Keeping It Fluid -44

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It's been three months since I got pregnant.

Three months since everything changed.

Three months since Trevor.

Shudder.

Even just thinking his name makes my stomach twist—and not in the morning sickness way. There's this tight, bitter knot that forms in my chest every time he crosses my mind. I hate that he still has that kind of power over me. That he's still part of my story... even now.

I rubbed my hand gently across my stomach, feeling the small curve that had started to show beneath my shirt. It wasn't much, not yet—but it was enough to make everything feel real. More real than I sometimes wanted it to.

Sometimes I looked down and smiled.

Sometimes I cried.

Sometimes I did both at the same time.

I'd come a long way since that night. I'd made decisions I never thought I'd have to make. Faced fears I never thought I'd live through. And I knew there were still more to come. But the one thing I had now, the one thing that mattered, was that I wasn't alone.

I had my family.

I had my friends.

And most of all, I had this little life growing inside me. A life that didn't come from love—but could still be loved.

Even if the memory of Trevor would always haunt the edges of that truth.

And now?

Now he was back in the news.

I overheard Mom talking in the kitchen on the phone. She wasn't trying to be loud, but her voice had that serious edge—the one that made me pause at the top of the stairs and listen.

"...yeah, a little boy," she said. "Five, maybe six? I can't believe anyone left Trevor in charge of a child. What were they thinking?"

I froze.

No.

No way.

She kept going. "No details yet, but it sounds like it happened while he was babysitting. The parents called the police, and now it's going to court."

A heavy silence followed.

Something cold settled in my stomach.

Why would anyone trust him to babysit?

After what he did to me?

After what he was capable of?

I walked slowly back to my room, the air suddenly feeling heavier.

I hadn't told the world what he did to me. Only my family and my closest friends knew. And I still wasn't ready for the world to know.

But part of me wanted to scream.

He's done it before. He's done worse. And he's still out there hurting people.

I sat down on the edge of my bed, hands trembling as I pressed them to my belly.

"I'm so sorry," I whispered to the tiny life growing inside me. "I should've said something sooner. Maybe I could've stopped him from hurting that little boy."

But I knew, deep down, the guilt wasn't mine to carry.

The blame wasn't mine.

It was his.

Only his.

I didn't even realize I was crying until I heard the soft knock on my door.

"Emily?" Mom's voice was quiet.

I quickly wiped my face with my sleeve, but I knew I looked a mess. "Come in."

She stepped in slowly, her expression already full of concern. "I didn't mean for you to overhear that."

"It's okay," I murmured, voice hoarse. "I think I needed to."

Mom sat beside me on the bed, not saying anything right away. Just... being there. And somehow, that made it easier to talk.

"He hurt a little kid," I whispered. "Like... a child, Mom. He's a monster."

She reached for my hand and held it tightly. "I know, sweetheart."

I swallowed hard, struggling to put the storm in my head into words. "I keep thinking... maybe if I'd said something sooner, if I'd gone to the police the second it happened... maybe that little boy wouldn't have been hurt."

"No," Mom said firmly, her eyes locking with mine. "Emily, don't you dare blame yourself. What happened wasn't your fault. What Trevor did to anyone—that's on him. Not you."

"But what if I could've stopped him?" I asked, my voice cracking. "What if I had just... been braver?"

"You were so brave," she said, her voice thick with emotion. "Brave doesn't always mean shouting it to the world right away. Sometimes it means surviving. Healing. Making it through one day at a time. You're doing all of that."

I leaned into her, resting my head against her shoulder. "I hate that he's still hurting people."

"I do too," she said quietly. "But now there's a record. A case. The courts are involved. And I promise you, this time, he won't get away with it."

I nodded slowly, letting her words sink in.

"I want to help stop him," I whispered. "I don't know how yet, but... I want to. I need to."

Mom wrapped her arm around me, holding me close. "When you're ready, we'll figure out what that looks like. Together."

I went back to the support group I went to a few months back.

The room looked just like I remembered.

The soft circle of chairs.

The calming pale-blue walls.

The quiet hum of the AC above and the gentle rustle of tissues in hands that had wiped away more tears than anyone could count.

It felt safe here.

And yet, I was shaking.

Rebecca, the support group facilitator, gave me a warm smile as I walked in. "Hi, Emily. Welcome back."

I nodded, not trusting my voice yet. My arms rested gently across my stomach—three months in, and the bump was just starting to show. It still felt surreal.

Ellie caught my eye from across the circle. She was sixteen, kind-eyed, soft-voiced, and strong in that quiet way you didn't see until she spoke. She'd been the first one to talk to me when I came to group the first time. She'd shared her own story.

It was different from mine, but too similar in all the ways that mattered.

Once everyone was seated and the usual check-ins were done, Rebecca asked the question she always asked:

"Would anyone like to share tonight?"

I hesitated.

And then I raised my hand.

My heart pounded in my ears.

Rebecca nodded gently. "Take your time."

I breathed in through my nose, slow and shaky. Then I let it all out.

"Three months ago... I was walking through the park near my neighborhood. It was late. I shouldn't have been out, but... I just needed air. I needed quiet. It felt safer than being around people."

My hands twisted together in my lap.

"I saw someone I knew. Trevor. He's this boy from school who's... awful. He bullied me a lot. Called me names because I'm gender fluid. Made fun of how I dressed. What I said. What I wasn't."

I looked down, blinking fast. But I kept going.

"That night, he followed me. I didn't think much of it at first. Just more teasing. But then..." I swallowed hard. "He grabbed me. Shoved me down. I tried to get away, but he was too strong. I told him to stop. I begged him to stop. But he didn't."

The words burned in my throat.

"He raped me."

It was quiet.

Utterly quiet.

No gasps. No pity.

Just a quiet, steady stillness. The kind that holds space for pain.

"I went home and didn't say anything. For days. I felt frozen. Ashamed. Like it was my fault. For being out late. For not screaming louder. For not... stopping it."

I wiped a tear from my cheek.

"But it wasn't my fault. I know that now. Because a few weeks later... I found out I was pregnant."

A breath caught in my chest, but this time it wasn't from fear.

"I decided to keep the baby. Not because I wanted to remember what he did—but because this baby is mine. And I won't let him take that from me too."

Ellie reached across the circle, her eyes shining. She didn't say anything. She just nodded. She understood.

Rebecca spoke softly. "Thank you, Emily. That took incredible strength."

I didn't know what I expected—maybe awkward silence, maybe whispers.

But all I saw were faces like mine.

Faces who had lived through their own darkness.

And were still standing.

The chairs were folding up one by one. Quiet goodbyes and soft thank-yous filled the room as the others trickled out. Rebecca gave me a gentle pat on the back as she passed, and I offered her a tired but grateful smile.

I hadn't realized how drained I felt until I stood up.

Like all the weight I'd been carrying had finally dropped to the floor—and left me wobbling without it.

As I stepped into the hallway, I heard footsteps behind me.

"Hey."

It was Ellie.

She was holding her backpack loosely, her jacket tied around her waist. There was a tiny pin on her shirt that said "still here."

I gave her a quiet smile. "Hey."

We walked together outside into the warm evening air. The sun was just starting to dip behind the trees, casting long shadows across the sidewalk.

"You okay?" she asked, not in that nosy way people ask sometimes. Just... real.

I nodded. "I think so. I mean... I said it. All of it. And I didn't fall apart."

Ellie gave a soft smile. "You were amazing."

I looked down. "I was terrified."

"You were still amazing."

For a moment, we just stood there. The sounds of traffic nearby, the buzz of summer bugs in the grass. Then she spoke again.

"That happened to me too," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "Not the park. Not the same way. But... someone I trusted. He used that trust. I didn't talk about it for a long time."

I looked over at her, and something inside me softened even more.

"Do you still think about it?" I asked.

"Yeah," she said honestly. "But not every second like I used to. Some days it's just a shadow. Some days it's loud. But it doesn't own me anymore. And it won't own you either."

We were quiet again.

Then Ellie glanced at my stomach, at the soft curve that I was still getting used to.

"Do you know if it's a boy or girl yet?"

I shook my head. "Not yet. Honestly, I don't even care. I just want them to be okay."

She nodded. "They're lucky. You're gonna be a great mom."

I blinked, caught off guard. "You think so?"

"I know so," she said. "You're already fighting for them. That says everything."

I felt tears sting again—but not the scared kind this time. Something gentler.

"Thanks, Ellie," I said. "Really."

She smiled, a little stronger now. "Anytime."

We parted ways at the parking lot. Mom was waiting in the car with the engine running, but she didn't rush me. Just sat with the windows down, letting me breathe.

As I climbed into the passenger seat, she looked over. "How was it?"

I didn't even have to think.

"I think I finally let go of something tonight."

She reached across the console and squeezed my hand.

"I'm proud of you," she whispered.

And for once, I didn't shrink away from the words.

Because I felt it too.

Not fixed.

Not finished.

But finally free enough to begin.

We pulled into the driveway just as the sun was setting, streaks of orange and pink stretching across the sky like someone had painted it by hand. The kind of sunset that made everything feel softer for a while.

As I stepped out of the car, I could hear laughter coming from the backyard.

Lily's voice rang out first—loud, dramatic, and filled with the kind of energy only a nine-year-old could summon at the end of a long summer day. "No fair! You started running before I said go!"

Then came Sam, out of breath and laughing, chasing her around the sprinkler that was spraying arcs of water across the grass. "You said go in your head! That doesn't count!"

Mom smiled as she locked the car. "Looks like they didn't miss us too much."

I chuckled, the tension from earlier still tucked somewhere in my chest, but loosening with every step toward the backyard.

The air smelled like fresh-cut grass and charcoal, and somewhere nearby I could hear music playing faintly through a speaker—something poppy and summery.

Dad was by the grill again, flipping burgers and wearing his ridiculous "Kiss the Cook" apron that Mom had gotten him as a joke last year. It was stained now—proof of its use—and he was humming off-key to whatever song was playing, completely content.

He looked up when he saw us and smiled. "Hey, kiddo! How was group?"

"It was good," I said, and for once, I meant it.

Before I could say anything else, Lily rushed over barefoot, soaked from the sprinkler and grinning. "EMILY! Come sit in the grass! We're playing tag but it's sprinkler tag now."

"Sprinkler tag?" I raised an eyebrow.

"You have to run through the water before you can tag someone," Sam explained, jogging up behind her and dripping wet. "Rules are sacred."

"I think I'll pass," I said, giving my belly a light pat. "The baby says no running tonight."

Lily flopped down in the grass beside me anyway. "Well, then the baby can be the judge."

I laughed. "Great. They'll definitely play favorites."

We sat there together, me with my legs tucked to the side, watching as Sam went right back to chasing Lily through the sprinkler again like it was the Olympics.

Mom brought over a plate of watermelon and sat beside me. "You look lighter," she said quietly.

"I feel lighter," I whispered back. "Group helped."

She nodded, brushing a damp strand of hair from my forehead. "I'm glad."

Dad shouted something about burgers being ready, and Lily sprinted toward the grill, yelling "ME FIRST!" while Sam trailed behind, pretending to be dramatic about his hunger.

The picnic table was covered in all the usual stuff—paper plates, a bowl of chips already half-empty thanks to Sam, and a pitcher of lemonade sweating in the middle. The burgers were juicy, the buns were toasted just right, and the air still smelled faintly like charcoal and summer.

I took a big bite of my burger and chewed thoughtfully.

Then I paused.

"...This may sound weird," I said slowly, setting the burger down, "but I need something sweet in this. Like... possibly chocolate?"

Everyone turned and stared at me.

Sam made a face. "What?"

Lily dropped her chip. "Ew, no! You are not putting chocolate on a hamburger."

Dad blinked. "You've gotta be kidding me..."

I held up my hands. "I'm just saying—it needs something! Like that balance. Sweet and savory. The baby agrees."

Sam shook his head. "That baby has no taste."

Mom, who had just stepped inside a minute ago, called from the kitchen window. "Sweet and savory, huh?"

I nodded, not expecting her to take me seriously.

But two minutes later, she came outside holding a jar of apple butter.

"This might do the trick," she said with a sly grin, handing it to me like it was some kind of sacred offering.

Sam recoiled in horror. "That's worse than chocolate!"

Lily looked like she might be sick. "We're eating food! Why are you doing this to us?!"

I laughed, smearing a thin layer of the apple butter across the top bun. "Don't knock it till you try it."

I took a bite—and paused.

Chewed.

Then blinked in surprise.

"...Okay, that's actually really good."

Dad shook his head like he was watching a slow-motion food crime. "I don't even know you anymore."

Mom just smirked and sat down beside me. "That's nothing. When I was pregnant with Sam, had a craving for sardines and pizza"

Sam looked personally offended. "What is wrong with you people?"

Lily shoved a chip in her mouth. "I'm not having kids. I don't want weird food brain."

We all burst into laughter again, the moment light and perfect and just the kind of weird I needed.

The sun dipped lower, casting golden light across the yard.

I leaned back on the bench, one hand resting on my stomach, and just breathed it all in.

Family.

Laughter.

And apple butter on a burger.

Not exactly normal.

But kind of... perfect.

"So did you hear about Trevor?" Sam asked, his voice casual as he reached for more chips.

I stiffened.

Mom, who was just stepping out of the house with a fresh pitcher of lemonade, immediately looked over at me.

"Yeah," I said, my voice low.

Sam paused, confused. "Wait—you already know?"

Mom nodded, her tone gentle but firm. "I heard about it on the phone today."

Lily stopped mid-bite, her expression tense. "What happened?"

Sam blinked. "Jake told me he saw it on FOX 9. Trevor's in court—for doing something messed up while babysitting some little kid."

Lily's eyes widened. "Someone let Trevor babysit?!"

"Apparently," Mom muttered, setting the lemonade down with more force than necessary. "God help those parents."

Dad came over from the grill, catching the end of the conversation. "You're talking about the Trevor story?"

Everyone nodded.

He wiped his hands on a towel, frowning. "That boy should've been in jail the first time. If the system had listened to Emily..."

I looked down at my plate, not hungry anymore. "He hurt someone else," I whispered.

Mom sat beside me. "We don't know the whole story yet, but yes... it sounds like he did. And it's awful."

Sam glanced at me, guilt flashing across his face. "Sorry. I didn't mean to bring it up like that. I didn't know you already heard."

"It's okay," I said, even though my stomach was twisting. "It's just... a lot."

Lily leaned over. "Do you think he'll go to jail?"

"I hope so," I answered quietly.

Mom reached over and squeezed my hand. "No matter what happens, you did the right thing by speaking up. And if there's a trial or anything else that comes from this—we'll face it together."

There was a long pause.

Then Sam said, in a brave attempt to lighten the mood, "Sooo... we're definitely not letting me babysit, right?"

Lily raised an eyebrow. "You once dropped my hamster in the laundry basket."

"That was ONE time!"

I gave a small laugh, and just like that, the tension started to fade again.

The air still hung heavy with the weight of the news—but we were outside, in the sun, together.

And Trevor?

He wasn't here.

And he never would be again.