‘After being shocked for hours on end, trust me – you’re gonna want to give it a try.’
‘Are you saying it worked?’ Kim asked.
‘I’m saying it does what it says on the tin. It’s aversion therapy. It makes you want to avoid it. A week after I left, I saw two women on telly holding hands. I threw up.’
Bryant shook his head in despair.
‘It’s okay. I’m on the mend now. It was the worst time of my life, but I’ve been getting help to accept my sexuality.’ She smiled. ‘I’ve actually got a date tomorrow. First one ever.’
‘Congratulations.’
‘Thank you. Megan has been awesome.’
‘Megan Shaw?’
‘Yes, do you know her?’
‘We’ve met. She works many of these cases it seems.’
‘Because she can talk from experience. She faced her own identity demons and came out the other side. She understands exactly what we’re going through.’
Kim hadn’t realised but there was no good reason why she should.
‘You said you got out before it got worse. What did you mean?’
‘The chair is the tip of the iceberg. There are other, more forceful methods. The withholding or force-feeding of food, forced prayer, beatings, emotional and physical intimidation. I was forced to wear skirts and high heels. I was forced to wear make-up to feminise me – and worse.’
Kim wondered what was worse than the things she was already describing.
She waited.
‘Corrective rape.’
‘What?’ Bryant asked with horror.
Stephanie nodded. ‘It goes on. And it’s happened there. I don’t know any more details for sure, but it’s definitely happened.’
Kim immediately thought of Sarah. Had she been raped? Was that why she had given the child to her parents to raise? She made a mental note to ask for a DNA sample from the child. It was knowing who to match it to.
‘I know you said you don’t know any more details but can you point us in the direction of anyone else who would be willing to talk to us?’
Stephanie shook her head. ‘Not likely. Not with those NDAs in place.’
‘No one?’ Kim pushed.
Stephanie sighed and looked to Bryant. ‘She always this persistent?’
Bryant nodded. ‘Oh yeah. She’s not even warmed up yet.’
‘Okay, there was a guy named John Dermot. We weren’t supposed to know last names, but we once had a late-night chat and he let it slip. Don’t know where he lives or if he’d even talk to you, but he was there at the same time as me.’
‘Okay, Stephanie, thank you for talking to us about—’
‘Aren’t you going to ask me about the text?’
‘Text?’
‘I thought that was what had prompted you to get my details in the first place.’