The therapist needed to get back to the patient who was truly suffering, yet here I was distracting her.
“The party was fine. I, um...”
I had no idea how to explain what had happened on the roof, nor did I even want to try. I was content to pretend it never happened.
Instead, I held up my injured hands as their own explanation. “I just had a bit of an accident and wanted to get a bandage, but the nurse’s office was empty.”
Just as I’d thought, it was an easy fix. The therapist called the nurse, who showed up a minute later to treat my hands. The whole process took less than five minutes, and soon, I was bandaged up and allowed to return to my room.
Well, it wouldn’t bemyroom much longer. This was my last night sleeping here. Tomorrow, I would take a taxi to the new apartment that was waiting for me, and start the next chapter of my life. Most of my stuff was already packed into boxes, ready for the move.
I should have been happy. Getting this far was a big achievement. Yet, all I could think about was the girl who was probably sitting in the therapist’s office right that very moment.
She would be fine. The therapists employed by the facility knew what they were doing. They’d helped me heal, and they would help her, too. Soon enough, she’d be in my position and ready to move on with her life as well.
But then what?
I was leaving tomorrow, but my room wouldn’t stay empty. Another patient would move in. Then, when they were healed and finally left, another patient would follow them.
Restless energy coursed through me. I stood by the single window in my room, tapping one of my newly bandaged fingers on the glass as I stared out at the glittering lights of San Francisco.
It didn’t matter how many victims this place healed. More would just keep coming. In the end, nothing would really change.
Two years ago, I would have accepted this as a fact. Everyone was either a victim, or an abuser. That’s just how the world worked.
However, while the world may not have changed, I had. I’d met good people, who wanted to help simply for the sake of helping and took no joy in hurting others. I’d realized that the world wasn’t as black and white as I thought. That there was more than just the cycle of abuse that I’d always known.
So, if I could change, then why couldn’t the world change, too?
The simple answer was, it could change, but not on its own. If we wanted the world to change, then we would have to do something about it.
Ihad to do something about it.
Looking around at the room I’d called home for the last two years, I imagined the person who would move in after me.
What would it be like if one day the room stood empty because no one needed it anymore?
With a sigh, I leaned my head against the window and let the cool glass soothe away the last remaining dregs of my anger.
I shouldn’t have snapped at Clay like that. It had been unnecessarily cruel. Of course, I knew he hadn’t had it easy. We’d been through the same horrors. I was just jealous that he seemed to be doing better than me, and that he had the courage to stand up to our abusers when all I wanted to do was hide.
In the end, it all came down to the fact that I was scared. The moment Clay and Logan showed up on the roof, a part of me knew why they were there, and what my answer would be. Of course, I was going to agree. I’d never be able to live with myself if I just walked away and left other victims to suffer the same way that I had. That was why I’d gotten so angry. It all felt so inevitable, like I had no choice in the matter. Clay and Logan were always going to ask me to help with the case against the bellringers, and I was going to say yes. There was no other way this could play out.
I lost track of time staring out the window, picking apart the tangle of my own thoughts. It wasn’t until dawn started to lighten the sky above the city that I realized how long I’d been standing there. My feet and back hurt from not moving for so long, and my joints creaked when I sat down on my bed.
The cardboard boxes scattered over the floor mocked me. All my stuff was packed and ready to go. There weren’t even that many. I could probably fit them all into the trunk of a decent-sized car. It would be so easy to call an Uber, move my stuff to my new apartment that was waiting for me, and never look back.
Except, that wouldn’t work. Someone had tried to kill me last night. No matter how I tried to fool myself, running away had never been an option.
The clock on my phone had just ticked over to seven o’clock when I pulled out the business card that Logan had given me. It was too early in the morning to call anyone. I’d almost definitely be disturbing their sleep, but damn it all, after everything I’d been through, they could put up with a rude awakening.
To my surprise, the phone only rang once before someone answered.
“Jordy,” Logan’s voice greeted me before I could say anything.
“How—” My voice cracked, and I cleared my throat before starting again, thankful that no one could see the embarrassed blush on my cheeks. “How’d you know it was me?”
“I just... had a feeling,” he said.
