Chapter Thirty-Four

The campsite was situated at the end of a long, twisting road. We pulled up to it just as the sun was starting to set. As soon as the motor home was parked at our spot for the night, we headed over to the patio off the back of the cabin where Dr. Crimm had checked us in. A large barbeque was billowing smoke into the sky and drawing in campers from the campsites for dinner. We sat at a circular table in the back, watching the families as they ate their hot dogs and burgers.

Dr. Crimm sat with us, her hair pulled up in a ponytail and her white doctor's coat nowhere to be seen. She was one of us, laughing as a little girl in a tutu spun around like a ballerina, only stopping long enough to take a bite of her hot dog before starting her dance again. Out there in the middle of nowhere it was easy to envision starting over and hard to imagine not wanting to be a part of this world any longer. These were snapshots of a life we could all survive, and for the first time in a long time, I think we all wanted to try.

"Did you always want to be a psychiatrist?" Aideen asked, hugging her legs against the chilly evening air.

Dr. Crimm shook her head. "No. At one time I wanted to be a police officer, but then everything changed." She set down her soda and brushed her bangs from her eyes. "I was seventeen when I went to a party on the campus at my older sister's school. We made a responsible choice. When I was ready to go home, we called campus security to escort me to my car."

The night went on around us, but our table was hanging on her every word. She paused, her thumb rubbing the scars on her wrists as if they held the memories of that night inside them. "The security guard walked me to my car and then when we were alone, he raped me. I'd had a few drinks, and since I was underage and making the choice to get into my car and drive home, he told me I was breaking the law and that the police wouldn't listen to a liar and a criminal. I believed him."

"He was supposed to protect you," Shima said, her voice filled with dismay and disbelief.

"I struggled with that for a long time. If I couldn't trust the people who were there to protect me, who could I trust? I broke it down in my head time after time, day after day and night after night, until I was convinced that I couldn't even trust myself. I thought I could undo what he'd done to me if I took back control of my body, as if maybe he'd left this diminutive monster inside me and I needed an army of my own conquests to fight it and take back what was always mine. It's not uncommon for women who are raped to act out sexually afterward—some even continue to sleep with their rapists if it's someone they know, but on their terms. It's a struggle for power I can't even begin to wrap my head around now that I've crawled out of that dark place.

"Each time, I thought I would feel better, but I left the bed feeling worse. I grew to hate myself. I trusted no one and that meant I put up all these walls to keep people out, so my world shrunk smaller and smaller while my sins grew bigger and bigger, and eventually I felt like it was more than I could ever balance out. One night I took a man to bed thinking maybe he'd be the one to fix me, and instead he hurt me. I got him out before he could do more than just break my skin and leave a few bruises, but that was when I knew I'd lost all control, and the harder I tried to get a hold on it, the more slippery it seemed to become.

"I filled my bathtub with hot water, added a cup of bleach and climbed in fully clothed, desperate to get the filth off of me. I was trying to clean my soul by scrubbing my skin, but no matter how hard I scoured, it only ever felt dirtier." Her eyes lifted to mine and I knew she had seen my secret that first time we met in the hospital. She had seen the scabs and scars from my efforts to rid myself of Levi's touch. She'd known what I had struggled with and still felt like I was worth saving.

"Koralee," she said from across the table, "it gets better. It doesn't ever go away, so I won't promise you that, but I can promise that it does get better. What you do with the part of you that still lives in that moment with the monster that chose to prey on you is your choice. I've learned to love her. I've learned to share her story with other girls who are struggling, because I never thought anyone could understand what happened to me if it hadn't happened to them. I hope you learn to love that part of you, too, because he didn't take her. He didn't break her. He didn't steal her voice or break her arms—you can still hold her . . . and you can hold others.

"The only thing he took from you that you can't get back is time. Don't give him any more than that." She turned her wrist so I could see the scars clearly. "When I couldn't wash the bad away, I thought the answer was to cut myself open and bleed it out."

"Did you change your mind?" Aideen asked.

"No. My mother found me. I was one of the first teens to go through treatment with R2L." Dr. Crimm stared down at her scars as we listened to her story. "It worked for me. I wanted to help other teens so I decided I'd put all the energy I was spending on my self-destruction into my education. The treatment has changed since my time and has gotten so much better."

"How many groups have there been?" Ken asked.

"Forty-two," she answered.

"Is everyone still alive?" Ken followed up with another question.

"No," she answered. "It's a treatment, not a cure. The numbers are impressive and I think one day it will be a first-line treatment for trauma, but some people are determined to end their lives no matter what we do to try to help them. I can only do what I've been trained to and hope you all find the will to live inside yourselves before you go back home." She pulled her arms back to her body, folding them over her chest. "And I hope that when your time with me is done, you all stay in touch and help each other. If I've learned anything from working with this population, it's that sometimes all it takes is knowing you aren't alone to get through a rough night. This experience has changed you. You won't forget what you've been through together."

"Are you still in touch with the people from your group?" Damien asked.

"Yes. I talk to two of them weekly and the rest every couple of months. We meet up once a year to spend time together in person. There are only five of us now." Dr. Crimm paused, letting us fill in the blank. "They have gotten me through some difficult times in my life. Sometimes the road I'm walking on goes close to the edge and when I fear I'm going to slip I just have to call one of them—any one of them—and they will help to pull me back onto my path. I want that for all of you, too. Please, do that for each other."

We all looked around the table. It didn't have to be said. I couldn't imagine leaving these people and not staying in touch. I was already dreading our goodbye. "We will," I voiced on behalf of the group. I made a vow to myself that I would be the one to make sure it happened. No matter what, I'd make sure we all stayed connected.

Dr. Crimm smiled. "Tomorrow you will meet another alumnus of the treatment. You've met Scott and Lorelei already. We weren't all in the same cohort, but over the years we've met through our work with R2L."

Lorelei had shown me such kindness—it made sense now how she could empathize with us so easily. It made me hopeful that one day I'd be as content as she seemed to be each time she came to work her shift. I began to wonder where the other graduates were and if they thought about each other often or if they tried to forget what they'd seen while they were together.

I couldn't help but wonder about the ones who no longer walked among us. What would it be like to lose someone from my group? I looked around at each of them, feeling an appreciation for their friendship. I didn't want to lose them when I'd only just found them.

"Do you think you'll stay with R2L forever?" Damien asked Dr. Crimm.

Every answer she'd given us so far seemed to come from a place of certainty, so when she paused I felt my stomach drop with apprehension. She looked down to the dirt beneath her feet and seemed to contemplate her answer longer than should have been necessary. Finally she said, "I think I will always help teens. I will do what I can to help them heal during the roughest times of their lives. I will be honest with them like I've sworn to be with you, and I won't change my ethics and morals to bend and sway with the demands of people who haven't walked in our shoes, or who care more about money than mental health." She looked up at us with a curious mix of sadness and resolution in her eyes. "Something has been put into motion that I can't stop. If it comes down to healing a soul or being loyal to a corporation, I'm choosing to live my life with no regrets."

We may not have understood her answer then, but very soon it would all make sense.