Page 7 of Did They Break You

My stomach twists into knots.

“Yeah, Sloane,” I say, taking one hand from my pocket and shoving a lock of orange hair behind my ear.

“How is she these days?” Dr. Ravi asks, dropping her pen and settling into her chair. A tactic she uses when she doesn’t want me to go so soon.

I sigh, running my hand down my jeans.

“She’s great,” I tell Dr. Ravi. “I stayed with her over the summer.” Worked at the only coffee shop in Aben. Saved it all,because aside from work, I rarely left the guest room the Stevens let me use.

“Get up to anything fun?” Dr. Ravi asks, as if she knows that Idefinitely did not.

I slept with a nightlight. Had nightmares. Woke up sweaty and sometimes, screaming.I’d gasp in the night, remembering their hands all over me. Them, inside of me. And that hollowness I felt in the aftermath.

Thinking that’s all I was good for. Being used.

“Nope,” I answer Dr. Ravi. “Not really.” I stand, tugging down my black hoodie, clenching my phone again. My palms are sweaty, and I know it’s going to be hot as hell on the ten-minute walk back to the dorm, but I made sure I couldn’t take this hoodie off.

I don’t even have a bra underneath it. It’s baggy enough that no one could know that by looking, but I know.

I grip my phone tighter.

And for a second, I’m looking for it again. Crawling on my hands and knees, in the dirt and bramble of the woods. I’m trying to find where it dropped, but everything seems to spin around me. I was numb from the pain then, numb fromeverything.Then he’s there, dangling my phone in front of my face.

“Looking for this, pretty baby?”

I grip my phone tighter. I don’t think I’ve been without it once since that night. Not for a second.

“I’m going to go,” I tell Dr. Ravi. “See you next week.” I turn to leave, not bothering to be dismissed.

I’ve started to dread these sessions.

I used to find them cathartic. This was a room I could escape to and cry in.

Now, it’s just a place I relive the trauma I want to forget.

“Remi?” Dr. Ravi calls softly as I get to her door.

I close my eyes tight, steeling myself. But I don’t have to say anything, because she keeps talking at my back.

“You have my number in your phone?”

I don’t like the way she asks that question. As if she thinks I’ll need to call her or something. We’ve discussed this. I’m not going to do that. Ever.

I turn to stare at her. She hasn’t brought this up in months. Not since the last time I broke down in her office and cried so hard my nose started to bleed.

Thinking about it makes my face burn.

“Why are you asking me that? You know I do.”And you know I’m not going to call you.

She bites her tongue, literally, her white teeth flashing as she does so with an open mouth. Then she drops her gaze, looking down at her empty notepad. “Just checking,” she says softly, and I know she’s lying.

My blood runs cold.

But I decide to ignore it.

There’s no way…just no way.

I shrug. “Cool, see you next week.” Then I turn and walk out, my head down, my fingers tight around my phone.

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