She didn’t have to feel the same sort of dirty shame that clung to some women after sexual assault. She had sadness and pain like me, but she also had anger. She didn’t want to hide hermarks because she didn’t want her half brothers to believe they’d broken her.
So, though I’m still uncomfortable in my new environment, I feel drawn to the girl. In some ways, we’re the same, and in others, we couldn’t be more different. It’s nice to see someone who’s so obviously hurting but who’s also confident. She doesn’t shy away from talking to anyone or make herself small in a room full of people.
Rory is physically tiny, but inside, I think she’sdauntless.
It’s six days in when I finally get mail. Apparently it arrived on day three, but protocol dictates I’m given almost a week to settle in before I receive it. I want to be upset that my letters were withheld, but I’m too excited to see Matteo’s name to put up a fuss. He wrote me the most lovely letter and told me that he would be sending me emails as well. He warned me that there would be so many that I didn’t need to worry about reading or replying to every single one. But of course, I do.
Day ten, I meet the horses. They’re large, almost daunting creatures when you first approach them. But their strength and appearance is quickly soothed by their gentle presence. The black mare called Charonbecomes my personal favorite, and I think she likes me too. Maybe because I sneak her two extra sugar cubes before the instructor can see.
Rory notices, though. She winks at me and puts a finger to her lips, silently vowing to keep my secret. She likes the horses as well but tells everyone that she would prefer to be inside. The California sun has never been her friend, her pale skin going pink in nearly every season.
On day thirteen, I have cake for the first time in three years. It’s marble with both chocolate and vanilla. The frosting and sprinkles are sweet, and I don’t feel anything other than happy while eating it.
Sixteen days in, Tiffany convinces me to try a water therapy session with a few other patients. She promises no one will care if I swim while fully covered, and she’s right. No one bats an eye as I float around the pool in leggings and a long shirt. The water is refreshing and reminds me of how much I used to enjoy swimming at our pool, as well as the beach.
Tiffany says I could make it a goal to visit my once-beloved sandy paradise, or even simply promise myself to swim more at home. She says both targets are something to look forward to, and I can’t find a reason to disagree.
It only makes me wonder if Matteo likes the beach.
Twenty days in, Rory becomes a friend. She’s been slowly giving me space by not pressuring me into long conversations or joining her in the common room for games, while also greeting me every day and offering kind smiles. I think she may have been my friend for several days before I truly noticed and accepted the fact.
We hang out and eat together, and we get to know each other. She’s funny and bold. She swears more than some of my father’s men, and she says that she plans to buy herself an ice cream cake and eat the whole thing on her own when she gets out of here. She tells me that she received a grant to attend this place, and that she could never afford to otherwise.
Rory tells me that she can tell I come from money, but that it doesn’t bother her like it might have once upon a time. She says that we’re both here, so money might have kept me from struggling with basic necessities, but we still both ended up being changed forever. Money couldn’t save either of us, so she decided to stop resenting when people had more of it than she did.
I tell her that I wouldn’t blame her if she resented anyone or anything. Money may not have prevented what happened to me, but it likely kept me from dying after the fact. If my fatherweren’t wealthy, he wouldn’t have had the best doctors in the country to keep me alive.
I confide in Rory a day before I tell my story in group. She hugs me and tells me that she’ll sit by my side and hurt anyone who even looks at me funny while I take my turn to share.
I talk about what happened to me in front of Tiffany and ten other people. I leave out some of the more gory bits so that I don’t trigger anyone accidentally. I feel a sort of relief getting the words out, but I also feel sadness. Sadness that such horrible things happened to such a young girl. It may be the first time I truly feel sympathy for the girl I used to be, rather than the girl I am today. I’m starting to see them as separate people, and I can’t deny that it’s a relief.
Day thirty, I ride a horse, and Rory rides one too.
Six days later, cats come to visit the facility. They steal my heart and I almost cry when they have to go. I start counting down the days until they’re coming back, rather than counting down the days until I get to go home.
I feel myself changing in so many ways, and I hope every single day that my progress isn’t exclusive to being here. I hope that when I do leave, I leave feeling confident that this new Anya is here to stay.
Rory tells me that she will be.
And I have to believe her.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Nico
Day One:Perimeter secured, team on standby. No red flags to note. Anya is settled into her room. She appears more shy than fearful. She attends one-on-one therapy only, but she eats in the communal space.
Day Three:The group therapy Anya attends has a large window to let in natural light. Annoying security risk, but good for keeping an eye on her. She doesn’t speak for more than a few minutes, seemingly just introducing herself. Others speak for longer and she listens.
Day Five:A middle-aged janitor with a mustache stares at her for too long while she eats lunch. He doesn’t return from his break. He bleeds out slowly, and one of my men ditches his car while the rest deal with his body.
Day Six:Anya receives her first letter from Matteo and one from her family as well. They arrived two days ago, but were held onto to give her extra time to settle in. She sheds tearsreading them both and is given time to write replies. I make a note to threaten staff if her mail is withheld again, but she’s told that it won’t be.
Day Ten:Anya is brought out to the barn and stables with a small group of young women. They spend time with three different horses who are remarkably calm and well trained. She pets each of them but favors the large black mare with braided brown hair. No security threats while outside. The new custodian is a stocky woman who doesn’t do anything other than her job.
Day Thirteen:It’s a young man’s birthday, and there’s a small party for him. There’s cake, and Anya denies wanting a slice until she’s encouraged to accept it. She smiles while she eats it. The boy is turning seventeen, the youngest allowed to be in Anya’s group’s program. Her therapist has two sectors of the building set apart for adolescents and adults. They don’t interact for obvious reasons.
Day Sixteen:Anya participates in water therapy, but fully clothed. No one makes any comments or asks any questions when she gets into the pool wearing leggings and a long-sleeved shirt.I keep a close eye on her while she swims and does the stretches suggested by the woman leading the small class of people. She seems uncomfortable at first, but eventually seems to enjoy it. She writes her next letter while her hair is still wet, and I have no doubt that the goofy smile on her lips as she drafts it means that it’s meant for my brother.
