“I don’t think this is going to work for me,” I told her.
She snapped the notebook shut and put it into one of the empty chairs. “No notes then. Just you and me talking about whatever you need to. If you give me a chance, I really think I can help you like I have some of the other women here.”
I hesitated and then eased back down into the chair because she was listening to me and letting me have some control. That was enough to make me want to give her a chance.
When she didn’t talk, I realized she was waiting for me to start the conversation.
“I was trafficked,” I blurted out and then finished with the part that was a mind fuck, “And I don’t hate the man who bought me. Does that make me stupid or weak?”
Elizabeth didn’t look particularly surprised at hearing my deepest, darkest secret.
“It’s not important what I think. But I will tell you one thing. Very few things in life are what they seem at first glance. Why don’t you start at the beginning and explain what happened?”
I took a deep breath and just started talking, “My father sold me to settle a gambling debt. The man who bought me was a real asshole. He hit me went on and on about how much moneyhe was going to make from auctioning me off. At first, I thought all bikers were like that and hated them all.”
“What happened after that?” she asked.
“That biker did exactly what he said he was gonna do. He sold me in an auction to another biker. Instead of cash exchanging hands, favors were traded between the two of them. They hashed it all out right in front of me like I wasn’t even there.”
Her expression immediately fell. “I’m sorry that happened to you. You didn’t do anything wrong and you didn’t deserve any of that. You know that, right?”
I could feel myself getting emotional. Nodding, I blinked back tears and pushed forward with what I needed her to know.
“The thing is, I stopped hating the guy who bought me somewhere along the way, because I believe he just wanted to get me out of a bad situation. Stepping up for me has caused a lot of trouble for his club but they’ve stood by me and did things they didn’t want to do.”
“It sounds like a complicated situation.”
“It’s complicated and confusing. I know things could be a lot worse and they’re actually really nice to me here. I should be happy. But I can’t get past being bought and sold like a piece of property. Trafficking human beings is wrong. And all these guys are getting off scot-free.”
“You want justice,” she stated bluntly. “Is that what you’re saying?”
I lifted my chin. She’d hit the nail right on the head. “Yes, of course I want justice. But in order to put my father and Viper in jail, I would have to put Fuse in jail too. They all three trafficked me. But I don’t want Fuse to go to jail. I keep going back and forth about it in my mind.”
“What you’re feeling is called cognitive dissonance. It’s when you have two conflicting feelings that you have yet to reconcile.”
I felt a headache starting in my left temple. “That sounds about right.” After a slight pause, I added, “I don’t think it’s bikers that I don’t like. I think it’s the way they walk around doing and saying whatever they want with no consequences. Every time I start trying to think it through, my brain gets muddled and I end up with a huge headache. What do you think about me trusting Fuse? Does that sound crazy to you?”
Dr. Kline responded, “I’ve worked with women connected to this club before. I’ve never heard of them mistreating or trafficking women before.”
I let that bit of information sink in for a moment. She trusted the Slayers. I guessed I’ve crossed the line into trusting them as well.
“Are they holding you against your will?” she asked.
I thought about what Fuse had told me. “Not really. I’m not allowed to leave the clubhouse, but Fuse said it was because I was still in danger.”
She looked thoughtful. “Do you think this is correct? Because if you need to leave, I can arrange for you to go to a women’s shelter.”
That was what Cassandra had offered too. These two professional women seemed to be looking out for me, and I did think that if I really wanted to leave Fuse wouldn’t stop me. “I feel safe here. No one has touched me or made me feel unsafe.”
“Okay,” she answered.
“Is there anything I can do to stop me feeling so angry about what’s happened to me??”
“One thing that’s worked for other women in your situation is journaling. Sometimes it helps you parse through all the details of a complicated situation,” she explained.
She pulled a blank notebook out of her bag and handed it to me.
“Try writing down your thoughts, both good and bad,” she said. “Then separate out each one on a blank piece of paper and let yourself just write whatever comes to mind.”
