Page 69 of The Cult

“I’m not sure. Any ideas?” I ask with a forced smile, knowing the doctor is analyzing every tiny move I make.

He levels his gaze on my face, but I don’t look away, preferring to stare into his very blue eyes. They’re icy and almost flinty, especially for someone who seems to genuinely care about his patients’ well-being. It’s an odd contrast I can’t help but be intrigued by.

“Perhaps you’d like to talk about something new you’ve been doing. How does that sound?”

I shrug, not unhappy to have that conversation. “Well, my story about what happened will be published sometime early next year. I’m pretty happy about that.”

“Is that so? That’s wonderful!” he says with a big smile that shows off his straight, white teeth.

It’s a rare expression of excitement from my therapist, and I have to say it’s a welcome response. My parents are none too pleased that I decided to write about what Rina and I went through. They claim it’s going to humiliate our family. Rina just repeatedly says the book will be a pack of lies, although she never says that to me because she refuses to speak whenever I’m around ever since that night. Nobody seems to care that writing all that I experienced was therapeutic for me.

“I’m happy about it. At least one good thing might come out of all that happened.”

We sit in silence for a long time before he asks, “Are you up to discussing how you feel about what happened with The Golden Light?”

Shrugging, I answer, “Sure.”

For the past six months, he’s asked that question, and I answer the same way every time. Sure. Then I try my hardest to hide my true feelings because I feel so fucking guilty about all that happened.

Today is different, though. When I woke up this morning, I told myself I’m going to give this therapy stuff a chance. Before all of this Golden Light business, I would have said with utmost confidence that I believe in therapy, but I’ve never given it any true effort.

That ends now.

“I’m wondering what your reaction is to all you went through,” Dr. Genero says.

As I think about how to answer, I purse my lips to stop the words from escaping, but I’m not doing that anymore. I’ll never find any peace if I keep everything inside.

“I feel so much that I don’t know how to answer, if I’m being honest. I hate them for taking Nash away and stealing the second chance he deserved. I’m angry at what they did to me and everyone else there. I’m sad at all the people who suffered. I’m hurt that my own sister, my best friend all my life until she got involved in The Golden Light, won’t speak a single word to me but lets anyone who’ll listen know she hates me for taking her away from Micah.”

“How do you feel about what the prosecutors are doing with his case?”

I have no issue with talking about how Micah and his goons, along with Nadine’s stormtroopers, are having to pay for what happened. I find almost too much glee at the idea of them spending time in prison for all they did. I don’t care about Adam having to spend the rest of his life in prison after agreeing to plead guilty in exchange for that sentence.

Well, that’s not exactly true. I probably care too much since I’m sure he’s the one who murdered Nash. I’ve avoided talking about it, even to my therapist, because I can’t stop myself from relishing his punishment. It’s the only happiness I can find in the situation, other than my book.

I take a deep breath in and let it out slowly before answering the doctor’s question. “I’m not sure what I’m supposed to say. I don’t pretend to be unhappy about any of it. I’d love to see them pay with their lives for what they did to Nash and me. And Rina. And all those poor people who believed in Micah. Since I can’t get that wish fulfilled, I’ll take whatever pain the justice system can give them.”

He nods and asks, “Does that give you some relief knowing they will pay for their crimes?”

For a few moments, I think about that question and then smile. “Relief? No. I lost someone who gave his life to protect me, and my sister is a mess and might never get better. Nearly a hundred people, all women and children, took their own lives after Micah said to because he was afraid of what they’d tell the authorities. So no, I wouldn’t call it relief. I’d call it just desserts.”

Dr. Genero nods. “From what I’ve read about the drugging of the members, the torture of that box, and the treatment of women at that farm, I’d say you’re lucky to have made it out alive.”

I’ve told him very little about all of what went on at the farm, but the newspapers have shared the horrible details since some of Micah’s men made deals with the prosecutors to get lighter sentences. “I have Nash to thank for that. I couldn’t have done it without him.”

My therapist says something else he’s read about all that happened with The Golden Light, but I’m not listening. All I can think of is Nash and how much he sacrificed for me.

Sometimes at night when I close my eyes and see his face as clear as day, I wonder what could have been. I was planning to let him stay with me as long as he needed to get used to life outside of The Golden Light. Would we have ended up together? I don’t know.

But if we had, I would have considered myself lucky to be with a man like him. He made mistakes and I’m sure the things he did for Micah would haunt him forever, but when he had the opportunity, he showed he was a good man. I can never pay him back for what he did for me.

“You mentioned last session that you didn’t think Micah would get much time, but I read in the paper the other day he’s going to be sentenced to ten to twenty years, and there will be subsequent trials for what he did to the women in The Golden Light and the suicides of all those people at the farm. How do you feel about that?”

I can’t keep the smile off my face at the idea that Micah and his messiah complex will be getting to enjoy life around hardened criminals who most likely won’t buy his brand of bullshit. If there’s any justice at all, they’ll treat him exactly as he’s due.

And if that means he lives in abject terror for the next decade or two, I wouldn’t be unhappy at all.

“Micah’s sentence makes me think there’s some sort of justice in this world.”

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