A/N: This chapter contains mature content (fallout of sexual assault)

After school, brownies in hand, I stood outside St. Mary's Catholic Church. The Mary's House charity wasn't affiliated with the church, they just rented space for meetings and Mary's office.

If Mary was her real name.

The usual white-stone exterior and a central monolithic spire towered over me. Exterior underlighting lit up the lower part of the entrance and cast shadows over the window tops and roofline.

"Hey, Prudence," a feminine voice said as I reached for the door handle.

I'd gotten the worst name in the group.

As an avid Beatles fan, Mary gave us anonymous names. Some girls had exchanged numbers. I hadn't, but I wasn't dealing with the same real-time situations that most of these girls were.

"Hi, Rita." I smiled at the tall, thin girl with flawless dark skin glowing under the sunset. Normally, her braids cascaded down her back, but today her head was wrapped in a scarf. The forward-speaking girl was a few years older than me.

"Brownies?" Her eyes sparkled with interest.

"Sure are. Dark chocolate with sea salt." I smiled as she held open the door, and the expansive sanctuary space enveloped us inside. "Thanks, Rita."

The interior of the church took my breath away every time. A three-story ceiling was vaulted with a central peak. Halloween decorations hung from the dark wood corbels. Calming sage green walls flanked the intricate, arched stained glass windows and Biblical scenes in green and yellow blocked frescoes.

Fake spiderwebs and orange and black streamers hung from the ten globed chandeliers. The muted lights painted the room in intimacy despite the room's vast size.

"Rita, Prudence." Mary's grandmotherly voice greeted. Her long, silver, straight hair swept behind her as she took brisk steps closer.

"Hi, Mary." Rita's arms extended for a quick hug. Since my hands were full, I nodded as Mary released Rita and patted me on the shoulder.

"You spoil our sweet tooths, Prudence." Her smile always warmed me from the inside out. "Or is it sweet teeth? I'm not sure. We're waiting for one person, but you both know where to go."

"Straight into those brownies," Rita joked as we headed down the narrow, dim hallway with cream walls and worn gray carpets.

The second doorway led into the kitchen area, where one gigantic round table sat in the center with ten chairs. Mary liked everyone able to see each other while eating. Once done, the table was pushed aside, and we left the chairs in a circle for the meeting.

As usual, several platters of food were laid out for dinner on the counter flanking the sink. While I grabbed a dinner plate, my brownies disappeared one by one until only crumbs remained.

Macaroni and cheese, grilled vegetables, and a fruit salad jumped onto my plate, and I grabbed a bottle of water and sat beside a small-framed girl with adorable, unruly brown curls gathered in a high ponytail. Her hazel eyes brightened at me and her thin lips split into a smile.

"Prudence."

"Hey yourself, Sadie."

At my first meeting, Sadie broke down after admitting her most recent encounter with her abusive ex had occurred just three days prior. Seeing her lightened my heart. Her eyes were bright, her posture relaxed, and she wasn't hiding behind oversized clothes—all good signs.

"You look good." I stuffed a forkful of spinach into my mouth, hoping none got stuck in my teeth.

"I feel good." Her eyes scanned over my appearance. "How are you?"

"I'm good," I started when my phone buzzed with a message from Logan. Every Monday, he sent the same message. Although, tonight's included a particular emoji.

Logan: Hope your night goes ok baby. Call if you want to talk after.❤️

Warmth filled my cheeks as I smiled at his message. I never called him because usually, my mind was too overwhelmed and tired, but he always sweetly offered. Just the fact he thought to message me made my stomach flip.

"Him again, huh?" Sadie elbowed my arm, smiling with her chin tucked over my shoulder.

"Yeah." I switched the phone onto airplane mode and tucked it into my pocket.

"It's cute," she said when Mary clapped from the doorway.

Everyone's attention snapped to her. A girl stood behind Mary with her chin tipped. Her long, straight, dark brown hair hung over her face like two curtains she hid behind, and her dark brown eyes were glued to the floor. Gazing at the floor with glossy eyes, she looked like this was the last place she wanted to be.

We scattered like a group of cockroaches after being discovered. I shoved in my last food bites like a chipmunk, we wrapped up our dinner trash and pushed aside the table. I sat between Sadie and Pam, who winked an almond-shaped eye at me and popped a brownie into her mouth.

"So good," she mumbled between bites and gave me a thumbs-up.

While I chewed and swallowed my last bites, Mary took her seat and encouraged the new girl to sit beside her. Knowing how that seat felt, our eyes fell on Mary. Like every meeting, she put a hand on her chest and beamed.

"Mary. Forty-four years."

Always sitting on Mary's right, Rita preferred to go first. "Hi. I'm Rita and it's been eleven months." Gentle clapping followed her response.

Julia, with her gray eyes and short blonde hair in a pixie cut, grinned. "Julia, thirteen months!" which earned her quiet applause.

Lucy's hazel eyes looked up shyly, and she tucked her straight brown hair behind her ears. "Lucy, eighteen months. I can't believe it."

Bonnie's skin was still pale compared to her auburn hair, but her green eyes flashed like soft gemstones. "Bonnie, three months. Every day is getting easier, thanks to Mary."

Georgia's brown hair was slicked back in a sawed mohawk just above her ears, and her light brown eyes looked smaller since tonight she wore contacts instead of her usual round glasses. "Georgia, nine months."

On my left, Pam went next. "Pam. Still four years, still asshole free." Her black hair bounced off her shoulders, and her brown eyes sparkled. Pam's response always prompted laughs, including mine, as we clapped on her turn.

"Prudence." I gave an awkward half-wave. My cheeks always burned when I gathered the room's attention. "Three years, two months."

Sadie's warm hand held mine. After a gentle squeeze, she said, "Sadie, five weeks."

Mary gave her a slight nod of encouragement, shifting along the line.

Our second blonde and last introduction was Penny. Slumping in her seat, she sighed. "Penny, eight months."

After Penny's claps ended, most of us sat up straight since we'd reached the new girl. My heart tugged as she drew in a sharp breath and squirmed in her seat, but kept her dark brown eyes fixed down.

Mary's hand rested on the girl's shoulder. "This is Martha," she introduced.

Martha's cheeks flushed, and the shine of tears appeared in the corners of her averted eyes. She wore baggy jeans and an oversized hoodie sweatshirt. Her olive skin was heavily concealed but not enough to fully disguise a bruise near her left cheekbone.

My stomach clenched at the possible source of her bruise. An ex? Family member? Stranger or loved one? Mentally, I pushed the same message I'd first received here: We've all been there. We get it.

"Welcome, ladies." Mary smiled, her eyes traveling around the circle and resting on me. By the smile that creased lines around the corners of her mouth and eyes, she'd gotten my earlier message. Just as her lips parted, a cough sounded on my left. "Anything to share?"

"I, uh, have some news." Bonnie raised her hand. "I suppose it's good news. My restraining order was granted."

"That's very important," Mary said gently. "It must give you some sense of security now."

"It does." Her brown-haired head bobbed. "Thank you for the legal services, Mary. I feel like I can walk around without looking over my shoulder. I shifted around to stay with different friends, but he kept showing up. He never did anything, just apologized over and over but..."

But the trust was gone.

She didn't need to say the words because the wistful, sympathetic smiles and head nods demonstrated hearing those unspoken thoughts.

Those silent glances radiating compassion and understanding were more powerful than if the words had been said because the support behind them was so strong, I almost could snatch it out of the air. Not having to explain every detail of my situation or justify my feelings made the long Monday nights here worth it. We'd joined a sisterhood that no one should ever join but, thankfully, we had each other.

The saying was true—There was strength in numbers.

"You're doing better than me if you're done with your ex-boyfriend," Julia admitted with a sigh, gripping the edge of her seat. "After I took my psycho ex back, two weeks later, I was in the hospital with a fractured cheekbone and subjected to a rape kit that was never followed."

"We'll keep pushing the county's sheriff's department." Mary's determined promise was as clear in her voice as in her unblinking expression. "They have such a ridiculous backlog. One case worker trying their best is commendable, but the resources aren't there. I know this doesn't help give any sense of justice, but we'll keep trying."

Julia nodded, sending the room into silence. Glances and firm smiles showed that everyone believed Mary. She had limited resources, but she wouldn't give up. My conversation with Mom reminded me to pass on Harper's Dad's contact information after the meeting.

Couldn't hurt, at least.

"Anything else?" Mary's kind eyes toured the circle. They stopped and rested on Rita, who blushed.

"Umm, yeah." She coughed, her eyes darting around and refusing to focus on anyone. "My one-year anniversary of...it happening is in a couple of days, and I'm fucking freaking out."

"Completely normal," Mary said. "I always feel something on my day, and it's been decades. This group gives me something to be thankful for every day, but I try to do something extra positive, a random act of kindness so something good happens on that day."

The profoundness in her words struck me. I'd never met a more selfless woman. She spent hours dedicated to her charity, to help people like us feel less broken.

And we...helped her?

"Anyone else who's gone past a year? What helped?" Mary's eyes met mine, but I shook my head. Despite more than three years passing since the incident with Ryder, I'd ignored and pushed away my feelings for so long that some days felt like it'd been weeks, not years.

"I'm no help." Lucy's face cracked an amused smile. "I got completely trashed drunk on mine so I didn't have to think about it. The hangover wasn't worth it, either."

"Every year, I do some type of cleaning, like throw out old junk," Pam said. "And every year I swear, I get closer to burning my uncle's cabin down."

"Pyro and excessive drinking activities are ideas to consider, I guess. But again," Mary directed her gaze towards Rita. Relaxing her shoulders and tightness in her face, Rita looked relieved to have gotten her concern off her chest. "Be kind to yourself. You're pretty social, so maybe a girl's night in?"

Rita nodded and mumbled thanks, and Mary's eyes shifted from sympathy to amusement when they landed on mine. "I had a question sent in. The person who asked is here, but unless she speaks up, I'll ask anonymously since it's an intimate question."

Blushing, my gaze dropped to the floors, and I bit my lip. While I'd opened up with the details of Ryder's assault, this question made nerves flutter in my chest and sweat coat my palms.

"All right." The smile in Mary's voice brought my gaze back up to hers. "It's on a topic some here might not be ready to discuss, but should be open towards confronting it in the future. Hopefully, those who've dealt with it are willing to share their experiences. Again, safe space, there are no wrong answers, no judgments."

"What's the damn question?" Pam called out to a round of stifled giggles.

"Sex after abuse. Or, reigniting physical intimacy."

A collective 'Ohhh' hummed through the circle. Some girls smiled, Pam burst into a laugh, others looked horrified, and some averted their eyes. My cheeks turned borderline molten, the blush traveling down my neck and shoulders.

"I know we're not supposed to call people out," I whispered to Pam. "But I'm dying to know your answer."

She stopped laughing immediately and straightened in her seat. After a few uncomfortable coughs, she cleared her throat and muttered, "Why not."

"Mary?" She raised her hand. Out of the corner of my eye, her shoulders slumped. "So, uhh, at the risk of sounding like a total slut... I..." She cleared her throat again. "I tried to sleep it out of me. Which I don't recommend."

"It?" I echoed quietly.

"My pain, my guilt, everything... I slept randomly with anyone and everyone short of a street hobo. Definitely some questionable morning-after choices, but yeah..." One of her hands rubbed the other arm. "It didn't work. I just felt empty and lonely."

"Did you find anything that helped?" Mary prompted.

"Oh yeah." Pam laughed sheepishly and scrubbed her palms across her thighs. "Sorry, I found a great guy who's so, so patient. He stuck around when I wanted to run. And he understands that some positions just aren't happening, but never complains because... At the end of the day, he's still gettin' some."

"As always, thanks, Pam." Mary's eyes shone as Pam's words erupted a set of giggles needed by the group. Collectively, the uneasiness thickening the air disappeared.

"I envy you," Georgia spoke in a whispered confession. Her tiny smile looked wistful and tentative. "I just... can't do it yet. Whenever my boyfriend and I get close, I tremble and clam up."

"I feel dirty," Rita chimed in suddenly. "I have to shower after. Sometimes, I scrub my skin until it's pink and raw. And, I...hate it."

After a few moments of silence, Mary prompted, "Anyone else?"

"I cry and shake through the entire thing," Lucy murmured, hugging her stomach. "I hate reacting like that but refuse to let it get the better of me."

Slight vibrations against my right leg directed my attention to Sadie's left knee bouncing. I patted her tensed thigh, which relaxed and the movements slowed.

"I..." her voice was very quiet, almost timid, while her hand took mine and squeezed it. "I can't even look at my body right now without hating it."

I squeezed her hand back.

"Also, normal." Mary looked straight at Georgia, then Rita. "Normal." Her gaze focused on Lucy and she said, "Normal," then at Sadie with a softer, "Normal."

Each girl visibly relaxed, as if they'd been nervous or unsure about their answers. Shoulders relaxed, sighs escaped, and heads gave appreciative nods. Sadie's eyes turned glossy with tears, which she blinked until they subsided, and heaved a shaky breath. After one more squeeze, she released my hand.

Mary was the best.

"The unfortunate side effect of evil people taking our control is that we often still don't have it once they're physically gone from our lives. Their imprints steal our power. It gets easier with time, and talking through it is great. So, thanks for opening up about your experiences and feelings, Georgia, Rita, Lucy, and Sadie."

"I can't do it without staying fully clothed from the waist up," Julia admitted, looking at Pam. "And, yeah, I tried one-night stands too, mostly drunk, because I couldn't look at the guys after. Or myself."

"I'm able to have sex okay as long as I'm on top." Penny sighed. "Otherwise, it's not happening."

"That's a great point," Mary said. "It's important to feel like you're in control of your bodies again. If that means avoiding certain positions that trigger negative responses or memories, then so be it. Missionary can be hard, or maybe just the feel of someone's body over yours makes you uncomfortable. So, is doggy-style since it can be more aggressive penetration."

The heat in my face hadn't gone away throughout the conversation, but now my neck and shoulders also flamed at Mary's frankness.

"Often women find being on top helps, but being open and honest with your partners, and yourselves, is the key to moving forward."

"It takes a lot of patience," she added, glancing in my direction. "Patience from your partners, which is hard for some young men or women, but also with yourselves. Some days, it might just not happen, and that's okay too. There's always another day."

"Umm, yeah?" I raised a tentative hand.

Eighteen eyes focused on me—sixteen including Mary's, but Martha's were glued on the floor. As usual, everyone looked at me without judgment or a hint of pity. Their support, understanding, and empathy weighed down with a blanket of compassion.

I borrowed some collective group strength, but my voice still shook. "How do you know when you're... umm, ready?"

"I don't think I ever knew," Pam muttered, to which Georgia, Rita, and Julia nodded in agreement. "Just did it."

"Sorry, Prudence." Mary shook her head slightly. "Like many of my answers, we all have to find what works for ourselves. No one answer applies to everyone because it's tied to how we heal and move forwards. Some people rip off a bandage at once, and others rip it off one hair at a time."

Both options sounded painful.

"And some people get drunk off their tits," Julia added with a smirk. "Not that, I uhh, recommend that approach for you, Prudence."

Did she mean I wasn't ready at all? The flickers of hopefulness from this discussion felt extinguished like a snuffed-out candle. I was the youngest here but had to start somewhere, right?

My expression must have fallen, because Mary added, "You'll feel ready or not during intimacy. Your body might be ready sooner than your mind, or vice versa. Mild panic reactions or uncontrolled trembling are physical signs of not being ready. But, if you feel mentally safe and secure with your significant other, and your body feels love and pleasure, it's okay to explore further."

Feeling love and pleasure. Liking the sound of both, I could manage both.

"I still struggle." Georgia's brown eyes darted to mine. "Even though I have the best boyfriend in the world. Sometimes, I tell myself I don't deserve him, he's so patient."

"All of us have worth," Mary said. "Even when those voices in the back of our heads say otherwise. There's unfortunately always worse days than others, but often time steers us towards having more good days than bad."

"The key is being open and honest with your partners, and yourselves. Both with how you're feeling but also your expectations of each other. As victims, we're often shamed into silence but speaking up and keeping that line of communication open can help. And that's what Mary's House is all about, helping you open up."

"So, feel free to stick around and chat, reach out to me anytime, but unless anyone else has anything... Have a blessed week."

After Mary concluded the meeting and the table was returned to the room's center, my eyes met another pair of dark browns. Martha shifted her gaze away, stood, and hugged herself. Even under her concealer, her skin paled like the sight of me drained the life from her, and her lower lip trembled. Just as her eyes glossed over with tears, she turned and rushed out.

Had I done something? Said something?

My chest squeezed while I watched her small frame leave. My lips parted slightly, but a warm hand palmed my shoulder.

"Will she be okay?" I asked Mary.

"I don't know," she replied with a gentle squeeze. "But I hope so."