It’s not a nightmare. It’s the events I survived just eight or so weeks ago, replaying on a constant loop in my head. The only peace I get is at the end, when I’ve been left alone for hours that feel like days in the cold, dark unit, before I hear Verek’s voice and see his face when he carries me out of that hellhole. Only then can I finally sleep soundly for a few short hours before it all starts over.
I retrieve a pack of gum from my purse, peppermint flavor, and unwrap a stick to put in my mouth. Ever since that night, the scent has been soothing, comforting whenever I’m upset. Once I’ve started chewing it, I finally answer the psychiatrist. “Yes. I still have trouble sleeping because of…nightmares,” I say, using her preferred word.
“Are you taking the sleep aid I prescribed?” Dr. Burgess asks.
“No,” I tell her honestly, biting down hard on my gum. “Those made it harder to wake up, so I stopped taking them.”
She scribbles down more notes.
“What else is new besides your living arrangements?” she asks. “Have you spoken to Paul?”
“No. I told you I don’t want to talk to him.”
“Because you don’t think he’ll respect your boundaries? That he’ll try to touch you without your permission.”
“Yes, that’s part of it,” I agree as I stare down at my fingers twisting in my lap. “I don’t want to lead him on. We’re not getting back together, so I don’t think I should speak to him at all.”
“It’s still nice to have friends.”
“I have friends. I have Charlotte and Roman. My former coworkers, Bev, Sydney, and Ruth. Oh, and, um, Verek,” I reply, even though I haven’t seen Verek in a week, since I left the treatment facility. He used to visit every day, and now he only sends a couple of texts a day, asking how I am.
“Let’s talk about Verek for a moment,” she says.
“What about him?”
“The two of you are just friends, but he was visiting you every day while you were an inpatient, bringing you flowers and telling you funny stories to cheer you up?”
“Yes, that’s right,” I reply, sad that the peppermint gum in my mouth has already started losing its flavor. Isn’t that the perfect metaphor for Verek? All I’ll ever have of him is his friendship in small bursts before he leaves again, going off to sleep with tons of women who aren’t damaged. “We’re friends. There will never be anything…romantic with him. How could there be when he was the one who found me?”
“You’ve discussed this topic with him?” Dr. Burgess asks.
“Not directly, no, but it seems pretty obvious that it couldn’t work. We don’t need to discuss it.” Verek is a playboy who works in a club filled with beautiful women every night. I’ve known that since we met, when he put the moves on me. In fact, I’m certain he went home with a different girl after I left. I wouldn’t doubt that he took a girl home on the nights after he visited me. How could a man like him with a dirty mouth and a sexy body made for fucking ever want to be with the woman who was raped and can’t stand the thought of being touched by a man again? It’s impossible even if he is still attracted to me, which I’m certain he’s not. Verek just has a hero complex, like Roman.
“Very well,” Dr. Burgess says, writing all of that down. “Is there anything else you would like to talk about today?”
“I do have one question,” I start. “Do you think, well, with other victims, does their life ever go back to normal, like maybe after the assailants are caught?”
“As I mentioned last week, you should probably not focus on words like ‘normal’ as a measure of improvement. You’re a different person now, Tessa, and that’s okay. It’s best to focus on constructing your new normal, one that you can live with and that makes you happy.”
“Fine. Would you say that victims are happier after their rapists are off the streets?”
“Sometimes, yes,” Dr. Burgess responds. “But unfortunately, there’s usually a day when the criminal justice system releases them back into the world, either on bail or after they’ve served their sentence. Prepare yourself for those days, when things are out of your control, and the fear grows out of nowhere.”
Dammit! That’s not what I wanted to hear! I wanted her to say yes, that once the monsters are behind bars, then I could finally stop worrying about them finding me, of them coming after me, killing me because I saw their faces.
Now I know what needs to be done – all four men have to die. And I need to be there to ensure they’re really dead and can never hurt me or any other woman again.
Chapter Two
Verek
* * *
Roman’s right.
I may be impulsive, but I’ve always been a stubborn son of a bitch too.
Which is why I skulk around the clubhouse all day Monday, sipping on a beer, watching, waiting, until our president makes the same mistake again – leaving his cell phone unattended.
Charlotte came to visit for some alone time with Roman in his office while Tessa was at her appointment with the shrink.
It’s not my fault if Roman didn’t take his cell phone with him or change his password after I broke into it Friday to find out the location of the safe house.
And really, the man is asking for the theft by using the password Twix, or eight-nine-four-nine using those letters. He’s always had a sweet tooth, and I’ve seen the unlocked desk drawer in his office that’s full of Twix and packs of Oreos.
As I slip past the bar, I quickly lift the phone and drop it into my pocket on the way out the door as I tell the other guys hanging out bye.
Then, it’s just a matter of waiting for Reece, the mother charter’s IT genius, to come through with his intel.
I head back to my town house and start packing a light backpack while I wait, tossing in a pair of binoculars and several weapons, unable to stop myself from checking Roman’s phone every few minutes until it finally comes in.
The email from Reece is full of details – the addresses on maps for all three men, who they’re all related to, where they work, the descriptions and license plates of their vehicles. It’s all here in one very in-depth report from the former military man.
I want to call Tessa, but since it’s been a few hours, she’s probably out of her appointment and back at Roman and Charlotte’s. Calling her is too risky.
Instead, I send her a text message.
Call me when you’re alone.
I don’t have to wait long – maybe five minutes or so before my phone buzzes in my hand and her name flashes on the screen.
“Hey, sweetheart,” I answer.
“Hi, Verek,” Tessa replies, sounding a little out of breath. “Is everything okay? I haven’t heard from you in over a week.”
“I text you at least three times a day,” I remind her.
“Yeah, but you haven’t called or come by…” She trails off, making me smile because she’s basically saying she missed me.
“I would have, but Roman thought it would be best if I not bother you.”
“I’m not a child,” she huffs. “Roman doesn’t need to make those decisions for me.”