I covered my face to hide my blushing, embarrassed Ollie remembered one of our first conversations. “There are notions so powerful even science can’t grasp, Ollie.”
He dropped his head back and brought his two fingers to his eyes as a laugh slipped out.
I’d never thought much about my future, what I wanted to do, or where I would end up. I’d never cared enough before. As a little girl, I’d dreamed of what typical little girls would dream of. One day becoming a ballerina, or a princess, or even a star playing and singing in Madison Square Garden in front of thousands of people. But those were illusions belonging only in dreams. None of it was real, and I’d quickly met reality when my uncle had shown me the difference. In real life, there was evil. In real life, parents couldn’t protect you from everything, and most importantly, in real life, there was pain.
But Ollie was real. He had opened my eyes to what my future could look like, and I’d never wanted anything more than a life with him.
Weeks passed, and I found myself taking my courses seriously and staying away from trouble. During the week, we stayed apart in the public eye, only showing affection behind closed doors. And as more memories surfaced, panic attacks became a regular thing, but Ollie coached me through every one of them. He taught me how to release my anger through music, and we spent hours on the weekends in the vacant group therapy room.
I still hadn’t told him about my past, afraid he would look at me differently. I only wanted to hold on to the way Ollie saw me for as long as I could. Would he see a used and worthless little girl? A murderer? An evil inside me like my father saw?
We were now into October. You couldn’t see the change through the windows of the building; the skies were the same jaded gray. Though, the temperature slowly dropped inside the building. It was Thursday, and one of those days where my hair rebelled against me, my mind was mush, and I seemed to be five minutes behind all day. I hurried from my dorm to grab my gray hooded sweatshirt to group therapy.
Okay, it wasn’t mine.
It was Ollie’s hoodie.
I had a bad habit of stealing his clothes, but he wouldn’t have it any other way.
All eyes were on me as I took my usual seat across from Ollie in the circle. He leaned back in the chair, wet his lips, and mouthed, “You look beautiful.” And his infectious smile spread to my face.
“Today is the day,” Arty said, interrupting Ollie and my unsaid conversation.
Everyone looked over at Arty with confusion. “What’s today, boss?” Isaac asked.
“Mia is going to open up and tell us about what she went through as a child. We haven’t heard from her yet. She’s always quiet,” Arty said.
The mention of my name suddenly made my heart beat at an uncontrollable pace. I wasn’t ready. My stomach coiled as I glanced around the room. I didn’t want to tell Ollie like this. Not in front of everyone. My eyes found my constant source of calmness and Ollie studied my reaction. “But … I’m not ready,” I stuttered and shook my head.
“The only way you’ll be able to start the healing process is if you talk about it openly. We’re all on your team, Mia,” Arty insisted. My mouth went dry. I tried to swallow, but I couldn’t. Could I do this? Could I tell everyone what I’d done?
“You can’t force her to do this,” Ollie stated, coming to my rescue as always. He was afraid for me or afraid of me going into a rage right here in front of our counselor.
Arty looked over at me, ignoring Ollie’s statement. “It’s been a month since you’ve been back from psych with your memories. If you can’t talk about it now, then I don’t think group therapy is appropriate for you at this time. We’ve been patient, Mia, but it’s not fair for you to take someone else’s place in this session who is ready to heal.”
The walls around me caved in as I darted my eyes between Ollie and Arty. My knee bounced under my hands as I ran my sweaty palms down my thighs. I clenched my fists as the anger stirred inside me, my nails digging into my palms. The hot rage was built along with the fear. I couldn’t tell everyone. I was still that angry little girl ready to explode at any second.
Until Ollie’s warm hands covered mine.
Opening my eyes, I saw his green ones staring back at me as he crouched in front of my lap. “Listen to me, Mia. If you’re not ready, then don’t. Who cares what Arty says.”
I looked around the room, and everyone glared at us in shock. Whispers spread like wildfire throughout the circle, but Ollie grabbed my face to force me to see only him. “The fuck with everyone, they don’t matter. If you want to tell your story, I’m right here. It will be only you and me. If not, I’ll walk out of this room with you right now. We’ll get into a lot of shit, but I’ll do it. I told you, Mia, you’re not alone in this.”
The patience in Arty’s face wore thin. The truth was, I knew if I ran out of this room, regardless if I asked Ollie not to follow me, he would. Ollie would get in trouble, and I couldn’t risk it. The only option I had was telling my story, and afterward, Ollie would never look at me the same.
I glanced back and forth between Ollie and Arty. “I … can I have a minute?”
The impatience was evident, but Arty’s training to be empathetic seemed to remind him as he responded, “Sure.”
Ollie squeezed my hand, struggling to hold back in front of everyone.
“It’s okay. Go sit down,” I said to Ollie, and he dropped his head.
Seconds passed, and he finally stood and took his seat in his chair.
Everyone observed me as I stood and paced outside the circle. The glaring didn’t help and only made me more nervous. I walked over to the piano and strummed my fingers over the cold, shiny painted wood. My cast was finally off, and I took a seat and played. My nerves gradually dissipated with each note, each stroke of a key, allowing the song to take over me as my nerves finally calmed.
As the song finished, I dropped my hands from the keys and into my lap. They were no longer shaking. I glanced up to see Ollie watching me from the edge of his seat. He rested his chin in his hands.
This was it.
Ollie would never look at me this same way again.
I was sure of it.
“I was only eight years old,” I said, and everyone’s eyes were on me, “and from what I remember, I was a good girl. I never took more than I needed. I never lied, never stole. I never whined when I didn’t get my way, and never hurt anyone. I had everything a girl could want. I had both a father and mother who loved me for who I was, which is more than I can say for some of you …” My eyes met Jake’s, instant pain in his eyes.
“But I was a naïve and sheltered girl. Bad things didn’t happen in my world. They were only in Disney movies. Who knew a monster didn’t have horns or sharp teeth? They don’t, by the way. I learned the hard way. The monster who hurt me a long time ago paraded around as my uncle, and no one warned me your own family could hurt you in ways you never thought were possible.