Page 17 of Redemption

Megan

It’s been three weeks since Gawain rescued me, and I’m still living at his house in constant fear of M finding me. I’ve managed to avoid contacting my parents. I don’t want them involved until I know I’m a hundred percent safe. I can’t live this way forever, though. This is my fifth counseling session, and I’m finding them very helpful. I’m still terrified about leaving the house, but Gawain is always with me, and I feel safe in his company. I’ve put a little bit of weight back on, but I’m still finding it hard to wear clothes. They’re uncomfortable. I tend to wear a lot of joggers and t-shirts because they aren’t so tight. I’ve not yet been able to wear a bra as it’s too constricting around my ribs. Most of the bruising to my skin has vanished, and the wounds are healing. My arm is still bent, but the doctor has me scheduled for surgery in two weeks to fix it. I’m recovering. I think that’s the word I need to use to describe myself. It’s slow, and the nightmares are the worst. The fear of being taken again still limits what I’m willing to do, but Gawain is patient with me. I get the feeling from him that he’s a man who likes to be kept busy. Babysitting me twenty-four seven is a little boring, but he often invites the partners of the other members of his organization to come around and sit with me, so he can escape for a few hours. I don’t ask where he goes. I don’t want to know.

My counselor, a short middle-aged woman named Daphne, pushes her thick-rimmed, black glasses down the tip of her nose and asks, “Did you try some of the breathing exercises we discussed for the anxiety?”

“I did. They helped a lot, thank you.”

We’ve just been through a very heavy session of counseling, which involved a discussion about what happened to me. It’s the first time I’ve really been able to open up. I’m exhausted and could sleep for a week, but I feel lighter. She’s not repulsed by some of the things I’ve done. All she wants to do is help me understand that none of it was my fault, and I can have a life again. I’m still really jumpy, and there have been times when Gawain has shouted at something, and I’ve thrown myself to my knees before him, trying to placate his temper as I would have done for M. I have to learn to be my own person again and not a slave. It’s almost an impossible task, but a battle I’m determined to win.

“I’d like you to try them again this week, and also, I think it might be good to start keeping a diary of your thoughts. It doesn’t have to be anything spectacular, just write them down in a cheap notebook. The point is recording your thoughts as they happen. It will help you center them and work through the emotions they cause you.”

“I’ll ask Gawain to get me a notebook…” I hesitate, knowing the man in question is outside the door. His lips accidentally meeting mine has been on my mind since it happened. I was shocked at first. It scared me to have a man that close to me again, even for the briefest of moments, but afterward when I sat in my room with my fingers still resting on my lips, it became clear to me that I’d liked it. “Do you think I’ll be able to enjoy physical love again?”

My counselor tilts her head and smiles back warmly. “Please don’t worry about it. I can’t say yes for certain, but you’re a lot stronger as a person than you give yourself credit for. It’ll take time, and you must let yourself heal, but I don’t see why you can’t be capable of love of all kinds again.”

“But I hate all men,” I reply just as the alarm to end our sessions sounds. Gawain must hear it because he instantly opens the door and comes into the room before my counselor can answer.

“Everything ok?” He helps me to my feet, and I allow him.

“Yes. Just a bit tired.”

“Thank you.” He nods to the counselor and holds his arm out for me to take. I turn back to my counselor, and she has the biggest smile on her face.

“Do you really hate all men?” she mouths at me, and I take Gawain’s arm and allow him to lead me from the room. I’m full of confusion at her silent words, but I’m sure they’ll fall into place and make sense soon.

“I was thinking it’s a nice day, and I wondered if you’d like to ride back to the house on my bike? I had Bors bring it down and wait around, so he can either take the truck or the bike depending on what you decide. We could go via the coast and have a picnic on the beach?” We emerge into the daylight from the counselor’s office. The warmth of the summer sun hits my skin, and I feel excited to spend time outside.

“I’d like that. Will we be safe?”

“I’ve asked for Bors to stay with us just in case you decide you don’t like the bike. He’s in between jobs, at the moment, so he has time. He can keep a look out for any trouble. I want you to feel relaxed.”

“Thank you.”

Gawain leads me over to his bike, and Bors hands me a helmet.

“Just make sure he sticks to the speed limits. If he gets another speeding ticket, Arthur is likely to kick his ass,” the giant of a man with a full beard, teases.

Gawain straddles the bike, and Bors helps me onto the back of it. I wrap my hands around Gawain’s waist and hold tightly. I’ve never been on a bike before, and he gives me instructions via microphones built into our helmets. Eventually, he turns the engine on, and with a loud roar, we speed out into the New Orleans’s traffic.

“Oh my god,” I scream as we weave through the traffic and down toward the sea.

“Is that good or bad?” Gawain asks.

“Good. This is amazing,” I shout back. We reach the Lake Pontchartrain Causeway, and Gawain twists the throttle harder. He’s breaking the speed limit, and he’s likely to get into trouble, but I don’t care. This is the single most exhilarating moment of my life. I thrust my head back and allow the wind to blow over my face. The roar of the engine mixed with the sense of freedom make me feel like I’m flying.

Eventually, we slow, and Gawain pulls into a secluded picnic spot. Bors parks up behind us and hands over a basket before he disappears back into the truck, and heavy metal music blares out so loudly I wonder if he’s deaf.

The clearing we’ve found is empty of anyone else. It’s just Gawain and me. I follow him to a table, and he starts to lay out the food that was contained in the basket. I stand up to help, but he orders me to sit back down.

“I can help, you know.”

He waves his hand at me.

“You might put the food in the wrong place.”

“Er…OCD much.” I lean back and raise an eyebrow at him.

“Not really. Evelyn told me how I need to lay this meal out for you, and you can bet your bottom dollar, Bors will be taking pictures of how I do it to send to Kay.”

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