Never say never,” I murmur just as his lips meet mine in what feels like a homecoming.
Ashley
“Ms. Powers?” I glimpse upwards from my seat, twisting my fingers to see a woman only a few years older than me standing there looking poised, professional—unlike…me.
Standing, I stutter, “Umm, hi.” More nervous now than I have ever been before.
Walking towards me, she smiles while offering her hand. “Hi, I’m Dr. Felicia Peters.” Her disposition immediately puts me at ease. Her eyes hold no judgment, and I need that right now.
“Ashley,” I respond lamely, shaking her hand.
“Follow me, and we’ll talk.” Entering her office, she asks, “Would you like something to drink?” I shake my head no. “Alright, well let’s get to it, shall we?”
Sitting on the edge of the sofa, I wait for her to begin. I’ve never done this before, having no idea how it’s supposed to go.
“Why are you here, Ashley?”
This is so much more intimidating than I ever imagined it would be. Being around a self-assured woman makes me catalog my flaws in a much harsher light. There is a saying, “Rip the Band-Aid off” …so, I do.
“I was a bully.” My heart accelerates.
“Okay.” She nods encouragingly, perhaps sensing I need to say more.
“I hurt my brother’s fiancée in a very profound way.” My chest tightens.
“Go on.”
“I went to jail for a year.” My breath catches.
“That must have been traumatic.”
I simply nod.
“I became the bullied.” My head swims.
“Oh, wow.” She breaths.
I’m not done yet. Time for the big one. I may vomit.
Rolling up my sleeves, I exhale. “I self-mutilate because it’s the only way to give way to the emotions festering inside of me.”
I watch as she stands and walks over to me, sitting down on the table in front of me. “Tell me, Ashley. Which one of those was the hardest to speak about?”
For a split second, I don’t understand why she asks that, but when I answer, “Being bullied,” I do. I do because for so long, I carried the shame of being the tormentor, that when I became tormented, I felt relief. I was getting my just desserts, so to speak.
“Why?” she asks hopefully.
And so, it begins. We break down of every statement I said. We manage to figure out what made my brain tick while I was being beaten. I admit that I feel like I received what I deserved for everything I did to Cecilia. She helps me to see that I don’t warrant it at all. She shows me that making amends, asking for forgiveness, and moving forward the best I can, are the rewards for all the changes I’ve made in my life.
Declan
It’s been two months since my accident, and today is the day I finally get this fucking cast off and get a boot. Turns out the guy who hit me was drunk, had been arrested for three DUI’s before, and now has a nice cozy room in prison for the next couple years.
The healing process hasn’t been easy. Ashley has been like a little mother hen, not letting me do more than she thinks I can. Which with her tiny stature has been adorable to watch.
There has been a noticeable change in her. She’s happier, more at peace. She doesn’t carry such a huge weight on her shoulders anymore, and she’s finally stopped fighting me about us, thank fuck. I haven’t had the energy to argue that I’m sticking to her like glue.
She’s had a few bad days; I’ve had to hold her on the bathroom floor with a razor blade held between our hands to help her work through whatever is bubbling to the surface of her mind. She has a long way to go, but she’s working to get better for herself instead of those around her, and I couldn’t be fucking happier with her.