One can only experience so much sorrow. After a while, a person will explode with all of their feelings having been bottled up inside for so long. If not physically, then, emotionally
This was the case with Jamie, whose experiences of that night brought back distinct memories of other ungratifying encounters with other men. Add those two together, and you have enough stress to make Jesus himself cry.
Or if you aren't the religious type, let's just say this: To be as strong physically as Jamie is emotionally, you would have to go stand on railroad tracks and stop a train with your bare hands.
When Amy arrived at her house in the morning, she found Jamie sitting on her bed bleeding and absolutely hysterical. It took forever to calm her down, and when Amy finally did, Jamie could barely tell her about it.
Amy was about as good of a comforter as they come, so as soon as Jamie was about to burst into tears once again, she offered to give her a shower. Jamie obliged.
The shower helped Jamie a lot. It calmed her down remarkably well. Even though she was still a little shaken up, at least she didn't have bloody, matted hair anymore. That was just plain gross.
Upon entering her room, Jamie suddenly became aware that Amy was talking to her father at the top of the stairs. Scared out of her mind, she immediately ducked back into the bathroom and hid in the shower stall.
Five minutes later, Amy slammed the door and retrieved Jamie from the restroom and sat her down on the bed and helped her put on some of Amy's clothes. It was there that Jamie realized how bruised she was, but she shook the thoughts away from her head violently.
"The guy," Amy said, helping Jamie with a pair of shorts, "Was one of my dad's friends. He was too stone drunk to remember anything, so you're safe." She said that last bit nervously.
When she was dressed, she stood up slowly. Amy patted her on the shoulders contemptly and held her by the waist. "I love you." She said, plainly.
"I love you too." Jamie replied. "And I hope to god this never ends."