Page 40 of Kiss Me Honey Hone

“Not physically.”

The lecture theatre had filled up now, most of the seats taken. Kenny’s lectures did that. Dr Kenneth Lyons could persuade anyone to fall out of bed on a Monday morning.Could persuade me to stay in it too.But that was for a whole other reason. Kenny had the pull of students’ attendance records because of his delivery. His charisma. The ability to command a room full of those nursing hangovers and heartbreak to listen to what he had to say. Maybe it was the content. Dysfunctional behaviour. The dark corners of the human mind. His expertise in assessing people and why they did what they did—my mother. Or the way he wove real-life cases he’d been part of into his lectures. But Aaron knew it wasn’tallthat. It was hispresence. And Aaron stared at the clock above the whiteboard, its second hand counting down to nine, pulse ticking with it, sharp and steady, until it skipped, stuttered, and faltered at the thought of Kenny walking through and proving that hedidfeel.

Helplessly so.

But the second hand hit the twelve, and the podium remained as empty as Aaron’s heart.

“What happened?”

“When?”

“At the party. Taylor said you just left. He rang to ask if you were at mine.”

Aaron should probably tell her what happened. Leaving out the Kenny stuff. But he should probably admit he’d been roofied. That he suspected Max to have been the one to slip it in his drink, whether forhisgain or Taylor’s. But if he did that, there would be a dozen more questions. And Aaron didn’t want it all getting back tothemwith the satisfaction they’d actually affected him. For all they knew, he’d had enough and left. They hadn’t seen him fighting for his vision. Trying to make his legs get him up the alleyway. Hadn’t seen him at his most vulnerable. Not like the bloke before had and taken full advantage. He’d told himself never, ever let anyone see him like that again. Never let anyone touch him without permission. And don’t, under any circumstances, show weakness.

“I just had enough of their bullshit,” Aaron said. “Took myself back to London. Stayed with a mate.”

“So you and Taylor are over?”

Aaron scribbled a meaningless doodle on his paper. “Yeah.”

“Are you going to tell him that?”

“Eventually. When I see him.”

“Shame.” Mel peeked up when the doors at the front slammed open. “He’s hot.”

Despite Aaron knowing Mel was referring to Taylor, his stomach still flipped when a figure strode into the theatre and marched to the front because if anyone was hot, it would be that man. And Aaron kept his eyes down on his paper, a slight smirk. He wouldn’t look. Wouldn’t break first.

The game is on.

“Good morning, class.”

Aaron looked then. Because that voice didn’t belong to Kenny.

“I’m Vinnie Rothman, PhD student. Dr Lyons has asked me to fill in today.” He used his remote clicker to open the presentation on the screen. “Today, we’re going a little off topic so I can talk to you about my research and delve into a topic that’s often overlooked in discussions about violence and criminal behaviour. Survivor impact.”

He clicked to the first slide, displaying a haunting image of an empty swing in a dimly lit park. The title above it read,Scars That Never Fade: The Long Shadow of Trauma.

And off he went, this young twenty-something, rolling through his presentation, delivering the lecture Kenny had told Aaron he had to be here for. Where the fuck was he? Aaron slipped his phone out of his pocket, checking for any message. Nothing. So he composed one himself.

Cheat

Sending it to Kenny, he resigned himself to listening to this dullard.

“Survivors are often heralded as strong, resilient. Proof of human endurance in the face of unimaginable adversity. But we rarely stop to consider the cost of survival.” Vinnie paced, obviously loving the sound of his own voice. “The psychological toll can be immense, sometimes warping their ability to trust, to love, to experience intimacy.”

Okay, Aaron was a little more interested than he first thought he would be.

“Trauma isn’t just something survivors leave behind. It becomes part of them, shaping their worldview, their relationships, their very identity. Many struggle with feelings of unworthiness or anger, which can manifest in self-destructive behaviours. For some…” He gestured to the screen, which shifted to a graphic of overlapping circles labelledSurvivor Guilt, Hypervigilance, and Isolation.“…it can lead to actions that harm others.”

Aaron’s interest piqued.

“Survivor guilt is a particularly insidious form of trauma. Imagine surviving something catastrophic. A disaster, an assault, or even an encounter with a violent criminal, while others didn’t. The burden can erode the survivor’s sense of self. They may start to question why they were spared, and over time, this guilt can metastasise into anger or resentment. Towards themselves. Those who didn’t save them. And sometimes, the world.”

Another slide appeared, this one showing a stark statistic:25% of trauma survivors exhibit aggression in interpersonal relationships.Beneath it was a subtler line:A small percentage exhibit predatory behaviour.

“For a fraction of survivors, trauma doesn’t just isolate. It compels them to reclaim the control they feel was stolen from them. And for those with an already fragile psychological foundation, this can manifest as harm to others. Intimacy, the thing they crave most, becomes a weapon.”

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