“I made a friend,” one of the girls interjected. “She was my brave one. And she died. How—How do you handle it? How do you live with yourself knowing you lived when you didn’t even want to?” she asked, tears clogging her throat, choking the question off.
“You just do. I wish I had a better answer. A step-by-step guide to getting through it, but I don’t. You just hang in there and go to therapy and live each day and each hour or even each minute. You live it enough for them. You live a life they’d be proud of. You embrace the feeling of guilt and regret. You absorb it and feel every painful ache. And slowly, you dissolve it with each step you take forward. It’s been almost ten years, and mine still lives within me, but it’s minuscule compared to what it was.”
Motion at the glass doors caught my eyes, and I looked up and froze. Blond hair, ice-blue eyes made even brighter by the light blue shirt tucked into black jeans. His head dipped with a small smile, hitting me right in my heart. When had he got here? How much had he heard?
Not that it mattered, it was Daniel. He knew everything and never treated me differently. He never treated me as a fragile thing on the brink of collapse. He pushed me and demanded I be strong for myself in ways I hadn’t known I needed to be.
“Eventually, there comes a moment—or a person— that helps you want to be more,” I said, looking right at him. “We cover our darkest parts and hide it under a pretty blanket we worked so hard to make with therapy and time. We pretend it’s not there until we’re ready to face it. And I can tell you that one day you will be able to face it—even if it’s only bits and pieces at a time.”
Tears clouded my vision of Daniel. He’d been my moment—my person that had helped me face the darkest parts and beat them. He’d been the person to remind me that I could have done it all along.
“I guess I wanted to talk to you for a few reasons. One, because I think I needed to. I’m not brave like you guys are who talk every year. But I want to be. I want to be able to share my story and not have the shame of it hanging over me because there’s nothing to be ashamed of. We survived.” Sniffles greeted my impassioned words, and I believed them more than I ever had before. Daniel had been right. I was strong. I had survived even when I hadn’t wanted to, and that’s the hardest survival of them all. “Also, I wanted to let you know that I’m here. You are not alone. You are not surrounded by people who want to help you, but don’t understand you. You. Are. Not. Alone.”
More tears slipped down my face, and I didn’t bother to wipe them away. They fell too fast to stop them.
“We don’t have anyone,” one of them said.
“You have each other. You have Haven. And if at any point that doesn’t feel good enough, you have me. I’m slowly crawling my way through life, but I can feel the sun on my face the closer I get to the light at the end of the tunnel. I promise you, it’s there. And if you need me to crawl back through that tunnel to hold your hand through the dark, I will. I’ll go back every time because whether you wanted to survive or not, you did.” I held out my hands to either side of me and waited for two hesitant palms to slide against mine. “You were strong, and you survived the worst. You will survive this too,” I said, squeezing hard.
“Thank you,” one of the women said. I ached looking at her sunken eyes and bruised cheek.
I looked to each of them, meeting their eyes with as much fire as I could muster through my tears. “Thank you for being here. For giving Haven a chance, for giving life a chance.” Looking over their heads, I met Daniel’s eyes. “Thank you for listening to me and helping me.”
After we all mopped up our eyes, a few nods, smiles, and even a few hugs were exchanged. I told them to head to the kitchen where I brought a cake because sometimes every day needed to be celebrated. Before they’d turned to leave, Daniel had left. Once they cleared the door, I expected him to come back. I straightened magazines and almost tripped over the rug because I couldn’t keep my eyes from the door.
Had I imagined him the whole time? Had he not really been there? Had I needed him so much in that moment, that I’d conjured him, and now he was gone?
God, I needed him. No, I didn’t need him. If anyone taught me that, it was him.
I wanted him.
I wanted his arms and his love and his comfort.
I wanted to believe him.
I just wish he was there to convince me. To tell me it was all a mistake. I’d listen. I’d believe him if he’d at least try.
But he was gone, and I fell to the couch, defeated. My muscles ached from the week I’d put it through. I wanted his warmth by my side, and instead, I was alone.
More tears burned the backs of my eyes as my chest squeezed too tight, and I buried my head in my hands, too tired to hold it up. I’d thought he’d come for me, to fight for me. But he hadn’t.
He was gone.
“Is this seat taken?”
28
Hanna
The light shined through
