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“Sounds like you had a good time,” she says softly, smiling.
“I did.”
“I’m glad.”
I look away from the window to face the woman in front of me, needing to ask her the one question I’ve been dying to have answered. The guilt has been eating away at me all week. I can’t talk about this with the men in my life, they wouldn’t understand. Milly is Switzerland.
“Can I ask you something?”
“You can ask me anything, Emma.”
“Do you think something is wrong with me for feeling sorry for the person who attacked me?”
Her expression doesn’t change as she drops her cup to the table. “I don’t think anything is wrong with you at all. It just proves what a compassionate young lady you are.” She pauses, watching me intently. “Did something happen? When we booked the meeting, I was under the impression your attacker was in prison.”
“I saw him the other week. At first, I thought I imagined it, but after my cousin looked into it, we found out the same day he had been out for a while. And then, on Wednesday, he was outside of the English building, waiting for me to arrive.”
“Did he hurt you?” she asks quickly, her relaxed, soft expression turning serious, concerned.
“No. He wanted to talk, to apologise, but I called Banner and he came and got me. But… for those fifteen minutes, I didn’t just see my attacker. I saw someone else, someone broken. I felt sorry for him.”
“You’re a remarkable woman, Emma. I’m not saying what you’re feeling is part of the road to forgiveness. People find that in their own way. Nobody is saying you have to forgive your attacker, and in most cases, people don’t. I’ve counselled women who have known their attacker or abuser, found a way to forgive them, and said it helped them move on. Not all incidents are the same though, Emma.”
“I don’t know why I feel this way,” I tell her, rubbing my chest.
“Did he apologise?”
I shrug. “He tried to, but I cut him off. He took everything from me. He might not have forced those drugs down my sister’s throat, but he sold them to her. He knew she was in love with him, too, and he messed her around.”
“And then he attacked you?” she states matter-of-factly.
I nod, staring back outside the window, watching snowflakes float down under the streetlights. “I want to hate him. Idohate him. But I’m so confused, too. A part of me wanted to hear what he had to say, but the other was scared of what he wanted to tell me. I feel like I’m finally moving on with my life. What if he says something I don’t want to hear, and I go back to that dark place?”
“You’ve had a traumatic experience. You lost your sister, you were brutally attacked, and from the notes your therapist sent over, you had to deal with unloving parents. It couldn’t have been easy for you. You’ve already taken that first step to moving on. You should be proud of yourself, Emma.”
“It’s not really an accomplishment,” I state dryly, feeling defensive all of a sudden over her praise.
She lets it sweep over her head. “I disagree. I’d say it’s one of the biggest you could make. You’ve felt that loneliness, that empty feeling in the pit of your stomach, and the desire to end everything just so you can get five minutes of peace. You’ve wanted to keep your mind silent from the constant nightmares running through them. To get from that dark place, to the one you are in right now, I’d say it’s a hell of an accomplishment. Don’t put yourself down.”
My cheeks heat at her scolding. She’s also spot on with her words about the silence. It’s why I tried to overdose after my sister had died and I was attacked. I just wanted it all to end.
I had risen from the sink to find my reflection staring back at me. I didn’t like what I saw; it scared me. Once I realised what I had done, I stuck my fingers down my throat and vomited all the tablets I had taken.
“I just don’t know what to do. Should I hear him out or just ignore the fact I ever saw him?”
She gives me a sad smile. “Only you can answer that, lovely. But you don’t have to decide straight away. Have you spoken to your friend and family about this?”
I shake my head, fiddling with the handle on my cup. “I don’t think they’ll understand. They hate him as much as I do for what he did to me.”
“Because they love you,” she states softly. “What he has to say won’t change what happened in the past. He would still be involved in the events leading up to your sister’s death, and responsible for your attack. What you need to decide is whether whatever he has to say will ease your mind or answer any unspoken questions. And you don’t even need to meet him alone. You could hire a mediator to witness the exchange. And I’m sure your cousin, his boyfriend, or your friend would go with you. But if you don’t feel comfortable with either, I’d be more than happy to come with you.”
“Can I think about it?”
Her eyes soften. “Emma, you can have all the time in the world. You don’t have to find all the answers today.”
“Thank you.”
“My pleasure.” She smiles. “Now, I know you have class in twenty minutes, so we should get moving. Did you drive, or would you like me to drop you off? Since it’s snowing, it might take us a while to get there.”