Page 98 of Lily In The Valley
“Say it,” she said again.
“I needed her to leave,” I admitted. “I needed her to save us. And she didn’t.” There it was. The truth. “I hate that I still want her approval. I hate that she’s gone and I can’t be mad at her.”
“You can grieve someone and still hold them accountable, Kelly. That’s not betrayal. That’s honesty.”
I didn’t know what made me snap first. My own words, the echo of them in my chest, or the way Ms. Reece justsat there,like her calm was supposed to hold me together. But something cracked.
“I don’t want to be here anymore,” I said, voice low and mean. “This is not helping.”
“You don’t mean that,” she said gently.
“I do. I came here to try to move forward, not get dragged back into the past like a damn time capsule of every moment that ever broke me.”
“Then why are you yelling?”
“I’M NOT” I stopped, swallowed the scream halfway out of my throat. My hands were shaking.
Ms. Reece didn’t flinch. She folded her hands in her lap and nodded slowly. “There it is.”
“Therewhatis?”
“The anger you’ve been wrapping in perfection. The fire under all that calm. It’s finally speaking.”
“No,” I snapped. “You don’t get to sit there and act like this is some kind of breakthrough. You don’tknowwhat it was like. Dealing with them. Being dragged in the middle like rope against hot sand.”
“You’re right,” she said. “I wasn’t there. But I’ve met hundreds of women who lived it. Who walked through fire, then told everyone it was just a little warm.”
I stood up. My body felt too tight, too hot. “Don’t patronize me.”
“I’m not,” she said. “But Iamgoing to hold up the mirror. Because you came here for healing, not performance. And healing isn’t quiet. It’s not curated. It’s not polite.”
I clenched my fists at my sides. “Then maybe I’m not ready.”
“Bullshit.”
My head snapped up. I hadn’t expected that. Not from her.
“I call bullshit,” Ms. Reece said again, this time firmer. She stood slowly; her eyes locked on mine. “Youareready. You’ve been ready for years. You’ve just been too afraid to admit that the version of you, the version you built to survive... doesn’t want to survive anymore. She wants tolive.”
I hated that her words hit me like that. Like bricks. Like gospel.
“I don’t know how to let go without falling apart,” I whispered, my voice cracking, timid because the little girl trapped deep down inside was begging for me to fight. Fight for her. Push through for us.
“Then fall,” she said. “And I’ll be right here when you do.”
I shook my head. Tears blurred my vision. “You don’t understand. I’ve held it together for everyone. My whole life. If I let go now, who am I?”
She stepped closer. “You’re someone who deserves to be held.”
That undid me.
I sank to my knees on the cushion again and let the sobs come. They didn’t creep in—theycrashed.Loud, ugly, full-bodied wails. The kind I hadn’t made since I was small and still believed crying would change something.
“I hate them,” I sobbed. “I hate that they made love look like punishment. I hate that I believed it.”
Ms. Reece knelt beside me, her voice low and steady. “You get to be angry, Kelly. You get to rage. You get to scream. You get tofeel.”
I rocked forward, forehead to the floor, exasperated by the session. Ms. Reece let me gather my wits, staying next to me through it all. “I don’t want to carry this anymore.”
