Out of Focus (Chosen Paths #2) (32 page)

Aubrey follows my stare, looking over her shoulder, and brings her eyes back to mine. “Sometimes even the smallest bit of light can lead you through the darkness. All you need is a spark.”

She grins back at me, and tears surface as I ingest the beauty of her words. Hope blossoms with her sentiment, warming me as it grows, because for the first time in all my blackened years, I feel as though maybe there’s someone else besides me who understands the meaning of
true
darkness. I can only nod in agreement, overcome with emotion.

She holds my stare and winks. “We’ll get ya there.”

The gesture and the words, both so familiar, steal the air from my lungs.

Her expression turns curious, and she angles her head to the side in question.

“I’m sorry.” I inhale deeply. “Grady used to say that to me. And he winked. A lot.”

Laughter bubbles through her nose and I smile a wobbly smile with her.

She narrows her eyes. “Grady cares for you very deeply, Cassie. You should know that. Remember that. Keep hold of that as we move through this process.”

I clear my throat before asking, “How is it that you know him?”

“We’ve done some casework together; that’s really all I can say.” She smiles apologetically, then adds, “But Grady isn’t why we are here, is he? Let’s focus on you.”

She inhales deeply and locks her gaze with mine before starting. “Now I want to preface by saying, I wanted to meet today in order for us to get to know each other. But the more you open up, the more questions I will ask. We will take this at
your
speed. If at anytime you’re uncomfortable with providing an answer, just let me know and we can move on to something else.”

My smile is weak, but accepting of her offer.

She continues. “Now we’ve established that Grady isn’t the reason we’re here, would you mind sharing why
you
are here?”

My throat works a swallow before I answer. “I’m lost. I feel lost, I guess I should say. Out of control, out of focus, like I can’t get my bearings.”

I sigh. “I don’t even know where to start.”

My shoulders lift into a shrug.

Aubrey continues to hold my eyes carefully with hers. “Let’s start with when you began feeling this way.”

“Well,” I begin, “I, uh . . . it started when I was eight really. That’s when I started to lose my grasp on the person I was. My world was tilted, throwing me off balance as it spun out of control. Everything became a blur, but after time, I found comfort in the haze. It made the pain more manageable, you know?”

She nods in understanding, so I continue. “But then I met Grady and everything slowed, bringing everything back into focus and forcing me to see what I had been missing. I just started wanting more. Wanting to be happy. Wanting to find love. Wanting things I never thought I could have.” I swallow deeply. “And then six weeks ago, I was reminded of why I should never have hoped for those things. My world sped up, and everything became distorted and unclear. I lost my focus. And with it, I lost that hope. I lost him. And I lost myself. Again.”

Aubrey dips her head again, then asks, “What happened six weeks ago that made you lose all of those things?”

“My uncle Alan died,” I respond, surprised by the ease of my answer, knowing exactly where this conversation is heading.

“You were close?” Her eyebrows depress with the question.

I snicker to myself. “We used to be, I guess.”

“And what changed within your relationship that distanced you from him?”

I have always been so preoccupied about the division between Spencer’s road and mine, I’ve never really thought about my own. But as she asks that one question, I know I’m reaching the proverbial fork in my own path.

Aubrey’s pushing me. Not aggressively, not so I feel threatened or fearful, but she’s testing the boundaries. Seeing how much I’m willing to give as she presses for information.

I get it. I see what she’s doing. And I want to provide her the information she seeks, because I’m so fucking tired of bearing the weight of my secrets alone. Neither my mind nor my body can handle them anymore. I want to pass them over to her, praying she’s someone who can help me shoulder their pain.

My stare breaks from hers, glancing over her shoulder at the sun and its symbolism. Can she help me find my way out of the darkness? Is there any spark even left in me?

I don’t know. I really don’t.

But I pray there is.

“He molested me when I was eight.”

I hold her stare, surprised when there’s no recoil. No surprise. No judgement or pity.

It’s as if she experiences relief; her mouth curves up slightly with her nod. Almost as though she expected it. “Wow, Cassie, I’m
very
proud of you. Very proud. I’m sure that wasn’t easy.”

She’s proud of me.

No, she’s
very
proud of me.

Wow.

Just hearing the words pass from her mouth lights a fire in my soul. My desolate, aching heart is soothed by their warmth and a tiny, encouraged grin dances on my lips.

Aubrey’s face breaks into a prideful smile. “That spark of yours is still there. I see it in your eyes, your fight to heal. And mark my words, we will get you there, and we will do it together.”

“I hope so,” I breathe. “Because honestly, I’m exhausted. I feel as though I’m constantly trying to breathe, but can’t. I feel smothered, slowly suffocating under the weight of the secrets I’ve kept. I just want to be free of them. To live without continuously fighting back the memories and the fear I experienced when I was a child. It’s ever-present, you know? Always there.”

“I completely understand, Cassie. Nothing you’re saying is out of the norm for someone who has experienced the trauma you have, especially at such a young age.” Her mouth tightens a smidge before she asks, “Now, you mentioned secrets. You’ve told no one about this? Not even your parents?”

I shake my head, my throat tightening with the admission. “No. When I was young, when it would happen, he would tell me that my parents would be angry if I told them. That they would be upset with me for disobeying his orders, and if I did so, they wouldn’t want me anymore because that would make me a bad girl. I was so scared, Aubrey.” My voice begins to tremble. “I know now that he was manipulating me. But then, I didn’t know what to do.”

A tear breaks free, rolling down my cheek.

“I believed everything he told me. And then after a while, even after he left and I knew better, so much time had passed I didn’t want to bring it up. It was easier for me to pretend. I just acted as though it didn’t happen, so I would never have to explain to them what actually
did
. I was scared of the way they would look at me, that they would blame me for letting it happen. I just . . . couldn’t.”

“What happened wasn’t your fault, Cassie. You need to understand that.”

I swallow and offer her a slight dip of my head.

“Cassie, I need you to look at me.” Aubrey’s tone is firm and demanding.

Tearing my eyes from the view of the carpet, I raise them to meet hers, equally as unwavering as her voice. She leans forward and repeats, “It wasn’t your fault.”

Aubrey’s face is blurry through my tears. “I know.”

She cocks her head. “Do you?”

“I do,” I assure her. “I mean, I get that there was nothing I could do at that age to stop him. The only thing I could do was what I was told, so that’s what I did, what I’ve been doing, for the past fifteen years. But even with that knowledge, it doesn’t seem to make it any easier. It still happened. I still feel him touching me. I still feel the disgust and humiliation that followed once I realized what had actually happened. Because I didn’t know.”

My head bobs from side to side. It’s so surreal, so strangely freeing, to be saying these things aloud. Words and thoughts I’ve had ruminating in my head for years.

More tears surface, replacing the ones escaping my eyes as I decide to give her everything. Because Uncle Alan’s secret wasn’t the only one I’ve been keeping. I’ve also been hiding the shame felt with my own. The words tumble from my mouth, for fear I will never find the courage to release them again.

“I didn’t know what he was doing was wrong. I trusted him when he told me it wasn’t. I didn’t recognize it then, but when I grew older and finally understood . . . I was no longer innocent. I felt dirty. I felt sick. Grotesque. It
had
been wrong. It changed me.” I take a deep breath. Aubrey waits patiently. “So I did my best to cope with those feelings by taking ownership of my own body. Sex, and any feelings of pleasure associated with it, were
given
by me, not taken. And each time it happened, I felt empowered, relieved I still had some sort of control. But soon after would come the loathing and self-hatred, overshadowing my relief. It was an endless, whirling cycle that dictated my life for many years.”

Aubrey’s expression is thoughtful as she takes in my account, then she gives me an encouraging nod. “Again. A completely normal response. Nothing you have done, Cassie, is wrong. Like you said, you did the best to cope in the only way you knew how. It’s how you survived. And I think now that you’re older, we can work on finding different ways to deal with your past. With the anger. With the remorse. With the violation of both your body and your trust.”

She smiles and adds, “With a healthier, more healing approach, we can help you move past the pain, instead of simply masking it. It won’t be easy. Some days will be more difficult than others, but I’m willing to lead you, if you’re ready.”

She looks at me intently. “Your willingness is the key to your healing. You have to want to travel that path with me. I can’t help you unless you
want
to be helped.”

I look at her, her expression filled with determination and strength, and I know that if anyone can help guide me to where I want to be, it’s Dr. Aubrey Miller.

“I’m ready.” My voice is strong and resolute with my answer.

“Good,” she replies. “Then I have a homework assignment for you. When you’re ready.”

Her mouth lifts at the corners. “The first step toward healing is the most difficult, and it may seem a little crazy, but you have to trust me on this.”

I love the way she calmly assesses my reaction. I remain silent, unfazed by her statement, because I’m ready to do whatever it takes. Presumably after gauging that in my expression, she explains, “You need to look inward and make peace with that eight-year-old little girl inside of you. Find her and say the things that need to be said, whatever they may be, so she may be released from her own pain. It’s
her
agony and terror that you feel, not twenty-three-year-old Cassie’s. Twenty-three-year-old Cassie knows what happened and has created coping strategies, some not as helpful as others, but eight-year-old Cassie is still bound by her fears, unable to break through because of the uncertainty of what she has experienced.
You
are the only one who can reach her, who can soothe her, and ultimately, who can free her. Once you do that, then your true healing can begin.”

Aubrey grins and laughs under her breath. “Sounds crazy, doesn’t it?”

My own smile breaks free and I shake my head.

“No, I’ve seen her,” I admit. “I just couldn’t get to her.”

I wouldn’t even know what to say to her.

I feel so guilty.

Another reassuring grin from Aubrey. “That’s because you weren’t
ready
then. Now you are. And I’ll help you find the right words she needs to hear.”

The meaning of her words, and her unwavering belief in them as she speaks, furthers the fledgling sensation of hope.
Could I do this?
Reclining into my seat, I reflect on the ease of her statement. I look over her shoulder at the magnificent image of the burning sun.

I know it won’t be easy, but I refuse to live like this any longer.

Focusing on that sun, everything slows and I find I’m no longer falling.

My feet hit the ground, strong and steady, and as though landing on a piece of flint, a spark is ignited by the strength of their impact. It twists upward, carrying with it a glimmer of light, and as I watch it float in front of my eyes, power surges and clarity sharpens my mind.

I am stronger than
him
.

I will find the Cassie of my youth, and
I
will free her.

I will heal us both.

And after that, I will forever emerge from the darkened hollows of my mind . . .

My
own
victor.

And I won’t have to do it alone.

I’m no longer alone.