I close my eyes, sleep coming over me. Mike holds my hand.

"I didn't make it all up," I say but my voice sounds far away, the words lost.

I notice the color behind my eyelids first. Yellow. I think back to that girl in one of my college classes who was obsessed with reiki.

“Ok, now what?” I’d asked.

“Shh, Aubry. Keep your eyes closed and if you notice any colors let me know after we’re done.”

I’d lain there on her table, squeezing my eyes shut, wishing I was anywhere else. Wishing I was with Nora, not this hippie chick. But who was I to turn down a free session, especially one that promised to reset my center and balance my life. I needed that desperately. I was aimless and lost without Nora around. Her hands travel over my body and even though she’s not touching me and I can’t see her movements, I can feel her presence. Yellow fills the blank canvas that is the back of my eyelids.

“Yellow,” I say.

She sighs at me. “Open your eyes, Aubry.” I did as I was told and sit up too quickly. It left me feeling dizzy. “I said to wait until I was finished,” she says. I shrug.

“So … what does yellow mean?”

“That’s a good color. Yellow is the solar plexus chakra, it means working on personal power and confidence.” I stare at her, bewildered that some stupid color I saw with my eyes closed, perfectly summed up my insecurities at that moment in my life.

As I open my eyes and rub the sleep from them I contemplate how powerless and unconfident I am—yet again. The sunlight streams through the window. The clock on the wall says it’s early still. I reach backward but I’m alone. Disappointment washes over me. Mike didn’t stay.

I swing my legs off the bed. The floor is cold against the soles of my feet and I’m bombarded with memories of that room.

I’m singing Woman at the top of my lungs. “I’m a motherfucking woman. I don’t need a man to holdin’ me tight.” There are sniffles from some as their tears die off and others hum along. And I just keep belting it out. Over and over. Because it reminds me, no us, that we’re strong. Stronger than this hellhole. Stronger than this situation. We’re still ourselves, deep, deep inside where the men cannot touch us with their brutality and harsh words. No slap or punch or kick can penetrate that secret corner of our souls that houses what’s left of our essence. We can sustain. Guilt eats at me because I am not subject to what the others are. Do they know? Can they deduce that screams of violation never come from my room? I am spared and for what?

“You ready to use the bathroom?” I snap my head around to see the morning nurse standing mere feet from me. My chest is white hot and my breath coming short. “Honey? You okay?”

I inhale sharply and nod. She loops her arm under my pit and helps me bear my own weight.

It’s a slow journey across the room to the bathroom and I’m fatigued when I get there but I’m determined to get stronger.

“You sure you’re okay?” the nurse asks.

“Yeah. Just, groggy,” I lie.

The breakfast menu is waiting for me when I make it back to bed. I circle my choices and hope to God that they aren’t room temperature or bland when they arrive. Mom visits while I’m trying to choke down my breakfast.

“Morning, babe,” she says and holds up a plain brown bag which I can smell, knowing it contains the best everything bagel loaded with veggie cream cheese inside it. Salivating, I snatch the bag from her as she kisses my forehead.

“I knew I loved you.”

She laughs and makes herself comfortable in the chair nearest me. “You’d better.”

Joking with mom is a luxury I wasn’t sure I’d have again just a few days ago. Hearing her voice, seeing her face, it makes me choke up. My eyes well with tears as I savor a bite of my favorite breakfast.

“Everything okay?” she asks. I sniffle and nod.

“Yeah, just sentimental, I guess.”

“You always were the dramatic one.” She grins at me. Balking at her mock insult, I gasp and clutch my chest with my free hand. Because once my coveted bagel is in my grip, it doesn’t leave it until it’s gone. “How are things going? Was Dr. Richardson helpful?”

I sigh. “I guess. I mean, it still baffles me that I could remember things that never happened. It makes my brain hurt trying to sort it out. But I also can't make sense of all of you being in on some secret to dupe me. I don’t know Mom, something is off. I feel it in my gut.”

“Always trust your gut. And always trust your mom. I’m not duping you. No one is, as far as I know, but if you feel like something's amiss, don’t let anyone talk you out of it. I think you should continue to see Dr. Richardson for a while.”

“Funny, Nora said the same thing.” I crack my knuckles knowing it irritates my mom. She narrows her eyes at me.

“It can’t hurt,” she says.

I exhale. “I just want to go home.”

“I have your room all ready for you.”

I raise an eyebrow. “I meant my apartment, Mom.”

“You’ll need help still for a little bit. I think you should stay with me when you’re released. Just for a week or so.”

I roll my eyes but agree to it because fighting with my mother on topics like this is useless. She shoots me a victorious look and I can’t help but smile at her.

“I have to get to the greenhouse, but I’ll swing by later. If you need me just call.”

“I’m okay, Mom. But thanks. I love you.”

She kisses my forehead and whispers, “And I love you. To the moon.”

“To the moon,” I whisper back.