Page 5 of Amethyst

I have a new calling now. I want to work with women like me. Women who have been abused, tortured, raped.

Trafficked.

I want to help them heal.

And I don’t want to wait through eight years of school to do it, so I’ll do what I can while I get my education. I’ll begin by volunteering, taking some night classes, getting a degree in psychology or counseling. Maybe I’ll go all the way through med school. I’m starting late, but I have many years ahead of me.

I sigh.

My room looks the same, right down to the poster of Justin Timberlake on the wall. It’s a little faded now.The Color Purplestill sits on my bookshelf. We’d just finished reading it in English class, and I had marked sections to begin my book report the Sunday after prom. My pink terrycloth robe still hangs on the back of the door.

It’s both a comfort and a horrible reminder of what I was snatched from.

I can’t decide if I love it or hate it.

The bed feels the same—every mattress lump in the same spot that I remember. Not surprising, since no one has slept on this mattress since the night before I was taken. Mom told me.

“It’s funny,” she said to me, driving home from the airport. “I had just started to plan what to do with your room. Now I’m glad I didn’t.”

“I won’t stay home forever, Mom.”

“We know that, sweetie,” Dad said. “But you are welcome to stay as long as you need. We’re just so thankful to have you back in one piece.”

In one piece?

Literally, those words are true.

But in reality? I’m not the same person I was.

I’ve been broken and glued back together. Some parts of me will never be whole again, but as we learned in therapy, we will grow new parts that will take those places.

I’m not one of the women who can forget. Some of them were able to blot out what happened to them, compartmentalize it.

Not me.

I will always remember.

Even if I don’t want to. And I’ll always look over my shoulder. I’ll do whatever I must to make sure I’m never in a vulnerable position again.

“Max would like to see you.”

My mother’s voice jars me out of my thoughts. She stands in my doorway, my father behind her.

“I’m sorry,” she says. “I didn’t mean to startle you, but your door was open.”

She’s right. My bedroom door is open. I don’t ever want to be locked anywhere again. We all had our own rooms on the island, and they were smaller than my bedroom, but I don’t want to be trapped in any enclosed space. Getting on a plane to come home was enough for a lifetime.

“It’s okay. I just startle easily.” I force a smile. “But I’m getting better. I’m not afraid all the time anymore.” Only about half the time, but it’s a start. “So…Max?”

“Yeah. He’s on his way. I can call him and tell him not to come if you’re not ready.”

Max.

Maximillian Sebastian Robinson. I smile at the thought of his name. I used to give him all kinds of shit about what a mouthful it was.

We were inseparable for so many years, until high school, when our interests diverged. He became a soccer jock and I… Well, I had a boyfriend for the first three years. Still, we never let our friendship suffer even though we were no longer joined at the hip.

My God…

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