Page 174 of Doubts & Fears

“What made you feel as if you didn’t fit in with the sexual abuse survivors?”

“Because I’m not one, Dr. Marcel. I really am still a virgin. Alek was the first man to ever kiss or touch me, well, intimately, anyway. So sex abuse survivor isn’t the right term, and it wasn’t the right space.”

“What term would you use to describe your experience?”

He sat forward, tension seeping into his body. I loved how he was able to pick up what I was laying down. It was one of the things I loved about talking to him.

It’s now or never.

I took a deep breath, and here it was, the beginning. If I could get the next words out, who knew how far I’d eventually be able to go? I knew he ached to ask me how I was touched, if not intimately. It only left one other option. The realization was there in his eyes. No wonder the guys sang his praises.

Deep in my heart, I realized part of the reason I lingered was because of him too. I wanted so badly to rid myself of the pain holding me hostage inside. He could bear it, I knew he could. At that moment, sitting with him, I knew I’d been given a blessing. He was a shelter to me, in some similar ways as Owen had been.

“Groom…grooming and exploit…” I sobbed, unable to put it into words because it went so much deeper than that.

If I had to be honest, though, grooming and sexual exploitation were high on the fucked-up childhood chart for me. I had detached myself from it. I knewwhat was supposed to happen, but it never ended up being my reality. But those thoughts only made me feel guilty because it happened to X and other girls. I’d witnessed it.

What I really wanted to talk about was the isolation and sheer devastation that came with losing my season sisters. To open my mouth and express the terror and fear the men who ruined my life instilled in me. I wanted to unburden myself and share how crippling my anxiety had been, wondering if I’d screw up again and get beaten.

Or maybe I’d forget a rule or do something to anger them. That this time maybe they’d kill me, and then the guilt for wanting that outcome. Those were the things I longed to share, but the words were sealed inside me. I wanted to open my heart to Dr. Marcel and tell him the physical abuse and resulting fear were far more crippling than being groomed and exploited.

It was the reason I’d been able to trust the Kings. Never once did they make me feel afraid. Ivan could bellow, Alek could bark, and Nik could seethe, but I knew they’d never physically lay hands on me in anger. Call it a sixth sense, but I knew.

“Ms. Taylor, I wonder if you know the definition of Stockholm syndrome.”

“I do, and I can assure you with everything inside me, Ineverfelt that. Not a day in my life did I ever feel trust or affection for…Krasnyy,” I exclaimed, invoking my safeword.

I wheezed, and panic seared my chest. Sucking in as much air as I could, I shook uncontrollably. Tears streamed down my face, and that sense of desperation and hopelessness engulfed me.

His voice rang out clear and sharp. “Ms. Taylor.”

I sprang to my feet, and despite how foolish it was, I presented myself to him as though he were one of my captors. It was an automatic response, not done out of fear. “Yes, Sir,” I said, my voice shaking as hard as my body was.

“Dear god in heaven, what happened to you? Where are the guys? Who is home with you now?”

“Only Charles, Sir. Death Squad business,” I answered quickly, praying that I was saying and doing the right thing.

The struggle was real as the rational part of my brain tried reminding me that this was Marcel, but despite that knowledge, I hyperventilated. He wasn’t even in the same state.

There wasn’t in immediate threat of danger. I didn’t know how he knew what to do, but he sang, slightly off-key, but it was more his song choice than anything. My therapist, a man I had never met in person, started singing “Amazing Grace.”

In that moment, I broke, the words washing over me in waves. I joined him, and our voices intertwined, weaving us together magically. I was reminded that grace was the most beautiful thing a person could give. It first came in the form of my parents and Pasha. Then my season sisters, Owen, and then my Kings.

And now here was a man who had no obligation to me, and he’d added his name to my list. We finished the song, and our connection solidified in a deeper way. A soul tie had been formed, and from the look on his face, he sensed it too.

He looked like the shaken one now, and I whispered, “Thank you.”

He nodded and cleared his throat. “Ms. Taylor, will you be okay now if I disconnect? I need…I need—”

“I’m good, Sir. I promise. You’ve done your job for the day. I’ll strive to be more focused and prepared for our next session.”

“If you’re sure?”

“I am. I’d tell you if I wasn’t. I was planning on baking today. It always helps me process things. I’ll be fine. I’m making a cake for Nik. It’s his night.”

“Then I’ll let you get to it. You are to call me if anything upsets you. Is that understood?”

“Yes, Sir.”

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