Forgotten Once, Gone Forever

My hands wouldn’t stop shaking, even as I curled tighter beneath the hospital blanket. Every time I closed my eyes, the memories stormed back like a flood I couldn’t contain—the cruel chuckles, the rough hands, the helplessness pressing down on me until I could barely breathe. I gripped the edge of the sheet, forcing air into my lungs, trying to steady myself. I kept whispering in my head, You’re okay. You’re safe now. But it didn’t feel true.

I was surviving, but I wasn’t really living. I was still alone in this fight.

At some point, exhaustion must have pulled me under. When I opened my eyes again, it wasn’t because of a nightmare—it was because someone was touching me.

Fear shot through my veins like ice. My muscles tensed, and before I could think, I shoved the hand away with every ounce of strength I had.

“Whoa! Rhea, it’s me—it’s just me,” a voice said quickly.

My vision adjusted to the low light, and I saw him standing there—Caleb. His expression was one of confusion and mild concern, as if I’d simply woken up from a bad dream.

“Babe, are you okay? You looked terrified.”

His voice. That voice I used to run to for comfort now made my skin crawl. After everything I had been through—after the night I begged him to help me, sobbing through the phone—and he dismissed me as if I were acting dramatic… How dare he show up now, pretending like nothing had happened?

“What are you doing here?” I asked, my voice cold and raw, laced with disbelief.

He gave me a casual smile and held up a plastic bag. “I just got back. Thought I’d surprise you. Got a few things for you—souvenirs and stuff.”

I turned my back on him without a word, bile rising in my throat. His presence alone felt like poison.

His tone changed, sharp and defensive. “What the hell is your problem? Are you seriously still mad I missed your graduation? You’re being ridiculous.”

I clenched the blanket so hard my knuckles turned white.

“This is about Bianca again, isn’t it?” he added with a huff, already rolling his eyes.

I said nothing, trying to hold myself together.

He groaned and ran a hand through his hair. “Rhea, for God’s sake. She’s a client. A business contact. Why are you always so damn insecure?”

That was it.

I turned to him slowly, my voice trembling with fury. “You think this is about jealousy? About graduation?”

He opened his mouth, but I didn’t let him speak.

“They tied me up, Caleb. They beat me until I couldn’t scream anymore. They laughed while I cried and begged. And where were you?” My voice cracked. “I called you. I begged you.”

His expression flickered, maybe with guilt—maybe just annoyance. I couldn’t tell.

Before he could say anything, his phone buzzed.

He answered immediately. “Bianca?” he said, his voice softening, filled with concern.

Of course.

He listened for a moment, then nodded. “Yeah, I’ll come now. Don’t worry. I’m on my way.”

He ended the call and turned to me with urgency.

“Bianca’s in the hospital,” he said. “She needs me.”

I stared at him, stunned. “And I don’t?” I whispered, barely audible.

“She’s not well,” he said flatly. “You’re strong. You’ll be fine.”

I laughed bitterly, though it came out as a broken sound. “I was attacked. I’m bleeding on the inside, Caleb.”

“She’s like a sister,” he said, exasperated. “Why do you always twist everything? You say you love me—so act like it. Understand that sometimes other people need me too.”

That was the moment something inside me snapped.

“No,” I said, stepping away from him. “Loving you means breaking myself into pieces to make you whole. I’m done.”

I didn’t wait for his reply. I grabbed my phone, my hands still trembling, and stormed out. My feet carried me to the nearest bathroom. I slammed the door shut and collapsed onto the floor, pressing a towel to my face to muffle the sobs that burst from my chest. Tears streamed down my face, hot and endless, soaking the towel as I cried like something inside me had died.

Because maybe it had.

There were no words left to say to Caleb. No strength left to argue, to explain, to beg him to care.

Then my phone buzzed again.

It was my mom.

“Rhea?” she said gently, “I’ve made all the arrangements. Everything’s set. You’re going to Sydney, just like we talked about.”

I wiped at my tears, trying to breathe. “I don’t know if I can go through with it…”

Her voice was soothing but firm. “You have to, honey. You need a fresh start. And you won’t be alone. Jasper will be waiting for you. He’s going to help you settle in.”

“Jasper?” I asked, frowning slightly. The name tugged at a distant part of my memory.

“Your childhood friend. You used to build sandcastles together every summer, remember? He offered to help when I told him what happened. He’s a good man, Rhea. And he’ll look out for you.”

I hesitated. Leaving meant closing a chapter I wasn’t ready to let go of. Not entirely.

“Honey,” she added softly, “the authorities are investigating. We’re going to catch the men who did this to you. You’re not alone in this anymore. They’ll face justice. I promise you.”

Her words cracked something inside me—not from pain this time, but from resolve. I wasn’t just leaving to run away. I was choosing to survive. And more than that—I was choosing to heal.

“Thanks, Mom,” I whispered. “Really.”

As I ended the call, my gaze drifted to the window. Beyond it was the city where I had lost so much—my innocence, my trust, my future with Caleb. But now, I had the chance to start over. A chance to rebuild.

And somewhere deep in my soul, anger began to harden into something stronger—determination.

Caleb hadn’t just ignored me. He had minimized my pain, invalidated my trauma, and walked away when I needed him most. He had made me feel like nothing.

But I wasn’t nothing.

I wasn’t powerless.

I stood up, wiped the last of my tears, and walked out with a newfound clarity. My suitcase waited quietly in the corner. I began packing—deliberately, forcefully. Clothes, documents, pieces of a past I was finally ready to leave behind.

I was leaving in three days.

And when I left, I wouldn’t look back.

Not at Caleb.

Not at the pain.

Not at the shattered girl who once waited for a man who would never choose her.

This time, I was choosing me.