Page 61 of Norah

I think back to the old memories I had hidden away before I met Ethan. And the dark voice that told me I deservednothinggood. I shoved the terrible memories into a box deep inside, never thinking I’d ever escape them.

Until Ethan. Until he helped me face the things I wished I could forget, and I came out stronger because of it. Until I forced the dark voice away and listened to Ethan when he told me I was worthy of love. This whole time, he’s been here with me, making me whole.

The connection we have is beyond just one of us. Whatever affects one affects both. I realize that by keeping the truth to myself, I’m not protecting Ethan; instead, I’m hurting him.

This is something I have to do.I love Ethan more than life, and I owe him the truth. So I take a deep breath, and begin.

I tell him about coming home, sensing that something was wrong. About the oily scent that warned me of something bad. I allow myself to revisit the events of that day, despite the sick feeling growing inside of me. I talk about the conversation with Simon in the bedroom, when I made him tell me the truth about his plans to kill me.

As I explain why I decided to jump out the window, Ethan grips my hand so hard it hurts. His eyes fill with tears while I share how I felt before leaping to what I thought was inevitable death.

As I recall the despair I felt, believing I’d never see Ethan again, I have to stop. It’s too much, the memory too painful. I bury my head against Ethan’s chest as I struggle to reign in the surge of emotions, and when I finally pull back, his shirt is wet with my tears.

Ethan is visibly upset, his cheeks wet, as he asks, “Do you want to take a break? We don’t have to talk about everything at once if it’s too hard.”

Even though it hurts, I just want to get through it. I shake my head and say, “No, I want to keep going. It’ll be worse if I drag it out.” He hugs me and presses kisses to my head. His embrace makes me feel safe and gives me the courage to keep speaking. After a few calming breaths, I’m able to return to the pavement, and the pain I felt when I hit the ground. Recalling the broken bones and many cuts has Ethan wincing along with me, and I squeeze his hand to comfort him.

The run to the alley isn’t too hard to talk about, not compared to what comes next. It’s the memory of getting to the alleyway and searching for a weapon, then awaiting Simon’s arrival, that really affects me.

I can remember so vividly the gut wrenching fear and terrified anticipation, knowing I’d likely fail but needing to at least try to attack. It feels like I’m back there, scared and in pain, but determined not to go down without a fight. I don’t even realize I’m hyperventilating until Ethan shakes me, bringing me back to the present with a jolt.

“God, Norah,” he grits out, “Baby, just take a breath.” He grabs hold of my face and forces me to look at him. “Keep your eyes on me. Remember, you’resafe. You’re right here with me, and what you’re remembering is over.You’re safe.I promise.”

It takes a few minutes for me to calm down enough to keep going. I’m determined to get to the end of my story, to tear open the festering wound that’s trapping the sickening memories. I’m filled with a sense of pride when I talk about stabbing Simon with the railing, knowing I could surprise him, to hurt him. Simon had thought I’d be an easy kill, and I’m proud of myself for fighting so hard. When I meet Ethan’s eyes, I can see that he’s proud of me, too.

I have to pause and brace myself for the last part. The part when Simon hit me, hurt me, tried to kill me. It’s hard to think about it, and I know it’ll be just as bad, if not worse, for Ethan. I know it’s been killing him, knowing that someone hurt me, and he wasn’t there to stop it.

I don’t blame him- Icouldn’tblame him for a situation that was beyond his control. Simon came there to kill me, and I made the choice to run. None of it was Ethan’s fault. He got there as fast as he could, and hesavedme. But in Ethan’s mind, he feels like he failed, and I’m not sure how to convince him otherwise. Not only am I scared to revisit Simon’s brutal attack, I’m also worried about how it will affect Ethan.

“This next part is the worst,” I warn Ethan in a low voice. “I’m sorry.”

He looks at me, jaw tight, and tugs me into his lap. His arms wrap around me, pulling me close to his chest. I tuck my head under his chin and listen to the soothing rhythm of his heart beating. A minute passes as I gather my courage, then I close my eyes as I pull the last of the memories out of hiding.

In a whisper, I tell Ethan the rest. About Simon throwing me into the wall, hitting me, hurting me. About Simon’s cruel smile as he tortured me. I talk about the furious pain gnawing its way through my body, and my desperate attempt to fight back one more time. And as much as I dread it, I promised Ethan the whole truth, even the parts I know will upset him the most. So I tell him how Simon touched me, feeling sick at the memory.

Ethan stiffens, arms tense around me, and his breathing gets fast. I can feel him swallowing rapidly, my cheek against his neck. Wanting to get to the end, I push forward, words spilling from my mouth. I recall Simon’s teeth at my neck, the searing pain, and then a blackness I was sure meant death. Then back to semi-consciousness, the pain mixed with numbness, halfway between life and death.

Finally, Ethan finding me, helping me heal. Realizing I wasn’t going to die, that I could stay with him. When I stutter to a stop, my face is soaked and my eyes are sore and swollen. We sit for a minute without speaking, while I fight to contain my sobs. Now that the memories are exposed, I’m overwhelmed by the rush of emotions they brought.

I’m not aware of the movement at first until it grows stronger and more insistent. Only then do I realize that I’m shaking, but it’s not coming from me. The movement is coming from Ethan, his whole body trembling as he cries. His face presses into my hair, and I can feel the wetness of his tears as they soak through the strands. His heart is racing, and I can hear sharp gasps as he struggles to contain his anguished sobs. We cling to each other, two shipwrecked survivors in a storm, riding the waves to the shore.

Intimacy

ETHAN

Things are slowly getting better.

They’re not back to normal; we’re not there yet, but weareon the right path. In the two days since Norah told me everything, it has lifted a weight off her shoulders. She’s still dealing with the trauma of the attack; I know that may never go away entirely. There are still moments of panic at unexpected noises, times when the memories become overwhelming, but the frequency is decreasing.

And Norah isn’t trying to pretend that everything is fine anymore. When she’s upset, she comes to me instead of hiding her feelings. Now that the truth of what happened is out in the open, it’s helping Norah to heal.

I won’t pretend that all the things she told me don’t haunt me. No matter what Norah says, I will always feel guilt for not being there. I’m supposed to always protect her, and I didn’t. But we talked about it last night, and both agreed that there’s no point in looking back.

Norah said we should take the good parts of our pastwithus, but leave the bad parts behind where they belong. I know it won’t be easy, but whatever it takes to keep Norah safe and happy, I’ll do it without hesitation.And I’ll never let anyone hurt her ever again.

“Ethan, come look at this apartment.” Norah’s sitting on the couch with the laptop in front of her. She waves me over from where I’ve been sitting at the kitchen counter, staring at a newspaper, wrapped up in my thoughts. Her face is lit up with enthusiasm, and it gives my heart a little happy twinge to see her eyes sparkling again.

“Which one is this? The one in Chelsea?” I sit down next to her and peer at the screen.

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