Page 118 of Deliverance

I’m starting to believe it with the help of Ariel. Our first few sessions, we definitely did not see eye to eye.

“Is this why…why you tried to kill yourself?” Brad strains.

I wince, looking down at my hands.

“I didn’t know any other way out.”

“Me,” Brad says, “I’m the way out. Maggie is the way out. We are your family, Bridgette. We are here to be in your corner, to be your getaway drivers. We are here to protect you at all costs,” he says, as Maggie nods her head in agreement.

“Thank you,” I whisper, my vision going blurry as tears begin to fall.

“You don’t thank me for that,” Brad says, pulling me into his arms as I sob. “We’re here. I’m here. I’m not going anywhere,” he says as he presses a kiss to the side of my head, squeezing me tighter like he has the power to take every bad memory away.

I wish he could.

My eyes come to Maggie over Brad’s shoulder, a look of pain and empathy on her face. I give her a weak smile, and she returns it, reaching out to rub my back as she nods. I’ve been so relieved my father hasn’t touched me since October, but that hasn’t stopped Thomas. I know I’m stronger than that, that I’m a fighter. I just never thought I had anything worth fighting for.

I do now, though, and I’m not going to let them take one more goddamn thing from me.

Chapter Forty Two

Maggie

Yesterday was filled with so many tears. Once we finished Bridgette’s therapy session, we went back to my place. Brad wanted to come, but you could tell Bridgette wanted to drop it for now and he wasn’t prepared to do that. We thought he’d exhausted all his questions but would continue to dig deeper the longer he thought about it. I understand his need to fully comprehend the onslaught of new information, because fuck knows I do too, but he has to give her time. Her allowing us to sit in on her session today, sharing all of her secrets and vulnerabilities, it has to have been so hard.

We’re snuggled in bed as I run my fingers through her hair when she looks at my t-shirt.

“What are the marks from?” she asks.

I stiffen for a second.

“What marks, baby?”

Her hand lifts up, brushing against my inner arm. I pull away and she frowns.

“I know they’re new. I know your body inside and out, Maggie. I first noticed them…a little bit ago. Are you…did you do this to yourself?”

I wince, shaking my head, which only further deepens her frown.

“Then what happened?”

She cracked her chest wide open today, and showed me every inch of her messy heart. She trusted me in a way you could only dream of being trusted by another human. Technically, I don’t owe anyone anything, but I want to give her this piece.

“Last fall, when Harry walked in on Maryia and I at Putnam manor…”

“I remember.” Bridgette nods.

I swallow. “He took me back to the house, down to the cellar, and tied me to a chair. He told me that I was sick. That he could cure me, fix me.”

“What did he do?” she asks, her voice just above a whisper.

“He called it therapy,” I say, shaking my head to clear the rising memories. “It felt more like torture.”

“Maggie,” Bridgette gasps.

“Burns, hits, electric shocks. There isn’t a thing he didn’t try. I’m ashamed to admit, it almost started to work. He used Maryia specifically as an example, and when I first saw her on Christmas Eve after so long, I was kind of…scared.”

Bridgette watches me with rapt attention as she nods, allowing me the space I need. We both stay quiet for several minutes before she hesitantly speaks.

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