“Only because you deserve all the care in the world. Now, let’s move into the bathroom for the hour of spoiling indulgence to commence.”
Chapter 31
Oliver
Before the start of group, Talia and I tucked ourselves into our usual corner. She launched straight into a breathless update about her latest cosplay invention for a con coming up in a few weeks. “So I’ve decided to go full armor build this time. Not foam, actual thermoplastic. I’m talking heated, molded, layered, and painted. Spiked pauldrons the size of knives. This is going to be my magnum opus, Lady Thornstrike fromBlightstrom Requiem. I’ve already started distressing the underlayers so they have a battle-worn effect.”
“I have no doubt it’ll be epic.”
“So epic. Oh! Did I mention my cousin’s boyfriend is going to 3D print me the gauntlet claws? People will be tripping over themselves to photograph me. I’ll have to set up velvet ropes to keep the crowds in order.”
“I actually know one of the guys who worked onBlightstrom Requiem.”
“What!? No way! Who?”
“Micah Rourke, the—”
“Composer!” she burst, nearly toppling her chair over from excitement. “The composer, Oliver! That score is fire for an indie game, and he built the entire orchestra and choral work himself using software. Layered every instrument, every note, until it sounded like it had been recorded in some famous symphonyhall with an entire orchestra and choir. It’s so cinematic it gives you goosebumps. How do you know him?”
“He’s Luke’s best friend’s boyfriend.”
“And you’ve been sitting on this information?”
“I guess it never came up.”
“Okay, okay, start from the top. Is he one of those enigmatic brooding creative types, or gregarious and friendly or eccentric and quirky? Does he call it composing or sound design? Do you know what he’s working on right now? Do you ever get to hear demos of his work? Do you think he would sign my vinyl copy of his score?”
“You want me to answer these in order or pick one at random?” I snarked.
“Drat! Elijah looks like he’s about to start group, but you’re going to tell me everything over smoothies!” Talia said.
“Hey everyone, welcome,” Elijah said, signaling the start of group. Everyone meandered over to the group circle and took their seats.
“As ever,” Elijah continued. “I’m so glad each of you are here. Tonight we’ll be doing things a little differently than we’re used to. We’ve been working hard behind the scenes to expand the resources we can offer you all, and one of the things many of you have expressed interest in is legal counsel. I’m pleased to announce we’ve recently partnered with a local law firm to offer free legal services to anyone who might need or want them. Tonight, we’re joined by an attorney who has generously volunteered his time to be here to listen, to answer questions, to provide support and guidance, completely pro bono.”
Someone whispered, “That’s amazing,” across the circle. Another gave a quiet hum of agreement.
I thought of the young mother in our group who spoke of wanting full custody of her four-year-old son, but didn’t know where to begin and felt swallowed by the system. And Heather,the first woman to speak the night I’d joined, had wanted to apply for a restraining order but couldn’t afford a lawyer at standard rate. I thought of what this might mean for them. It struck me, as it often did, how extraordinary this place was. How the center never stopped trying to find ways to expand the circle of safety and support around us.
Elijah turned to the door. “Please join me in welcoming...”
No. No. No.
It couldn’t be. This couldn’t happen. Yet it could and it was, worse than any nightmare because I remained awake while the horror arrived.
Vincent, in a pristine, ultra-expensive, custom-fitted suit, walked through the doorway. Vincent, the reason I sat in this room at all. His gaze swept the room once before locking onto mine.
My breath vanished, the air around me instantly thinning. My fingers clenched at the arms of the folding chair, trying to anchor myself to something, anything.
How? How had this happened? How had my abuser been allowed through those doors?
It occurred to me then, I had never spoken his name aloud in this group. Not once. Not in my stories. Not even in private conversations after group. He had only ever been my ex, the man I left, the reason I ran. I had scrubbed him clean of name and profession, because stripping him of every identifier might reduce his power, make him a little less real. Disassociating myself from him and omitting his name denied him presence, or so I had told myself.
In trying to erase him from my narrative, I’d unknowingly left a door unlocked. One I never imagined needed locking. Of all the harrowing ways I’d feared encountering him again, in this safe place, in my circle of healing, had never crossed my mind.
If he was as surprised to see me as I was him, he didn’t show it. The smile stayed fixed on his face, but it shifted from something affable and rehearsed to something calculating. His lips stretched wider, baring a flash of gleaming white teeth, while his eyes narrowed full of malicious intent. I heard everything he told me through that sinister grin.I see you. You can’t stop me. Look what I can still do to you, all without so much as lifting a finger.
“Oliver?”
