Chapter 2

‎The room carried a heavy musky scent, a mixture of old wood, sweat, and incense. It wrapped around me the moment I stepped inside. I saw the group already seated and quickly joined them, keeping my knees pressed together and my arms folded tight across my chest, trying to disappear inside my oversized sweater. It was Mid-July in London, and I looked ready for December. I could imagine what they were thinking who on earth dresses like that in this weather, it didn’t bother me though, by now I was too tired to care.

‎When my colleague at work heard I was coming to London for work she had pushed the address into my hand. “It’ll help,” she’d said with a hopeful look I couldn’t argue with. I had wanted to say no. Needed to. But the word never made it past my tongue. Now here I was, knees locked, already regretting the decision while my mind kept drifting back to the hospital that morning.

‎The nurse’s voice still echoed in my head everything that happened from this morning was making my head spin. I never thought I would see Heath again. I had passed it off like a bad dream, never to repeat itself again.

‎Even the memory made my chest tighten. Six years later, and the sight of him still stole the air from my lungs. And then he had called me Kattie. Urgh…. He knew what he was doing, and I hate that it still got to my head, I hated that it could still slip easily under my skin, I hated I was thinking of him instead of mom, and I absolutely hate I’m here because of him.

‎“Katherine?” The facilitator’s gentle voice pulled me back to the present. “It’s your turn to share, if you’re ready.”

‎I shook my head, trying to push Heath out of my mind. But the damage was already done. My pulse was still racing as I slowly became aware of the silence in the room.

‎Every face in the circle turned toward me. My throat closed. Part of me wanted to bolt for the door, but the other part, more willing, wondered if speaking the words out loud would lighten the load.

‎“I…uhm… I had a relationship six years ago,” I started, keeping my voice flat on purpose. “I thought it was real. Turns out it wasn’t.” I paused, staring at the dark stain on the carpet. The words felt heavy but I had come to learn that it was true, and I would only do myself good by accepting it. But still after six years it still felt heavy. I had played the situation over and over again, wondering what signs I had missed, what could have given it away and I didn’t catch on. Jo had pointed it out earlier that it was useless, and I try to believe that, but still it hadn’t stuck with. “He leaked an intimate video of us. That’s how everything fell apart.”

‎The memories pressed harder, there were nights he’d stay and help me prep, overtime I had grown to trust him. But before I could fully embrace it the bad ones came too. The warning from people who told me that I was moving too fast, I had brushed them off regarding them silly. And now, I only wish I could turn back the hands of time. But saying all that wouldn’t change anything, so I left it there.

‎To my right someone had shifted in their chair again. My hands had unconsciously been tugging at my sleeves again, folding the fabric between my fingers. I laid it back flat on my thigh.

‎“Then my dad died.” My voice stayed even, one would have been able to tell if it was grieving or not. “I know it was because of me. The shame and embarrassment I brought on the family… the neighbors wouldn’t let it go. The constant pressure, the looks, I knew he could feel it. He moved me here – to Manchester hoping that it would be a fresh start. The financial pressure increases when he made that decision. He had to work harder, just to keep giving me some kind of normal life I was used to. And he couldn’t handle it.”

‎The familiar lump rose in my throat. I forced it down. I didn’t mention Mum fighting for her life in the hospital. I didn’t mention signing a contract with the same man who had destroyed me just to keep her in that ICU bed. Who would understand choosing to work for the devil who once ruined your life? They would look at me like I was pathetic. Or crazy.

‎I stopped talking. The circle waited expectantly. When it was clear I had nothing more to give, the overlapping chorus began.

‎“We’re here for you, Katherine.”

‎“You don’t have to carry this alone.”

‎“You’re safe here.”

‎I never got to know if they ever really meant that or if it was just another recitation. I remembered situations where I had my judgments on other people stories, but at the moment it really didn’t seem to matter.

‎“Thank you for trusting us with that, Katherine. That took courage.” she paused “We have had someone like this before in a way worse situation, but she learnt to come out of her shell to confront the thing that hurts her … I think that what you need to do”

‎I didn’t say anything, this was the first time I had received advice after telling my story, Most facilitators in the past just nodded their head and moved on in to the next person. She didn’t. She looked at me waiting for a reply.

‎“I’ll try” I said quietly said to her. She nodded once and turned to the next girl that had been shifting beside me.

‎The rest of the session passed in a blur. When it finally ended, I slipped out quickly, murmuring vague goodbyes. The evening air outside felt lighter. I walked the familiar streets back toward our home, all too aware of my phone heavy in my pocket like a ticking bomb.

‎The choice was clear. If I didn’t take the job, Mum would be moved out of ICU by Friday. Her condition would worsen. I could lose her too, just like we lost Dad. The thought made my stomach twist so violently I had to slow down and breathe through it.

‎But if I did take it… if I walked back into Moore Holdings and worked under Heath every single day, then what? All these years of trying to rebuild myself, of burying the shame, of convincing myself I had moved on. It would all be for nothing.

‎I clenched my fists inside my sleeves. Either way, I lost. Either my mother paid the price for my pride, or I paid the price for her life with whatever was left of my dignity.

‎I need to call Jo

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