“But you have dealt with this in your personal life,” she says. “Do you think that’s why it’s bothering you so much?”
“I don’t know,” I answer, honestly. It’s impossible not to think about how things unfolded with Brian, and how I made everything worse. “Maybe. I know I’ve never been victimized like that. I can’t really understand what she’s experienced. But obviously I see the connections to my past.”
“What does Danny think?”
“I haven’t told him.”
“Huh.” The sound comes out like a question. She transitions into thinking position, which is a lot like listening position, except she tilts her head a little more to the side.
“It’s not come up,” I say, picking at my fingers. “Besides, I usually leave work stuff at school.”
“But you’ve not been able to leave this event at school, have you?”
I had trouble sleeping last night. I kept thinking about Darcy, how happy and carefree she looked in the hallway at Spring Fling. A little mischievous, sure. But being a mischievous teenager shouldn’t be a punishable offense. I imagined her in the gymnasium, flitting about with confidence, controlling the room. All attributes which had been taken from her that same night.
“It’s bothered me, yes,” I say.
“Do you think it’s because her attack is so similar to the crimes Brian committed?”
I see Brian’s face. Not the dominant, controlling one I witnessed throughout my childhood. I revisit the happy smirk he showed the world. The smirk that likely got him in contact with those girls. How many of them had been like Darcy? Were they beautiful and full of promise before Brian got his hands on them?
“I don’t think I want to connect the two,” I say, grinding my teeth. “But yes, there are similarities.”
“I’m surprised you didn’t tell me about this incident at the beginning of our session,” Dr. Walters says. “And I think it’s odd you’ve not discussed the matter with Danny. This must have been a huge trigger for you. Usually you’re good at identifying such situations and dealing with them.”
“I am dealing with this,” I say, trying not to sound as offended as I am. “I’m just dealing with it myself. I don’t want Danny to think there’s something wrong with me.”
“I understand no one at your school knows about your past.”
“They don’t,” I say, firmly. Even though I am friends with Marge and Pam, I want them to interact with the woman I am today, not be influenced by my history.
“I understand why you don’t want to disclose certain details, but I hope you will use your personal experience to help this student moving forward. You have a very different understanding of her situation compared to your other colleagues. You could provide some great insight. Be an excellent sounding board. When she’s ready, of course.”
“Thank you,” I say, feeling silly for not having mentioned my feelings about Darcy earlier. I’m not sure how I thought Dr. Walters would react. Part of me worries I’ll somehow turn people against me, even Dr. Walters and Danny. I don’t want anyone to look at me like I’m pitiful again. The exact stigma Darcy wants to avoid.
“Does anyone know who might have attacked this girl?” Dr. Walters asks, returning to listening position.
“No,” I say. “She’s very hesitant about admitting what happened.”
“Makes sense,” she says, looking down, no doubt thinking about past patients and their stories. “You would be useful in that area, too.”
“Excuse me?”
“You could help her come to terms with her attacker. Realize she did nothing wrong, that the person who did this was likely wired that way.”
“I see,” I say, looking away. I’m not really sure how to take this. Being Brian’s sister doesn’t make it easier to empathize with people like him. I don’t think I’ll ever be able to understand them.
“Not to overload you with tasks,” she says, then laughs. “I just think it’s beneficial whenever you can take your past and use it to bring positivity to the world.”
Dr. Walters’ words dance in my mind, even after I leave her office. What she says is uplifting. But the reason I don’t buy into the notion that my experience could “serve a purpose” is because that means surrendering to another idea. The idea that what those girls went through happened for a reason. I don’t want to think that way, that somehow their pain and suffering contributed to a greater good. A better world—in which they no longer existed. I don’t want to think Darcy, who’d been found alone and bleeding, was forced into that state simply to spare another girl the experience.
At night, as I struggle to find sleep with Danny’s arm slumped over my hips, I look at Dr. Walters’ suggestion from a different perspective. Perhaps my purpose wasn’t to inject positivity in the world. Even my story, with whatever helpful nuggets it may hold, can only be shared after another person’s tragedy takes place. I can’t help victims make sense of their pain when I can’t understand it myself. I can’t relate to victims, but I can relate to attackers because I grew up alongside one. And I saw Brian before anyone else did.
In all the discussions I’d had about Darcy’s predicament, with Principal Bowles and Pam and Dr. Walters, their primary concern had been the victim. As it should be. But their ignorance over whom to blame helps mask the culprit. I know what happens when people fail to interpret warning signs. Lives are lost, and I’m already haunted by the reminder I didn’t act fast enough last time. Someone hurt Darcy Moore, and as unbelievable as it seems, someone at our school was likely involved. As I sink into sleep, I picture all their faces. Darcy in the purple dress and Adam with his arms around her. Melanie with her curly updo. I think of Principal Bowles, clenching his
