When we get old and the dust settles… would we be able to say—
"I lived my life, and I don't regret my decisions?"
Not one person in that therapy group could answer that question, even though they'd been there for a month.
They sat in the same circle every week, said the same things, avoided the same ones.
Some tried.
Most didn't.
Anna was the lead therapist. She'd been through her own trauma—at least, that's what she told them a few times.
Enough to seem real.
Not enough to actually explain anything.
Was there really light at the end of the tunnel?
Or was that just something people said to make the dark feel smaller?
"Hey, Kate. You're drifting off again."
Kate blinked, her eyes slowly refocusing on the room.
The circle came back first—the chairs, the people, Anna leaning slightly forward in hers.
For a second, everything felt too sharp. Too close.
Kate straightened a little in her seat, like she'd been caught doing something she wasn't supposed to.
"I'm here," she said, quieter than she meant to.
"That's good. Do you want to share what you've been thinking about?"
Kate's head lowered, her gaze fixing on the floor like it had suddenly become the most interesting thing in the room.
"No."
It came out flat. Simple.
Anna exhaled quietly, giving a small nod before continuing.
"So… would anyone like to volunteer and speak today?"
The room stayed quiet.
A few people shifted in their seats. Someone crossed their arms. Another looked away.
No one raised a hand.
"It's alright. I'll start then."
Anna straightened slightly in her chair, her tone calm, practiced.
"As you know, I had a husband. You already know he used to hit me… and how that led to my drug addiction later."
"But that wasn't the worst part of it for me."
Anna paused, her fingers loosely clasped together in her lap, thumbs brushing against each other like she was grounding herself.
"The worst of it was… how caring and loving he was at first."
Her voice softened slightly, but not in a warm way—more distant, like she was looking at something far away.
"Before he started drinking heavily."
A small breath.
"And after a while… I didn't see him anymore. Not really."
She glanced down for a second, then back up at the group.
"Like the man I knew was just… gone."
"And for a few years, my life turned into a nightmare."
Anna's voice stayed steady, but her shoulders had gone a little tighter.
"I used to look him in the eyes when he hit me… just to see if there was anything left of the man I loved."
A small pause.
"Anything at all."
"But when the man who was supposed to love and protect you… rapes you while laughing, telling you it's your fault…"
Her voice didn't rise.
If anything, it got quieter.
Like saying it louder would make it more real.
"Then I'd say wishing him dead is the most humane thing you could do for a stray dog."
The words slipped out sharper than the rest, edged with something raw.
For a second, her composure cracked—just enough to show.
Then she inhaled slowly, straightening again, the calm settling back over her like it had never left.
"So yeah… the point I'm trying to make is—I'm not some therapist who only read about what you've gone through."
She looked around the circle, meeting a few eyes, holding them just long enough.
"I lived it."
A small pause.
"And I survived."
"And I know it's hard to even think about it," Anna continued, her voice softening again. "Because it feels like you have to live through the nightmare all over."
Her gaze moved around the circle, slower this time.
"But you're safe here."
A small pause.
"You don't have to go through it alone."
Anna fell quiet, her gaze moving around the circle.
Kate's eyes stayed fixed on the floor, unfocused, like she wasn't really seeing it.
"What good is it gonna do?" she said.
Her voice was low, but it cut through the room anyway.
"Talking about it isn't going to make the pain go away."
Anna didn't answer right away.
She let the words sit, giving them space instead of rushing to fix them.
"No," she said finally, calm, steady. "It won't."
A small pause.
"But it can change what the pain does to you."
"I'm… I shouldn't even talk like I'm some kind of victim."
Kate's voice wavered, just slightly.
"I don't even remember when it happened. It's all just… a blur."
Her fingers tightened against each other.
Anna tilted her head a little, her expression softening.
"Not remembering doesn't make it any less real, Kate."
"And I kept telling myself I was still a virgin…"
Her voice dropped, rough at the edges.
"Like my body wasn't… dirty because of him."
The word hung there, uncomfortable.
Anna's expression didn't change, but her tone softened.
"Kate… what happened to you doesn't define you. And it doesn't make you dirty."
"And then… like it was supposed to make me feel better…"
She let out a shaky breath, her gaze still down.
"I slept with a counselor."
A pause. Heavier this time.
"He was older… and I thought maybe—" she swallowed, "maybe it would make it feel different. Like it wasn't just… pain."
Anna didn't react immediately.
But something in her posture shifted—more alert now, more careful.
"Kate…" her voice was still gentle, but firmer underneath, "that wasn't your choice in the way it should've been."
A small pause.
"That was someone in a position of power over you. And they crossed a line."
She held her gaze steady.
"That's not something you needed to fix. And it's not something you caused."
"It's not like I didn't… open my legs."
The words came out harsher than anything she'd said before. Defensive. Almost angry.
Like she needed it to sound that way.
Anna didn't flinch.
"That doesn't make it consent," she said, steady.
A small pause.
"Being hurt, confused, or trying to take control back doesn't mean you were in a position to choose freely."
Her voice softened just slightly.
"It means you were trying to survive."
"I wasn't trying to survive," she said, her voice shaking now. "I only… I only wanted it to feel good. Not like the pain I felt that night after I—"
She stopped.
The words caught somewhere in her throat.
Silence pressed in around her.
Anna leaned forward slightly, her tone softer now.
"Wanting something to feel good doesn't make you guilty, Kate."
A small pause.
"It makes you human."
"How can I not call myself a whore if even he—"
Her voice broke.
The word hung there, sharp and ugly.
Anna's expression didn't harden—but her tone did, just slightly.
"Stop."
Not harsh. But firm enough to cut through.
"You don't get to use his words against yourself."
A small pause.
"What he said doesn't become the truth just because it hurt."
"I… Ray was right."
Her voice barely held together.
The words left her, and something in her just… gave out.
Her shoulders shook, small at first, then harder, like she couldn't stop it.
She covered her face, but it didn't help.
The sound still came through—broken, uneven.
Anna didn't interrupt this time.
She just watched, giving her space.
"You're hurting," she said quietly.
A pause.
"But that doesn't make him right."
"Of course he was right… and then, because of me, he—"
The words collapsed before they could finish.
Her breath hitched, uneven, like she couldn't pull enough air in.
Anna leaned in slightly, voice steady but firmer now.
"Kate—look at me."
A small pause.
"Whatever you think happened… you are not responsible for everything."
And then a girl spoke up.
She had blonde hair, usually quiet in the other sessions. But now she looked… annoyed. Not at Kate—at the way she was talking about herself.
"You're not a whore Kate. No where near it. I literally got into gangbangs, getting fucked by multiple man just to feel something. And it felt good, being fucked into every hole. Until the shame and disgust about myself came."
The room went still.
Not shocked—just… heavy.
Anna didn't interrupt.
She let it sit, letting the weight of it settle over everyone.
The girl exhaled through her nose, like she'd been holding that in longer than she meant to.
"And guess what?" she added, quieter now. "I still show up here."
"Maybe I should do that?" Kate said, more to herself—but out loud.
The words slipped out before she could stop them.
A few heads turned.
The blonde girl frowned slightly, shaking her head.
"That's not what I meant."
Anna stepped in, calm but firm.
"Harming yourself in a different way won't fix what already hurt you."
She held Kate's gaze.
"It just adds more to carry."
"But maybe if I get broken enough… it won't hurt anymore?"
The words hung there, quieter than the rest—but heavier.
Anna didn't look away.
"That's not how it works," she said gently.
A small pause.
"Breaking yourself doesn't take the pain away."
Her voice softened.
"It just makes it harder to find your way back."
"I… I just want to live a normal life."
Her voice cracked, the words coming faster now.
"I want to forget it all and wake up from this fucking nightmare."
Silence followed.
Anna's expression softened, but she didn't rush to fill it.
"You're allowed to want that," she said quietly.
A small pause.
"But healing isn't forgetting."
Her gaze stayed steady.
"It's learning how to live without it controlling you."
And as Kate lost it completely, sobbing…
No one said anything.
They didn't rush her. Didn't interrupt.
They just sat there—quiet, present—letting her cry it out.