I get up and shower quickly. I want to go to the hospital to see the baby, but it’s not my place. Important people will be stopping by all day.
I’m hardly important.
Instead, I make myself an egg white omelet and then head to the first floor. There’s a meeting today.
Meetings aren’t required but highly recommended. I just moved in, so I have no idea what I’m in for. A support group most likely, though only two of us live here so far. Most of the women are still at the retreat center on the island.
I personally couldn’t wait to get off that damned island.
I get it. The Wolfes took Treasure Island and made something good out of it. The center. An art colony. A resort.
But for me—and probably the other women who were held captive there—it will never be anything more than a prison.
A cage.
A place where unspeakable things were forced upon us.
I slide my card through the slot to call the elevator and head down to the first floor. Zee gave me a guided tour yesterday after all my clothing and other personals—which weren’t much—arrived. I own basically nothing after being kept against my will for so long.
The first floor houses all the community areas. A gym, complete with a sauna and steam room. A lounge with vending machines and tables. A library, filled with everything from Aristotle to Nora Roberts. And a gathering room. Zee called it a fellowship hall, but that makes me think of church. I gave up believing in God ten years ago, so to me, it’s a gathering room.
That’s where I’m heading this morning.
Inside, the chairs are arranged in a circle. I feel like I’m walking into an AA meeting or something. Only one of the chairs is occupied.
An older woman with gray sprinkled through her dark hair looks up and meets my gaze. “Good morning.”
I clear my throat. “Good morning.”
“You must be Katelyn.”
“I am, but how did you know?”
“Zee gave me a file with your photo in it.” She rises and holds out her hand. A pearl bracelet circles her wrist. “I’m Dr. Macy Grimes, but please call me Macy. It’s wonderful to have you here.”
“Thank you.”
Thank you? Why am I thanking her? Wonderful to have me here? When I’d rather not be here at all? When I’d rather that the circumstances leading me here never happened?
But they did happen.
No escaping that reality.
“So…what is this meeting about?”
“I’m here every morning.”
“Every morning?” Surely I’m not supposed to come here every morning for group therapy.
“Yes. I’m here every morning, but we won’t have meetings every morning. I’m here for all of you when you need someone to talk to.”
“But the meeting…”
“Right. You asked what it’s about. Twice a week we have group meetings. They’re not required but recommended.”
“Yes, I got the whole spiel.” I don’t mean to sound short. It just came out that way.
“You young ladies have been through a lot of therapy and healing already, but as you undoubtedly know, this is a lifetime process. A journey. We’re all works in progress.”
I’m thinking I’m a bigger work in progress than Macy is, but whatever.
“I see,” I say.
“We’re here to help each other.” She eyes the door. “Lily is usually here right at nine. I hope she’s okay.”
Lily? I don’t know any Lily. We used our actual names at the center, but who is Lily?
A woman rushes through the door then. She’s light brown-skinned and beautiful. Her hair—which I remember as long—is now cut short in a cute bob.
“Lily,” Macy says. “There you are. I was beginning to worry about you.”
So this is Lily.
Except to me, her name is Tigereye. Of course we didn’t go by our gem names at the center. Tigereye was called December.
I smile. “December?”
“Hi, Katelyn!” She rushes toward me and gives me a hug. “I changed my name to Lily. I hated the name December anyway. I don’t know what my parents were thinking. I was born in March.”
“Lily is beautiful. Is there a reason you chose it?”
“My favorite flower,” she says. “Always lovely during any season.”
I nod. I could have changed my name, but I chose not to. I was born Katelyn, and I’m still Katelyn. I was always Katelyn, even when I was Moonstone. Even when I couldn’t remember my name.
I have to take it all back. Take my life back. And the first step seemed to be to take my name back.
“We’re using last names now as well,” Macy says. “So Katelyn Brooks, meet Lily Patel.”
We hug again.
“Is Patel a new name too?” I ask her.
“No. It’s my real last name. My father’s from India. Is Brooks your old last name?”
I nod. “Just seems easiest,” I say, though the name comes from my father, and there’s no love lost between the two of us.
Still, he was happy to know I was alive and okay.