Recap

Abby met Harley, a survivor, who invited her along to a sexual assault survivors meeting.
Bernie met a big time designer and is now deciding what path she wants to take and this point in her life.
Abby and Flynn are not talking at the moment but are on good terms.

Even though I was recovering, doing well and progressing, there were some triggers that were harder to kick.

Like nerves and anxiety, they killed my appetite and made it impossible to eat. Not that, that was a trait exclusive to eating disorders. But it was a fine line to walk.

Skipping meals and getting into the habit of rejecting food opened up doors to that familiar feeling of achievement in the worst sort of way.

That was how I used to feel when I went three days straight without eating more than a piece of toast. When I was so hungry that it hurt, I was happy, because I knew that I was making progress.

Associating hunger with happiness was so ingrained within me, it was hard to redefine those emotions and I was still working on it.

Occasionally, when I was beginning to get hungry before dinner, there was a brief— super brief— moment where I felt that default sense of relief and it scared the hell out of me.

"Abby," Max said from beside me.

We were eating breakfast at the table and I figured he'd finally noticed that I'd been stirring oatmeal around my bowl for the last fifteen minutes.

Today was Wednesday, Harley and I were going to the support group meeting and to sayI was nervous, was an understatement.

Which was ridiculous because I'd shared my entire story, in detail, on national television.

"Yeah?" I said to Max.

His knee bounced under the table and when I finally looked at him, he was pale. Without another word, he put a little velvet box on the table.

Inside, was a ring. A beautiful white gold band with an enormous square diamond sitting in between claws that were encrusted with micro sized jewels. It was glittering in the morning sunlight.

"It's too soon," he said. "Right? It is. Is it?"

"I mean, when is it the right time to propose to your sister? I'm not saying yes to incest."

He pinched the bridge of his nose.

"So, wow," I said, picking up the box. It was a beautiful ring. "You're going to propose? That's huge. Like, a ring and all. I mean, I know Luc proposed to Mills in his own weird way but she refuses to refer to him as her fiancé until she gets a ring."

"Am I insane?"

"I don't know," I slid the ring box back. "No. I guess not. Not if you love her."

"I do," he wore a small thoughtful smile. "It's barely been one year since we started dating but I just. . . I can't stop thinking about how right it would feel. You know?"

"You're such a romantic. I'm not actually surprised to be honest. I wondered when you'd decide to pop the question. I can't imagine she'd say no."

He smiled and snapped the ring box closed, slipping it into his pocket.

"How are you going to ask?"

"Haven't thought that far ahead," he rested his elbows on the table top. "I've got ideas and that sort of thing but I haven't decided on anything official."

"Get it tattooed somewhere. And then ask her to give you a tattoo and it'll already be there."

It was a joke but he raised a brow as if he was giving it some serious thought.

"Are you going to ask her dad for permission?"

He nodded. "Yeah of course. He hints at it all the time, tells me I should make a wife of his daughter already. I'm sure he'll be on board."

"Mom is going to flip."

"In a good way?"

"Duh."

His eyes moved down to my breakfast. "You okay?"

"I'm just nervous about this meeting this morning."

His eyes slowly fell shut and he winced. "I'm sorry, Abby. I forgot that was this morning. And here I was talking about proposing to my girlfriend and—"

"Max," I sighed and stood up, heading into the kitchen so that I could scrape out my full bowl of oatmeal into the trash. "The world doesn't revolve around me, alright? Besides, hearing about your proposal was exactly what I needed, the perfect distraction."

He twisted in his seat and watched me. "How are you feeling about the meeting?"

"I'm fine," I said. "I mean, I'm nervous but it's not like I'm being forced to go. I want to go. So apart from a few nerves, I'm good."

I gave him a convincing smile as I slipped my cellphone out of my shorts and checked a text message.

Remember you don't have to share anything today, hope you're not too nervous. See you in a bit. H.

Like he'd said he would be, Harley was at the front of the library, standing next to the sliding doors which were covered in a collage of popular books.

He was taller than I remembered him being, and lean.

He leaned against the wall with his hands in the pockets of his cargo pants, a long sleeve was fit on his frame and hinted at defined muscle.

"Hey," he smiled when he saw me and straightened up. "How's it going?"

"Good. How are you?"

He shrugged and we walked inside, the smell of books and clean wood surrounded us, the staircase upstairs was painted with the spines of old novels and the atmosphere was peaceful.

"I'm not bad," he said. "Same old for now. I'm always sort of solemn before a meeting but I feel a lot better after I leave."

I smiled and looked around as he led us down a short off shoot corridor where there were a couple of smaller lounge areas with computers and beanbags.

There were about five people seated, some were chatting, some sat quietly. A woman in her thirties who must have been leading the meeting, beamed when Harley and I approached and slid into some empty chairs in the circle.

"Nice to see you, Harley," she said and then she looked at me. "Hi, I'm Ruth."

"Abby," I said.

"Oh, I know," she tucked a strand of her thick black hair behind her ear. "I would say most of us have seen your victim impact statement by now. It's making the rounds online and personally, I've watched it a few hundred times. It's powerful."

The attention made me blush, not at all how I used to react to the spotlight. Of course I'd never had attention for something like this before. It was different.

A few more people trickled in after that and then Ruth opened the floor to sharing. I listened carefully to each story, the bravery behind the words and the honest vulnerability. Some people passed, not ready to open up. I understood that too.

Harley was up next, he gave a small wave before tousling his hair and fidgeting in his seat. Nervous.

"Hey, I'm Harley," he said.

As had been done with each person before him, the group said "hey, Harley."

"I'm a survivor from the age of nine."

It still shocked me to hear that.

"My older brother's best friend started assaulting me when he was sixteen. He uh, he used to come into my room when Danny, my brother, was asleep."

Harley stared at his lap, twisting a worn leather bracelet between his fingers.

"He used to tell me that I was gay, he could tell I was gay and he wanted to help me figure it out. He made it sound super logical, like the things he was doing to me were a lesson. If I touch you here, see how that feels, it's nice right? I didn't even know what sex was at that age. He told me we couldn't tell anyone because my family wouldn't understand, that sort of thing."

He exhaled, blowing the strands of hair on his forehead.

"I remember watching something on TV one night, a crime show of some sort that was dealing with sexual assault cases and everything they were saying, it stirred me. I was like, that's me, I'm one of those kids but I still didn't fully understand what about it was so uncomfortable and wrong. I just knew I had to tell someone. An adult. I heard that a lot on the show. Tell an adult.

"I tried to tell my mom but it was harder than I expected. Like, I was embarrassed to tell her about such personal things. I didn't want to talk about my penis and butt with her. We just. . . didn't talk about those parts of ourselves out loud.

"So I told Danny and he beat the shit out of me for lying."

My hand flew to my mouth and Harley looked at me, a slight nod conveying that he knew how horrific it was.

"At the time, I wish I'd said nothing because it opened this can of worms that I didn't think was worth it. My mom and dad believed Danny over me, they told me to quit starting drama. Said it wasn't funny to tell lies like that. The one I remember most came from my dad. Boys don't get raped, Harley."

"Danny's friend was still allowed to come to our house, he never touched me again. But sometimes I'd catch him staring, like he wanted to smack me. I couldn't stand being touched after that. By my parents, friends, no one.

"Eventually I got older, stood up for myself and told my parents it was fucked up that no one ever believed me. I left home, came here and moved in with my grandma who's been supporting my healing ever since. I've never had a relationship, I haven't been able to stomach letting someone near me and I don't know if I ever will. But I'm on the right road now and the fact that there's a light at the end of the tunnel, keeps me alive."

The group claps and I join in, my heart aching for a small Harley who was broken before he had the chance to really live.

"Thank you for sharing," Ruth said. "I think the fact that you told someone as a child is so brave. You know, kids have such a hard time distinguishing what's normal and not normal when it comes to sex, especially when our parents have never taken the time to teach boundaries. And so, it's really easy for children to become conditioned and totally lose sight of that clear line in the sand. But you knew something was wrong and you voiced that. You're very strong, Harley. You're a survivor."

He gives her a brief nod and his shoulders drop, as if the nervous tension has left him.

When it comes to me, I take a deep breath and share my story.

After the meeting, Harley and I walk down the street, slow and in no rush, unlike the rest of the New Yorkers buzzing past us.

"Thank you for taking me to that," I said. "I used to think the concept of a share circle was sort of weird and ineffective. But then I went to rehab and we had to do it a lot. It felt good to be in that environment again. You know, being able to relate to people."

"Especially when it comes to something you feel so alone in?" He asks.

I look up at his understanding smile. "Yeah. I guess it's easy to forget how many other people are going through the same thing when it's not a subject most people openly discuss all the time."

"That's true. That's the beauty of group meetings, feeling understood, knowing other people just. . . get it."

"I'd like to keep going," I said and squinted at the sun hitting a stretch of white pavement, blinding bright.

"You should then," he said and we shared a smile.

A text from Bernie came through then, it said that I needed to go over and see her because she wanted to tell me sonething.

"I might need to head to Philly," I mumbled, tapping out a quick response.

"What's there?"

"My brother's girlfriends little sister," I explained. "Bernie. She designs clothes and I help manage her socials and I don't know, hang out with her. She's such a good person. You probably weren't paying attention to my outfit during the speech I made in court—"

"The pink suit?"

When I looked at Harley, he slipped his hands into his pockets. "It was a good fit. Plus, I've watched the video a few times."

"Right," I said, cheeks warm. "Yeah, well, Bernie made that outfit. She's incredibly talented."

"Damn, she sure is. I would've sworn it was designer. Looked expensive. So that's what you want to do? PR stuff."

"I honestly can't really tell exactly where I'm going with this but I'm having fun figuring it out. I think that's why I really need to be alone right now. I don't want to unintentionally revolve my plans for my future around someone else, not when I've been so thrown off what I always thought the course of my life would be."

Harley didn't respond for a while, we carried on down the footpath, weaving through other people, feeling mid morning sun on our skin.

"I think that's super mature," he said after a quiet minute. "You're doing what's best for you. You're the only person who can find out what that is. Self care is underrated, half the time, people are too busy worrying about how to please the rest of the world."

"You get it," I said. I didn't need his validation but it was still nice to have the understanding anyway.

Harley walked me to the train station and promised we'd see each other again soon. When I got to Bernie's, I went straight in.

Her bedroom was thick with the aroma of spice and I found her at her desk eating chilli. It smelled hot and delicious. With full cheeks, she smiled and bounced out of her seat.

"Gesh what," she said, quickly swallowing her mouthful of food. "I came up with a brand name."

"Ooh," I said excitedly and sat on the edge of the bed, pieces of silk fabric were slippery under my butt. "Let's hear it. By the way, that outfit is super cute."

She'd made overalls out of pink denim, spaghetti straps sat on her shoulders and she had a white t-shirt on under it.

"Oh, thanks," Bernie waved her hands in the air excitedly and spun in circles a few times.

This girl amused the heck out of me, she physically could not keep her own body under control when she got excited about something.

"Okay, okay, okay. I didn't have time to make a big extravagant presentation because I was so excited, I had to tell you as soon as I thought of it. But okay, here it is," she stood bean pole straight, her entire body humming. "Valor."

Her Spanish accent rolled the word off her tongue and it sounded beautiful.

"Valor," I tested it out, copying her pronunciation. "I like that. It's nice."

"Do you know what it means?" Bernie asked, her deep dimples framing her smile.

"Uh, no."

"It's Spanish for Courage," she said and I felt a little chill. "Because my dad had courage when he moved his two daughters to a new country. Amalia had courage when she helped him raise me. It's going to take courage to pursue this dream of mine. And you had courage, when you told the world your story, Abby."

"Bernie," I said, feeling a rush of pride. This girl was going places, there was no doubt about it.

A mind like hers could change the world, her heart could save it.

"That's beautiful," I said, emotion rushing through me. "It's perfect. Valor, by Bernie Delgado. Ugh, I can't wait to see that on billboards."

Bernie flailed her arms and bounced from foot to foot.

Suddenly she became still and more solemn. "But I have decided not to expand right now. I'll keep doing Instagram orders and that sort of thing but I'm going to hold off on full scale until I'm a bit older.

"I totally support that."

My phone started ringing, it was Max.

"Hey?"

"Hey, are you going to be home soon?" Max asked. "I'm not sure how long the meeting goes for, I hope I'm not interrupting."

"Oh, the meeting is over. I'm in Philly with Bernie. What's up?"

"Oh, damn. Okay. Wanna head home? We have a visitor."

Bernie was shovelling chilli into her mouth and tilted her head when she saw the confusion on my face.

"Who?"

"Dad's cousin, Lucy."

_

Lucy's here! If you're not sure who she is, Lucy is the cousin of Drayton. Uncle Noah's daughter.

If you want to read Lucy's story, it's free, complete and over on my profile.

Lucy Lahey is in the after math of rape, suffering the loss of identity, self worth and hope. To top it off, her mother has no idea how to cope with Lucy's new, uncontrollable behaviour and sends her to live with her dad, Noah, who hasn't been around as much as a father should.

Together, Noah and Lucy navigate a new situation, teach each other valuable life lessons and find a bond stronger than either of them expected.