Last night was difficult. This morning I feel like I’ve been dowsed, drowned, and wrung out emotionally. Jon is headed to a rehearsal for the wedding, but he’s nervous about leaving me. After a long night of tears and tenderness, he called that doctor. She said she could see me today, and talk about options. I don’t want to get my hopes up. I’m not sure what choices are even available. I mean, it’s not like we can pretend it never happened. The things Mark did will always be there. The scars won’t vanish, no matter how loudly I command them to go.

I’m sitting on the couch and staring at the little picture of the Seine River. Beth plops down next to me, admiring the new design on her glittery pink cast. “So, Jon hasn’t let me strip since this happened.” She taps on her cast. “Did you know he had contractors in there yesterday?”

“He did?” I blink at her. “Doing what?”

“They measured everything, and pulled out a lot of that old paneling. Some walls are entirely bare now. Other walls are gone, and the stage is getting a facelift—new floors and these soft velvet curtains. I got chased out before I could figure out what they were doing. Want to know the weirdest part?”

“Yeah.”

“No one worked yesterday or the day before, and the Club didn't open last night. It’s closed tomorrow too.”

I glance at her, wondering what Jon’s doing. He’s not said anything about it. “Do you think he’s just updating aesthetics?”

She shakes her head. “No, it seems like he’s changing the place up. It doesn’t look like a strip club anymore. When I went by last night, they were hanging light fixtures and putting in these cool looking leather benches and booths. He added more club chairs and tables along the front of the stage, but you have to see it. Guys sitting there can't reach us anymore to hand us cash. I’m not sure what he’s doing.”

That must be why we went out last night. He didn’t want me to see. I can’t believe he’d close the place after everything I told him about how much these girls need their jobs. There’s been very little fighting, and most of my friends are excited to work since Jon took over.

“He didn’t say anything to me.” I stare at the wall, thinking.

Beth leans in next to me with big eyes and bumps her shoulder to mine. Her fingers are intertwined and clasped tightly, arms straight, and elbows locked. As she sways toward me, her arms go the other way, like a pendulum. “So, what’s new?”

I turn to her. “Nothing. Why?”

Her lips have a strange curve. It’s like she shoved an orange in her mouth and it doesn’t fit. Beth drops her hands and sighs dramatically. “You are such a liar. Come on, spill. I’ve been so good not prying, but the guy is a Ferro, and he’s been sleeping on your floor, and—Cassie what’s wrong?”

My bottom lip juts out. I wish I could just swallow my head. I don't want to talk about it, but there’s no way Beth will leave it alone now. “Nothing.”

“I’m going to kill him. I mean, your dickhead husband is a piece of shit, but if I'd known Jon was—”

I cut her off. “Jon’s not like that! He’s been perfect.”

“Then why the tears?”

I glance over at her through glassy eyes. The world is distorted, blurry, and sad. I have the perfect guy, but I can’t be with him. I figure out how to say it, and tell her what happened. I tell her about Mark and the long periods of time where he used and hurt me, filling in things I’d left out previously. Beth knew Mark was a dick, but had no idea of the extent of his abuse.

I finish by telling her about Jon, and how he's supported me. By the time I’m at the end of the story, tears are rolling down my cheeks, and my voice is flat. I feel dead inside. It’s a story I’d rather not tell, something I don’t want anyone to know. I want to be normal. I want to feel normal. I don’t want this heavy part of my past looming over me forever, but every time I nearly pass it, it comes back stronger.

I swallow hard and clear my throat. “Apparently there’s a doctor that can help me, but I really don’t want to go.”

“I can understand why you wouldn’t. But Cassie, OMG, Jon hasn’t left your side. He loves you!” She presses her palms together, giddy. “The guy said he’d wait for you.”

“I think he’d wait forever. We'll be asexual old people, and he’ll turn into my brother. Then my mom can adopt him and love him more than she loves me.”

I’m not acting rational, and I know it. It feels like I'm caught in a freefall and I'm about to hit the bottom. I have everything I wanted, even snagged the guy, but there’s no future for us. No kids. No pleasure. No passion. Nausea heats in my stomach and washes over me in a wave. I press my hand over my mouth and wish I had a mint.

“Your mom is a piece of work. I won’t say anything about that. Your brother is a dick. And Jon is the guy who got away, right? He’s here now, and he’s not leaving. At first, I was pissed he hung around so long, but with Kam’s guys across the street, a Ferro on the floor seemed like a good move.”

“Plus he bought you glitter tape.”

She beams at her pink cast. “There was that. Can I ask a stupid question?”

“Go ahead.”

“What’s wrong with seeing the doctor and thinking about whatever she tells you? It's not like it can make things worse, right? I mean, you can’t be with him, and you want to, so what do you have to lose?”

As her words sink in, I realize it's not about Jon or sex. It’s about me facing my past, looking directly at it, assessing the damage done, and accepting it. I’ve never accepted what Mark did to me. I never told anyone he forced me, I rarely use the word rape. It’s not that I don’t know what it means, it’s that I was stupid enough to let it happen to me. It wasn’t a single occurrence, which makes me partially to blame. When I first met Jon, I thought I was strong. I thought I’d face life head on and shoulder my way past anything that tried to bring me down. I thought I’d fight back or die trying.

I didn’t fight back. That’s what bothers me. I never threw a punch. I never thought about hurting him while he slept. I could have done so many things, left so much sooner than I did—but I stayed. I convinced myself Mark’s behavior was a fluke. I forgave it. I thought I was supposed to, and when I did, he treated me so wonderfully that I thought it was over. Mark gave me so much attention and affection that I felt like he couldn’t live without me.

Then it’d happen again. The cycle would repeat. Anger. Rape. Sweetness. Presents and promises that never came to be. I shrunk back in my mind and cowered. I wouldn’t have left if he hadn't scared me that last time. I didn’t expect to see the sunrise again. He would have killed me, and I let it happen. All of it. I sank into this unending tide of misery, waiting for it to wash out again, but it never left.

My voice is a whisper. “Nothing. I have nothing else to lose, but I’m not sure if I can face it again, Beth.”

She presses her hand over mine and squeezes. “Do you want Jon to go with you?”

I shake my head. “He already offered, but I don’t think I can manage it in front of him. It’s too much, you know?”

She nods. “I get it. Listen, how about this? I’ll go with you. I’ll go where you tell me. If you want me to stay in the waiting room, I will. If you want me to come with you, I can do that too. When stuff is this emotional, it’s hard to think clearly. It might help to have someone there supporting you—even if it's awkward. I’m here for you Cassie. I’ll go with you.”

I nod slowly, trying not to cry. I never expected to find such a good friend, but I have. “I’d like that. Thanks, Beth.”