We walk out of the hotel, and it feels like an entire day has gone by. I want to go home and crawl in my bed, but I’m doing what Tanya askedof me. It will take more than this one confrontation, but I’m stealing my life back from this city.
“Can we go home now?” I ask. I don’t care if it’s his home or mine, I just want to stay with him.
“Of course we can.”
A short plane ride later, we make it back to my house and Micah takes such good care of me. He pulls me into the shower, scrubbing every inch of my body. He dresses me in my favorite silk pajamas and he holds me while we watch a movie.
Long after he falls asleep, my body is calm, but my mind is still reeling. I’m full of disappointment that I wasn’t able to keep my emotions at bay, gratitude that Micah was there with me, and rage at Nigel’s boldness.
I tap into that rage as I grab my camera to set it up. Rage I can do well, and it’s time I direct its laser at the people who put it there.
I don’t bother setting up any aesthetics for the video. I just sit in front of the camera and press record.
“We need to talk about why Nigel Pierce and men like him are dangerous to this industry.”
Chapter Twenty-Six
Dani
ONE POINT TWO MILLION VIEWS.
Three hundred thousand likes. Two thousand comments. Four thousand saves. Thirty-five hundred shares.
Those are the stats on the video I posted about Nigel and other assholes I’ve come across in the industry two days ago.
There’s some trolls in the comments calling me a liar or saying I should’ve just kept my mouth shut if nothing actually happened, which I expected. Usually, I eat internet trolls for breakfast, lunch, and dinner, but the high of finally getting all that off my chest has me not caring to engage.
Most of the responses have been overwhelmingly positive. Other women have already started to come out to tell their stories about Nigel. Some of them weren’t as fortunate as me to get away and I feel guilty for that. I know I wasn’t the first woman he tried to take advantage of, but would it have made a difference for the ones after me if I had said something sooner?
“Can I ask what you’re thinking about?” Dr. Goode prompts.
For a moment, I forgot I was in her office, that I was thinking about the video because she asked me how I felt about its success.
“To be honest? I don’t know.”
She gives me time to elaborate.
“I feel amazing about the video. I’m proud of that, but I still feel disappointed.”
“Disappointed, why?”
“For not speaking up sooner.”
“You spoke up when you were ready to.”
“That’s not good enough,” I spit. My harsh tone ricochets through her office.
She doesn’t try to cut through the tension of my outburst. She lets us sit in its heaviness. Her eyes aren’t angry, judgmental, or pitying. They’re just accepting. She uncrosses and recrosses her legs before speaking. “Were there any other reasons you felt disappointed?”
The words feel like bile coming out, but I let them out anyway. “I let him affect me. I … the first panic attack I ever had was because of him, so it’s like, yes, it’s great that I finally shared the truth out loud but …” The rest of the words glue themselves to the roof of my mouth.
“You feel like because he triggered a panic attack for you before and he did again this past weekend that you haven’t really made any progress,” Dr. Goode offers.
I turn to the wall, hating that she was able to so clearly put my emotions to words. That’s exactly it. What good is allowing myself to be vulnerable if the sight of Nigel is still going to reduce me to a blubbering mess? “Yes,” I acknowledge.
“Okay, I see what you’re saying. So, let me ask you this. We’ve talked about your friends Amerie and Janelle and their relationship. Will you think less of Janelle if she does make amends with Amerie?”
“Of course not.”
