sometimes I wish he would have just killed me." Tears again fall. "And that's not all," she goes on. Although this is exactly what I have come here for,