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When the gunshots stop, I lift my head, but I can’t see anything. Rina sobs uncontrollably into her hands, saying I’ve taken away the best thing in her life and that she’ll never forgive me. I don’t care if she can’t as long as I know she’s far away from those Golden Light bastards.

A tap on my shoulder makes me stiffen in pure fear, but then I hear a man’s voice say, “It’s okay now. You’re safe. Are you hurt?”

I gently lift myself off Rina, making sure to keep a hold of her so she can’t run away. Smiling at the officer, I answer, “I think we’re fine. Just a little shaken up.”

As much as I want to know if any of The Golden Light guys were hurt, I’m afraid to ask. He doesn’t offer that information, instead focusing on helping Rina and me to his police car. I’m sure we’re going to have to give statements, although I don’t believe he’ll get much out of my sister. It’s going to take months, at least, to deprogram her of all that Micah Golden Light nonsense.

On our way to the police car, I look around for any sign of Nash, but I don’t see him. The officer helps us into the car and then gets behind the wheel, so I ask, “Was anyone hurt?”

Before he can answer, I see other officers standing in a circle in the road. Craning my neck, I try to see what’s happening, but there are too many men blocking my view.

“What’s happening over there?” I ask the cop as he starts the car.

He looks in his rear view mirror and sighs. “Someone got shot.”

As he puts the car in drive, I scream, “I need to get out! Please open the door! Please!”

The officer turns around to look at me like I’m crazy and shakes his head. “I need to take you to the station to get a statement. When we’re done, you can go home.”

“No! I need to see who got hurt. Please let me out! My friend was on the other side of the street!”

This time, he doesn’t bother to say anything and simply gets out to open my door. I jump out and say, “Don’t take your eyes off her, or she’ll run.”

I don’t wait around for him to reply and sprint toward where the officers stand. I can’t see who it is until I get up close to them. One tries to stop me from seeing who’s on the ground, but I push him away.

“Who is it? I need to know!” I scream.

One of the other officers grabs me by the shoulders to stop me, and I see past him finally. He starts to tell me what happened, but I can’t focus on anything but Nash’s lifeless body there on the sidewalk. My tears make it hard to see anything clearly, yet I know it’s him.

“Are you Lara?” the officer asks as I cry harder than I thought possible.

I nod, unable to speak I’m so utterly sad my friend hasn’t survived after all he did to help me escape from The Golden Light. He had so much to look forward to, and now none of it will happen.

“He ran out into the street because he said he had to make sure you were okay. That’s when one of them got him. I’m sorry.”

“Please let me see him. I need to say goodbye,” I say, barely able to get the words out.

Thankfully, he doesn’t try to dissuade me from what I want to do and tells his fellow officers to let me pass. I stop next to Nash’s body and crouch down to touch his shoulder as I see where the bullet went through his back and out his chest, leaving a gaping hole.

He looks so peaceful, exactly the way I wanted him to feel once he got to my place safe and sound. Nash didn’t deserve this. After all he went through, he deserved a second chance, and I’ll hate those Golden Light sons of bitches for taking that from him for the rest of my life.

“I’m so sorry, Nash. Please forgive me. I just wanted to get Rina out of here. I’m sorry I didn’t leave with you when you asked me to. I’m so sorry,” I say as I sob.

My tears fall onto his cheek, and I gently wipe them away as I think about all he did for me. He didn’t have to risk anything to protect me from Nadine and Micah, but he did and never asked for a thing in return.

For that, I owe him my life.

One of the officers softly taps me on the shoulder, and I look up at him knowing I have to go now. Turning back toward Nash, I whisper, “Goodbye, Nash. I’ll never forget what you did for me.”

As I stand up and turn to walk back toward the police car waiting for me, I see a body in front of The Golden Light building. Looking closely, I see it’s Nadine dead on the ground.

Good. May she rot in Hell.

Six Months Later

Each Tuesday morning, I sit in this hunter green wingback chair in my therapist’s office. He always begins on time, but today, he’s running late, so I’m studying his bookcases to see what he likes to read. I see some classics like The Great Gatsby and Oliver Twist next to books about cults and psychology. Seems typical for a therapist, I guess.

Dr. Genero walks in and sits down across from me in a similar dark green chair like he does for every one of our sessions. He’s wearing dark pants and a white dress shirt under a light blue cardigan, and I’ve decided since he wears this every time I see him that it’s his version of a uniform. The color of the sweater brings out the blue in his eyes and looks nice next to his brown hair.

With a tiny smile, he asks, “How are you today, Lara?”

I never know how to answer him when he asks that, which he does to start every appointment. I’m fine. I didn’t get hurt in the shootout, and other than some nightmares once in a while, my time at The Golden Light farm is slowly but surely becoming a distant memory.

So all in all, I’m fine.

Except I’m not, and I don’t know what to do about that. I lost someone I cared about that night, and my sister is still a mess. I have so much hate in my heart for The Golden Light people that sometimes I can barely keep it inside. It threatens to explode out of me at different times, like when I try to talk to Rina and she refuses to even acknowledge I’m right there in front of her or when our parents suggest I should get out more, as if the most traumatic event of my life didn’t occur only a few months ago.

So even though I shouldn’t lie to my therapist. I say, “I’m okay.”

“What would you like to discuss today?” he asks with that encouraging sound to his words I’ve grown to dread.

I’m not sure what he’s hoping to hear. Maybe he’s wishing today will be the day I’ll finally break down and cry my eyes out in his office here. I hate to disappoint him, but that’s not going to happen.

Not that I haven’t cried. I cry myself to sleep most nights thinking about Nash and how much he sacrificed to make sure I was safe. He didn’t have to find any police that night. He could have run away and disappeared, never to be seen again, and he wouldn’t have owed a single soul any explanation.

Although I know my fate may have been very different if he had, I can’t help but wish Nash had vanished into the darkness that night. At least then he’d be alive.

“I’m not sure. Any ideas?” I ask with a forced smile, knowing the doctor is analyzing every tiny move I make.

He levels his gaze on my face, but I don’t look away, preferring to stare into his very blue eyes. They’re icy and almost flinty, especially for someone who seems to genuinely care about his patients’ well-being. It’s an odd contrast I can’t help but be intrigued by.

“Perhaps you’d like to talk about something new you’ve been doing. How does that sound?”

I shrug, not unhappy to have that conversation. “Well, my story about what happened will be published sometime early next year. I’m pretty happy about that.”

“Is that so? That’s wonderful!” he says with a big smile that shows off his straight, white teeth.

It’s a rare expression of excitement from my therapist, and I have to say it’s a welcome response. My parents are none too pleased that I decided to write about what Rina and I went through. They claim it’s going to humiliate our family. Rina just repeatedly says the book will be a pack of lies, although she never says that to me because she refuses to speak whenever I’m around ever since that night. Nobody seems to care that writing all that I experienced was therapeutic for me.

“I’m happy about it. At least one good thing might come out of all that happened.”

We sit in silence for a long time before he asks, “Are you up to discussing how you feel about what happened with The Golden Light?”

Shrugging, I answer, “Sure.”

For the past six months, he’s asked that question, and I answer the same way every time. Sure. Then I try my hardest to hide my true feelings because I feel so fucking guilty about all that happened.

Today is different, though. When I woke up this morning, I told myself I’m going to give this therapy stuff a chance. Before all of this Golden Light business, I would have said with utmost confidence that I believe in therapy, but I’ve never given it any true effort.

That ends now.

“I’m wondering what your reaction is to all you went through,” Dr. Genero says.

As I think about how to answer, I purse my lips to stop the words from escaping, but I’m not doing that anymore. I’ll never find any peace if I keep everything inside.

“I feel so much that I don’t know how to answer, if I’m being honest. I hate them for taking Nash away and stealing the second chance he deserved. I’m angry at what they did to me and everyone else there. I’m sad at all the people who suffered. I’m hurt that my own sister, my best friend all my life until she got involved in The Golden Light, won’t speak a single word to me but lets anyone who’ll listen know she hates me for taking her away from Micah.”

“How do you feel about what the prosecutors are doing with his case?”

I have no issue with talking about how Micah and his goons, along with Nadine’s stormtroopers, are having to pay for what happened. I find almost too much glee at the idea of them spending time in prison for all they did. I don’t care about Adam having to spend the rest of his life in prison after agreeing to plead guilty in exchange for that sentence.

Well, that’s not exactly true. I probably care too much since I’m sure he’s the one who murdered Nash. I’ve avoided talking about it, even to my therapist, because I can’t stop myself from relishing his punishment. It’s the only happiness I can find in the situation, other than my book.

I take a deep breath in and let it out slowly before answering the doctor’s question. “I’m not sure what I’m supposed to say. I don’t pretend to be unhappy about any of it. I’d love to see them pay with their lives for what they did to Nash and me. And Rina. And all those poor people who believed in Micah. Since I can’t get that wish fulfilled, I’ll take whatever pain the justice system can give them.”

He nods and asks, “Does that give you some relief knowing they will pay for their crimes?”

For a few moments, I think about that question and then smile. “Relief? No. I lost someone who gave his life to protect me, and my sister is a mess and might never get better. Nearly a hundred people, all women and children, took their own lives after Micah said to because he was afraid of what they’d tell the authorities. So no, I wouldn’t call it relief. I’d call it just desserts.”

Dr. Genero nods. “From what I’ve read about the drugging of the members, the torture of that box, and the treatment of women at that farm, I’d say you’re lucky to have made it out alive.”

I’ve told him very little about all of what went on at the farm, but the newspapers have shared the horrible details since some of Micah’s men made deals with the prosecutors to get lighter sentences. “I have Nash to thank for that. I couldn’t have done it without him.”

My therapist says something else he’s read about all that happened with The Golden Light, but I’m not listening. All I can think of is Nash and how much he sacrificed for me.

Sometimes at night when I close my eyes and see his face as clear as day, I wonder what could have been. I was planning to let him stay with me as long as he needed to get used to life outside of The Golden Light. Would we have ended up together? I don’t know.

But if we had, I would have considered myself lucky to be with a man like him. He made mistakes and I’m sure the things he did for Micah would haunt him forever, but when he had the opportunity, he showed he was a good man. I can never pay him back for what he did for me.

“You mentioned last session that you didn’t think Micah would get much time, but I read in the paper the other day he’s going to be sentenced to ten to twenty years, and there will be subsequent trials for what he did to the women in The Golden Light and the suicides of all those people at the farm. How do you feel about that?”

I can’t keep the smile off my face at the idea that Micah and his messiah complex will be getting to enjoy life around hardened criminals who most likely won’t buy his brand of bullshit. If there’s any justice at all, they’ll treat him exactly as he’s due.

And if that means he lives in abject terror for the next decade or two, I wouldn’t be unhappy at all.

“Micah’s sentence makes me think there’s some sort of justice in this world.”

“Is that enough?” Dr. Genero asks.

I close my eyes and picture Nash’s face that first time we talked after Nadine’s men terrified me. I know he truly believed in Micah and his teachings then, yet he still tried to protect me.

“Even though I can’t be sure, I want to think Nash would be satisfied with Micah’s sentence, so I try to believe it’s enough. I don’t know, though. All those women and children are dead, and the guilt rests solely with him. They would have never killed themselves if he didn’t tell them to. So I honestly don’t know if Nash would say he’s going to pay enough for all that happened.”

I don’t know because I can’t stop thinking about all the people who suffered at the hands of The Golden Light. Nash, Anna, Mary, Cheyenne, and that adorable little girl Kinley, along with so many others whose names I didn’t know but who didn’t make it out alive from that hellhole of a farm.

My therapist nods and starts talking about acceptance, but like so many times when I’m here forced to deal with what happened, my mind drifts to Nash and all he did to help me in my days at The Golden Light. We only knew each other for a short time, but he made the ultimate sacrifice for me, and I can only hope he’s somewhere watching and approves of how I’m trying to make sense of it all. I may have never bought into Micah and his Golden Light garbage, but Nash showed me greatness can be found in the unlikeliest of places.

For that and everything else he did, I owe him my life. In that respect and only that one, Micah was right.

Nash did have greatness inside him.