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The feelings reared up as if I were still there, twenty years in the past. The numbness had melted, and sharp knives of shame and hurt and humiliation sliced into my chest and belly as I cried. Moon murmured— It’s okay, let it all out —while wrapping me in her arms.

Eventually, the tears stopped. I took shuddering breaths. I didn’t want to open my eyes, to see the others staring at me. But when I did, everyone’s faces were filled with softness and warmth. Grace and Dawne’s cheeks were wet with tears.

Moon thanked everyone and invited Mikki, Dawne, and Ramit to step out.

“Is the session over?” I glanced at Jonah. “What about Jonah? His work?” I’d taken up all of our time in the session—when would he share?

“Don’t worry.” Moon pushed back my hair in a motherly gesture. “That was his pattern too. Jonah treated someone the way that Adam treated you.”

Jonah nodded slowly, staring at the floor.

Sol grasped his shoulder. “How do you feel?”

“Like shit.” Jonah smiled faintly. He’d already apologized to me during the session; Sol and Grace had too.

And though they weren’t actually Pastor John and Jamie and Adam, it had shifted something to hear it. Like I’d been living with a dislocated shoulder for twenty years, and it had just been popped back in place.

“And you?” Moon trained on me. “How do you feel?”

“Good.” Already parts of me were rearing up, questioning what had just taken place. Moon had been able to facilitate this because she’d stolen my diary. That was clearly wrong.

And yet… something momentous, maybe even mystical, had just happened. The memory had felt real . My knees ached from the shed’s wooden floor under the thin blanket.

Moon rubbed my arm. “We’ve taken a big step in breaking the pattern. There’s still more to do, but it will no longer rule you.”

I nodded, wiping under my eyes. There must be mascara all over my face.

“Let’s take a break.” Moon checked her watch. “Sol and I have to get ready for the bonfire ceremony, and you both may want to rest a little.”

Soon, Jonah and I were outside, walking in the direction of the yurts. I felt raw, like an exposed nerve.

I started: “That was…”

“Wild,” he finished.

“Were you acting again?” It felt unbearable to fathom, though it had to be the case.

“Actually, no.” He cleared his throat. “Sol was right. I did treat someone like Adam treated you.”

“Oh.” I was both surprised, and not.

“I should tell you what happened to me,” he went on. “Or rather, what I did.”

“You don’t have to.”

“I want to.” He looked grim. “So yeah, I was a bully. My parents were fighting all the time, and I think I was taking it out on other people. I targeted this one girl, Hannah. She was obsessed with our teacher. And he gave her special treatment, for sure. But he or she must’ve crossed some line because he started avoiding her. And I took advantage of that. I invited her to parties, got her drunk. And one night I had sex with her.” He paused and we trudged in silence for five seconds, ten. “I was drunk, too, but that’s no excuse. I was pretty cruel to her after, and I’ll always regret that. At some point she disappeared. Her parents transferred her. I looked her up many years later; she was living somewhere in Tennessee. Married, two kids. I still think about her.”

We stopped outside of my yurt. His arms were crossed, his shoulders hunched. Staring at the ground, he looked miserable and somehow young, like a little boy who’d done something unforgiveable. Jesus. How were these boys allowed to have this kind of power over us? To cause us so much pain?

“I don’t understand how they know about our pasts.” Jonah’s eyes darted to mine. “Moon and Sol. There has to be an explanation, but I can’t think of it.”

“There is.” I cleared my throat. “At least for me. They stole my diary.”

“What?” He frowned.

“Yeah. It disappeared. And it was filled with stuff about Adam and Pastor John.” Though not what had happened at the camp—I’d been too depressed or ashamed to record that.

“Okay. But how did they know that my ‘pattern’ overlapped with yours?”

“Did you mention anything in the application for the retreat?”

“Nope. Just some vague bullshit about dating issues.”

It made me think of Ramit’s session, how Moon had known things she couldn’t have known. And this time, she’d seemed to know them even before we started the session.

“I think they’re really good at reading people.” I shrugged. “Moon especially. That has to be it, right?”

“I guess.” He rubbed at his chin. “In any case, it doesn’t change what we came here to do. In fact, it makes it even more important. Moon and Sol are good. Catherine could’ve easily gotten caught up in their—whatever’s going on with them.”

“I agree. You still want to do the search tonight?”

“Yep. An hour after everyone goes to bed, let’s meet at the hot tub.”

“Sounds good.” I rubbed my temples. “I think I need to lie down for a few minutes.”

He nodded. “I’ll see you at the bonfire.”

My sense of time was off. The hours and intensity of the sessions made it feel like we’d been here for weeks instead of days. I needed something to ground me, to remind me of my normal life. The Wi-Fi wasn’t working—Grace had mentioned it could go in and out—so I opened up my photos instead. I looked at pictures of Ryan: Exaggeratedly excited over a giant burger. Sticking out his tongue at me in bed. Kissing my cheek in a selfie as we waited to ride the Cyclone at Coney Island. For the first time, I didn’t feel that sharp pain of longing and shame.

Maybe if Ryan had been more open, it would’ve helped me undo the handcuffs holding my sexuality hostage. But I also could’ve started that work on my own.

A deep calm settled over me. I’d finally told the story. About how after my best friend failed me, I’d searched for support from my pastor, who had groomed me and then almost literally slammed a door in my face—and slammed it for good. How that loss had opened me up to Adam’s predatory advances. Sure, I’d kissed him back, followed him willingly enough. But I’d also been in a state of shock, and I never would’ve done anything physical with him in my right mind. He was intuitive; it’s why he was such a good bully. I felt sure it was why he’d come on to me in the first place.

I cried a little more, for the thirteen-year-old who’d felt so lonely and unloved. It had started much earlier, of course—I’d known, even as a child, that my mom was disappointed in me. Her quiet, shy daughter had just reminded her of the boisterous family her body had refused to give her. But maybe she would’ve been the same with more kids: faintly disgusted and put upon by their needs. I didn’t know. Dad had been a presence more than a person, either absent or controlling. The few people I’d bonded with—Melissa, Pastor John—had cut me off. No wonder relationships were so hard for me.

I wanted nothing more than to stay in the yurt, but forced myself to reapply mascara and walk to the bonfire. Moon had us sit across from our accountability partners and gaze into their eyes for five full minutes. The flames reflected in Jonah’s dark irises. Such a short time, and yet it seemed to last forever. It was awkward initially, but melted into something else: a connection or an understanding.

Moon had us stand, embrace our partners, and then hug everyone. She called upon her ancestors to bless our work together. Sol set up speakers and played drum-heavy music. And then we danced. Something in me felt electric, like I needed to shake some stale energy out. We laughed at one another’s wild moves. Dawne tried to grind up on Moon, and she laughed and went along with it. Sol pumped his fist like a club kid. Ramit surprised us all, whipping his head and hips with abandon. Grace and Mikki undulated, their arms over their heads, while Karen woo-hoo ed into the night.

Somehow I found myself in front of Jonah. He grabbed my hand and twirled me like we were at a wedding reception. We laughed and swung each other around in a circle. His palms were warm and strong, keeping me from spinning out into the darkness.