Page 46 of Shattered Fate

I look at Jerricka, and she’s wiping tears off her cheeks. “I’m sorry.”

The area between my legs throbs like it happened yesterday, and my stomach lurches. A sheen of sweat covers my skin, and I can smell my fear through the floral scent of my deodorant. I sink onto the couch, my emotional pain settling into my aching muscles.

I force myself to remember Gage’s soft touch, the tender look in his eyes when he rubbed his nose against mine. The way he pet Sansa at dinner, the way he caressed my cheek as I fell asleep. I think of Zane and the way he holds Stella, and I tell myself not all men are bad.

“I’m proud of you for being able to share that with me,” Jerricka says, picking up her tablet again. “How would you feel now if the gentleman you’re seeing wanted to make love to you?”

My answer is immediate. “I wouldn’t be able to.”

“Aren’t you afraid he’ll leave you if you don’t give him what he wants?”

I meet her gaze, and while the words are sharp, her face is passive. I don’t know where she’s going with her line of questioning, but I’m uncomfortable. “I don’t know how long he would wait.”

“If he told you he didn’t want to wait any longer, what would you do?”

The thought of Gage leaving me over sex tears my heart into bloody shreds. “I’m not sure.”

“Would you give it to him anyway? To keep him with you?”

Picturing Gage fucking me even though I didn’t want it is too much, and I scramble to Jerricka’s bathroom and throw up in her toilet. I heave the breakfast Lucille fixed me, the coffee, maybe even some of the drugs Ingrid watched me swallow this morning. I wretch, Gage’s twisted face above me, determined, while he shoves his cock inside me, and I sob into the bowl, tears running down my cheeks, vomit coating my lips and chin.

He wouldn’t do that to me.He wouldn’t.

“Shh, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to go that far.” Jerricka kneels next to me, a damp washcloth in her hand.

It reminds me too much of the morning Ash took care of me after letting a man rape me all night, and I rear back, my body pressing against the wall. “Don’t,” I rasp.

She tilts her head. “Don’t what? Help you clean up? You’re a mess. Let me help you.”

I grab the washcloth and rub the nubby material over my face. “I’m sorry. I’m confused.”

“I know you are, sweetie,” she says, and something about her casual tone shoots apprehension down my spine. “It’s okay. It will be quite some time before you can talk about sex without having such a negative reaction. You have to remember that sex isn’t about love, it’s about power, and rape is one way men choose to dominate and show off that power. That’s all.”

Her words do little to calm me. Every man who paid Ash to hurt me chose to rape me. Sex was their preferred way to dominate, controlling my body, leaving a piece of themselves inside me because they never wore a condom.

Jerricka fills a cup with water at the sink, and I gulp it down. It settles in a cool pool in my quivering stomach. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome. Your session is finished. I think we made good progress today, Zarah, and I’d like to stay with this train of conversation if you think you can handle it.”

I have to handle it. It’s what Zane is paying for, and no one said therapy would be easy.

“Yes, it’s fine.”

“Good.”

She holds out her hand in an offer to help me to my feet, and now that I’m in the right frame of mind, I let her steady me. I drop the wet washcloth into a discreet hamper and follow her out of the bathroom. I want to get out of here as quickly as possible, and I pick my purse up off the floor, slip on my jacket, and tell her a hurried goodbye. I don’t waste time in the sitting room, and I trot to the elevator, not caring what people will think if they see me.

The morning temperature is crisp, and little snowflakes fall from the sky. I sink onto an empty bench and drag deep breaths of the frigid air into my lungs. Purging made me raw, but I’m a little lighter, too. Jerricka didn’t look at me like she stepped in dog crap, and that’s how I feel everyone looks at me behind my back. Like I’m always going to be gross and dirty, not worth anyone’s attention. Like they’ll do anything they can to get away from me so they don’t have to be reminded there are horrible people in the world.

I asked Douglas to start giving me an extra hour after my sessions, and sometimes I find a café, sometimes I walk the street. Sometimes I just sit, like I’m doing now, dissecting our conversation word for word like my tongue jabbing at a sore tooth. I know it hurts, but I can’t stop. I suppose Jerricka would say that’s good, too. That I’m opening myself up so I can heal.

I dig my phone out of my purse and check to see if I have any messages. Stella sent me two hearts. She knows therapy is difficult, and she’s been in and out of a therapist’s office since she escaped Ash’s. She misses her foster mom, Maryanne, and she’s still adjusting to finding her parents.

Gage also texted me.Hey, bum.That’s all the message says, and I don’t know if he wants me to text him back or if he was just saying hi. It’s been a couple of days since we walked the dogs and we didn’t plan to see each other again. I was waiting for him to make the next move. I’ll probably never have enough self-esteem to ask a man out on a date. Not a real one. It’s a nice thought, but I can’t get over feeling stupid about it, or wondering why a man like Gage would want to spend time with a woman like me.

I text back,Hi,and while I wait for him to respond, I chew on a fingernail.

People walk by the bench, some nodding and smiling briefly, some pretending they don’t know who I am. I wish I could make friends. I wish I had people in my life besides Stella and Zane who wanted to, I don’t know, shop and go for coffee. Go to a museum or browse a bookstore. Ingrid and I do things like that, but she’s paid to do it, an arrangement I don’t see going away anytime soon. I like her and don’t want her to go, but I wish I could meet someone who liked being with me for me and not a paycheck.

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