Candace - A Few Months Later

It was the third Monday evening spent in the dimly lit basement at the ranch. Group therapy, Lyla’s idea, and so far, it was a good one. The group of people was pretty diverse, some women, some men, some military, some abuse survivors like myself.

There was one girl there, Hannah, whose shares always intrigued me. She had a life similar to mine, in and out of foster homes, and then an abusive man. She had four kids, three now after the baby was drowned in a tub by her enraged husband. Listening to what she’d gone through, how she’s survived and moved on, was inspirational to me.

I was sticking to my online courses, the GED already passed, and now diving into the college course I needed to get into a school offering a veterinarian degree. I reached down between the chairs, taking Luke’s hand in mine as Harold started to speak. He was one that always brought up feelings in Luke that caused him to be quiet for a couple days afterward.

He stood, not a tall man, and spoke about his time in the Marines. He didn’t have a life to go back to; serving his country was all he knew, and the men beside him were the only family he had. He was in Afghanistan, and four out of the nine guys that he considered his brothers were gone. He blamed himself every day that he was still alive.

“They would be wounded, sent to the hospital, and then come back on their own choice. One by one, each man who was given that choice came back, and then died,” he had told the group the first week we were there.

Harold was hit with an IED, and he was given that same choice, and he chose to come home. He considered himself a coward, and he hated looking at himself in the mirror, but he refused the cosmetic surgery that could smooth the burnt skin on his face.

It was hard to understand why he blamed himself, but having Luke in my life, realizing how close he was—still is—with all his SEAL brothers, it was easier to understand.

Neither I nor Luke spoke at the first meeting. We listened to a lot of stories, many of them we could relate to. The second meeting, Luke spoke, and his words brought me to tears. I loved that he could be that open, not just with me, but with total strangers.

He talked about the IED that burnt him, bringing attention to his squad and costing three of his men their lives. It was the first time I’d heard the story, and it became clear to me why these men stuck so closely together. A lot of them were like Luke, loners, foster kids, boys without family, hopes of a future. They joined for much more than just serving their country; they joined for a sense of belonging, for unity.

This meeting was our third, and I was going to take Lyla’s advice about speaking out and reaching out. She told me it would be good for me to share my story, to disempower the memories by letting them go into the universe. It was scary to show my vulnerability to people I didn’t know. I feared curling up in a ball, shaking, freezing in my spot with the giant elephant sitting on my chest to hold me down.

Harold finished speaking, and Luke squeezed my hand tightly.

“Anyone else want to share?” Lyla asked the group.

Her eyes scanned past mine but didn’t linger to add pressure. I stood.

“I do,” I said loud and clear. “I was in and out of foster homes my entire life. I don’t even remember if I had a mom or dad that ever wanted me. Social workers, foster parents, they wouldn’t give me that information when I was old enough to ask. The last home I was in was the worst. It was where I lost myself. It was stolen from me by a monster that lived not too far from here. The mom, Wilma, she knew what was happening, but she didn’t care. I left, leaving behind the only good thing in my life,” I turned and looked at Luke.

“From there, I met a man who said he would help me, get me out of this town. He never did. He kept me caged not far from the house I escaped from. He was worse than the man I’d left, but I had no way to get away. I was young, stupid, scared, and stripped of all the necessary tools to navigate this life, confidence, self-esteem, strength, morals, so I was lost, and I remained lost, until the good thing I left found me in the middle of the road,” I smiled at Luke.

I got into the details of the abuse from the foster dad, telling the group that he caught me having sex with my boyfriend and threatened to ruin him if I didn’t go along, ruin me too. He had plans, I didn’t; I told the group that I was always going to be nothing, but this boy would grow up to be a man, a real man, someone that mattered, that helped others, so I thought I was making the ultimate sacrifice, but I wasn’t. I was stupid. I could’ve let that boy become a man then, standing up and saving me, but I didn’t. I robbed him of that chance, robbed myself of a life, and now I stood, broken, trying to heal, and ready to admit my wrongs.

Lyla smiled in my direction and encouraged me to go on. I told them about Damien, how he brutally raped me, often with objects instead of himself. How he locked me in the trunk when it stormed, drove me around town, sold me to his friends for drugs, beat me, told me I was worthless, and refused to kill me or allow me to kill myself, so I could remain punished and miserable.

Luke was in tears when I turned back to him, but he forced a smile on his face.

I was healing. We both were.

“I know the man you’re talking about, the foster dad,” a woman spoke up when I sat down from speaking.

I stared at her, glued to her as I waited for her to give me information. My heart raced at the thought he was still in town, somewhere close, and that he could somehow get to me again. Breathe. Breathe. Just breathe.

“He went to prison for child molestation. He was killed inside once word got out what he’d done to all those kids,” the woman finished.

“The mother, what happened to her?” I asked.

“She was long gone before he was killed. People say she gassed herself in her car in the garage,” she finished.

A part of me was elated, but mostly, I was relieved. I was glad they got what they deserved. I only wished I could’ve been a part of bringing him down.

After the session, Lyla thanked me for finally speaking. I told her it was worth it to find out that the monster who started the demise of my life had been handed justice, even if not by my own hands.

Luke wrapped his arm around me and walked me to the ranch grounds. It was a cool night, and so many stars lit up the sky, it was like a late afternoon.

“Wanna take a walk?” Luke asked.

I nodded.

We walked through the grounds, stopping in the barn to visit all my critters.

“You’re going to make an amazing veterinarian one day,” he smiled.

“I’ve got to get through the basic courses first,” I laughed.

“You will,” he assured me.

There were new litters of kittens, three new baby pigs, and two newly born goats. The barn and the ranch were growing, with plenty of new faces everywhere, not just in the barn.

“Move in with me,” Luke blurted out, grabbing me by the hands.

I was stunned.

“Not here. Let’s buy our own place, somewhere close so we can still work here helping others, and you can bring baby animals home whenever you want,” he added as the kicker he knew would wrap me around his finger.

“A farm of our own?” I gasped.

“Yes. I want you to be mine forever. I’ll get a ring if that’s what you want,” he paused, staring at me like he was scared of my rejection.

“I love you,” I blurted for the first time.

“I love you,” he gasped, his expression softening, but his grip on my hands tightening.

“Let’s do it. But nothing fancy,” I smiled.

I was finally making all my own decisions, and I was certain they were all good ones this time.