I stand and go around to him, placing my hands on his shoulders. “My story will get the vultures off our back, because once I reveal the truth, there is no more story to uncover. But that’s not why I want to do it.” I peer into his big, beautiful, blue eyes. “I want to help others. I want other young girls to be aware of the dangers. To be more vigilant. And I want to help other survivors. I want to show them you can come through it. That life isn’t over because someone chooses to violate your body and obliterate your spirit. That there are places and people and supports out there to help.”
I exhale heavily after my little speech, hoping he understands.
Slowly, he nods. “Okay.” He cups my face. “Are you sure you’ve given it enough thought? That you’re not making a rash decision?”
“I’m sure. And I’ve spoken to Denise about it.”
“Will she be attending with you?”
“Yes, and I’d really like you and Mom there too.”
He presses a kiss to my forehead. “That goes without saying, baby. Of course, I’ll be there.” He threads his fingers through mine. “We’re in this together forever.”
* * *
The interviewwith60 Minutesis set up for next week, and now, my face is splashed all over more billboards as they build up hype for the talk. The news about my marriage to Keanu has also been disclosed, and the level of interest right now is off the charts.
Unfortunately, that means I can’t attend classes for the foreseeable future, so I’m back to watching videos online. But it’s a small price to pay, because the potential rewards of this interview vastly outweigh any temporary inconvenience to my life.
I cannot complain because it’s heightening awareness of sex trafficking, victims of child sex abuse in general, and it’s helping to remove the stigma, which can only be a good thing. The Me Too movement has helped remove the fear of discussing sensitive subjects openly, in public forums, helping pave the way for other atrocities to come to light. The more we talk about these injustices, these acts of violence toward others, the more people will become vigilant and more outspoken in demanding the authorities do something concrete to catch these bastards and provide necessary funding to provide aid to victims.
Part of the contract Dan Evans, our family lawyer, negotiated with the producers of60 Minuteswas the inclusion of a donation line so viewers can contribute during the interview should they want to. The proceeds raised will be split equally between my mom’s charity and Polaris. Polaris is a nonprofit organization that operates the National Human Trafficking Resource Center, hosts the national hotline on human trafficking, and engages community members in local and national grassroots efforts.
The fee I’m receiving is going toward setting up my sanctuary.
While our house hunting hasn’t delivered any results yet, my crazy husband found a couple of large plots for sale in the Massachusetts area, and just yesterday, we put down a deposit on a fifty-six-acre site in New Marlborough. We’ve decided to focus our house hunting on places halfway between Wellesley and New Marlborough, so we’re only a little over an hour away from my future place of work and my in-laws.
My life has changed so much, I think, as I lean against the front of the car, in the small parking garage at the back of the condo, waiting for Paul and Ray to take the grocery bags from the trunk.
Although we are staying in Wellesley for Christmas, along with Mom because Alex considers her family now too, we are hosting a little pre-Christmas party here on Saturday night for Keanu’s brothers and their partners, and Kelly and Todd are coming too.
I’m actually looking forward to it.
The old me would never have attended this party, let alone thrown it, and it just highlights how far I’ve progressed.
I never imagined things could be this good, even a year ago, and I’ll never take what I have for granted.
Two loud pops startle me from the rosy cloud in my head, and my heart rate pitches to coronary-inducing territory at the two accompanying thuds.
“Paul? Ray?” I call out, pushing off the hood and peering anxiously at the elevated trunk door.
My knees wobble as the figure rounds the back of the car, and I clutch on to the SUV to keep myself upright.
“Hello, bitch,” Freddie says, his dark eyes glaring at me as he points a gun at my head. “Surprised to see me?”
I slide my hand around to the back pocket of my jeans, reaching for my cell.
“I wouldn’t bother,” he says. “No one can save you now.”
Adrenaline courses through my veins, joined by anger that has simmered under the surface for years.
I’m not a victim.
I’m a survivor, and I won’t cower to this bastard again.
My spine stiffens, and I tip my chin up, letting go of the car and standing upright before him. “You mean no one can save you, because if you think my husband or the FBI will let you take me again, you are sorely mistaken.”
“Such lofty words for a timid little bitch.” His eyes rake up and down my body, and nausea twists in my gut. “And you hold no interest for me anymore.” He puts his face all up in mine, and my natural instinct is to rear back, but I hold my ground even though I’m shaking like an earthquake on the inside and my sweater is stuck to my back like a second layer of skin. “I like my pussy young and virginal, and you’re too old and too used up,” he sneers.
