After the events detailed in Fool Me Twice Part 1, a fury of mental confusion began. After the incident with Isaac, I was suddenly getting lost in my head. This was something that hadn’t happened for a very long time. I began waking in the night with vivid nightmares, seeing Shane’s face morphing into Isaac’s. Reliving the moments of my previous assault woke me in the night dripping with cold sweat and my heart beating out of my chest. Even Isaac’s innocent touch, such as reaching to hold my hand, became unsettling to me. It was like I wanted to burn my flesh off every time I remembered what had happened. I didn’t know how to approach this topic. How do you tell someone they violated you? How do you tell someone you are repulsed by their touch, even though just weeks previous you had been begging for physical pleasure? How do you tell someone you don’t trust sleeping in the same bed with them anymore despite exchanging “I love you”s?

The worst part wasn’t even just the painful awkwardness or the nightmares. It was questioning myself and questioning reality. I would lose large expanses of time in my head or in blurs of nothing, which I know now was dissociating. The inner conflict in my head was vicious. Are you sure that even happened? Maybe you made it up. You just want to find an excuse to push him away because you fear a real relationship. You are making problems that don’t exist. But what he did was creepy… and disgusting. You only feel disgusting because Shane made you fear intimacy because, in that moment, your choice was attempted to have been taken from you. You are a mess. He loves you and you don’t love him back. The words hit me. You don’t love him back. Yes, you do you, coward. No. No. I do not love him.

What if you never find anyone you can trust?

In that moment, it was done. Everything was done. I realized that I couldn’t trust Isaac. I realized talking with him about this would just start a fight. He wouldn’t see it the way I did, but that didn’t mean that was I was feeling wasn’t valid. I knew in my heart that it was true, I did not love Isaac. I stared around my place, looking at all his things. He hadn’t stayed over in almost two weeks. All our conversations had been turning to arguments. I looked at his gym bag, his stack of video games, and I realized I didn’t want them in my place anymore. I packed them all up, cursing myself and feeling like an idiot, but also cursing him. Damn Isaac for doing this. If he had just kept his hands to himself this wouldn’t have happened. At least it happened before you had actual sex with him. My head went quiet. An inner panic ensued. What if you never find anyone you can trust? What if Shane ruined you? That thought infuriated me to a point that frightened me. I was seething suddenly. No. I wanted to spite him. He didn’t ruin me. I wouldn’t give him that satisfaction Isaac called me after work asking if he could come over. I had already started dinner and told him that was okay. He knew it was coming, I think. He certainly knew something was wrong. He slowly pulled down the lane and sat in his truck for a few moments before coming up to the door. We sat at the table in silence. I had no regrets or second thoughts. I pushed the remaining half of my dinner away from me.

“We need to talk,” he said before I could.

I looked up at his brown eyes. I looked into those eyes only a few weeks previous and had only admiration, and now I only had distrust. “Yeah, we do,” I sighed. “Isaac, I care about you, but some things that have happened were not okay.”

He looked at me, pushing me to say more.

“Do you remember the night you stayed over at my parents' house… when you… um… woke me?”

He seemed lost.

“Where you had… when I was sleeping… you,” I was stumbling and stuttering.

“What, when I was giving you a handy?”

I recoiled at his crass language. “Yes,” I said through my teeth.

“Is that what this whole fucking mess is about? Are you really pissed at me for trying to make you happy?” his face was suddenly flushed. “Are you fucking kidding me right now?”

I couldn’t look at his face. I was trying to not burst into tears. “Isaac…”

“I tried to make you happy and now you want to fucking throw me away?”

Those words stung me.

“Wow. Fucking wow. How the fuck am I supposed to keep my shit together now. I wanted to marry you one day and have kids and all that shit and you just want to get rid of me. You’re the only good thing in my life. You’re the only person I care about and you don’t care about me? HOW? I thought you loved me too? Guess I’m a fucking idiot. No one can love me because I’m a fuck up. One giant fuck up.” He suddenly stood and angrily paced in a small circle. “You’re really going to do this, Andy?”

I couldn’t speak. My chest was tight. I maintained my staring contest with the wood top of my kitchen table.

“I’m a fucking moron. I can’t believe I thought you actually loved me. I actually thought we were going to get married. Might as well fucking kill myself now,” he fumed as he started across the room to the door.

“Isaac,” my voice cracked.

He turned back to look at me. If looks could kill, I’d have been crucified on the wall. “You were the only good thing in my life. I fucking love you, but obviously, I’m not good enough.”

I closed my eyes, holding back tears, “Isaac. Please.” He started for the door again. “Goddamnit, Isaac. Stop.” I jumped up from the table and reached to grab his arm. He pulled his arm away from my grasp. “There’s a lot more. I don’t want to hurt you. I honestly don’t want you to hurt, but I need to figure out a lot of things. I need to—“

“You need to figure out what the fuck you want and it doesn’t include me.” He grabbed his box of things and slammed the door behind him. I watched him get into his truck, throwing gravel across the yard as he peeled out.

I’m not sure how long I stood there staring out the window. I don’t remember what happened over the next few hours. I was lost somewhere very deep in my mind. I questioned if I had just thrown away any chance of love or the only chance I had.

Isaac starting sharing tons of sad/break-up posts on his Facebook. My brother saw them and called me to see what was up. I told him what happened (in reference to breaking up). I could tell he was wrestling with telling me something, but we don’t keep secrets. He told me that Isaac had reached out to him a few weeks prior to ask what my ring size was. Isaac was going to propose to me. My cycle of panicked thoughts ensued, but in the back of my mind, I still felt relieved. The picture I used to see of a future with Isaac had burned and disintegrated in the pit of my mind.

I knew I did what was right. I knew there was no future. I knew I needed to repair the damage that had been inflicted within me.