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“One night on my ride home, I was listening to music on my phone with my earbuds in. People got off at their usual stops, leaving me and a man who I thought was asleep a few seats down. When we started moving again, the man stood and lunged at me, grabbing my arm and pulling me onto the floor in the aisle. I thought he wanted my purse, so I tried to give it to him. It was when he tossed my purse aside that I realized what was about to happen.”
Jessica’s daughters took each of her hands as she told us the rest of her horrific story. Tears streamed down my face. Mallory’s, too.
“I kept it from my family. I felt embarrassed. Dirty. Used. Pathetic. I quit my job and told my husband that I’d been let go from the firm. I never wanted to step foot on that subway again.” Then, something in Jessica’s somber expression changed, as her chest swelled and her chin tilted upward. “Last year, I met TJ. I’ve been training with him for ten months.”
“And now?” TJ asked.
“Now, I’m in law school. I’m going to be a lawyer.”
“And she takes the subway,” Jessica’s daughter added.
“I never want my daughters to experience anything close to what happened to me. I allowed myself to be a victim for a long time.” She shook her head. “Not anymore. I’m a survivor.”
“Victim versus survivor. Do you understand the difference between the two?” TJ asked, looking around our circle. “A victim is the result of a situation. The result. The end. Your story doesn’t have to end after something heinous happens to you.
“A survivor is someone who remains. Someone who copes with the aftermath and rises above it.” TJ looked at me, a soft yet determined expression on his face. “Are you going to be the victim for the rest of your life, Charlotte?”
Acid boiled in my stomach. The burning crept up my body, spreading out into my arms, and simmered in my throat. “No.”
TJ slowly broke out into a Cheshire grin. “And why is that?”
“Because I am a survivor.”
Twelve
Tanner
“Moana! Moana! Moana!”
“Can’t we watch something else? You’ve seen this movie a hundred times.” I stood and cleared plates from the dining room table.
“Why don’t you put Frozen on?” Mom asked on her way into the kitchen.
“Let it go! Let it go!” Khloe sang as she twirled.
I covered my ears. “Forget what I said. I’ll watch Moana.”
Khloe giggled. “Yay! Moana!”
“You are a tiny tyrant, you know that?”
“But she’s my tiny tyrant,” Dad said, standing from his chair at the head of the table. He held his hand out for Khloe to take. “Lead me to the living room, Kokomo.”
“Daddy, what does tyrant mean?”
I watched with a smile as they made their way into the living room. I stacked as many plates as I could, and was about to bring them into the kitchen when I saw something out of the corner of my eye.
Dad collapsed onto the floor.
“Daddy, get up. Daddy! Are you okay?” Khloe shouted.
I slammed the plates down on the table. I ran into the living room and scooped my father into my arms.
“What’s going on?” Mom asked. Her hands flew to her mouth when she saw her unconscious husband in my arms. “What happened?”
Tears streamed down Khloe’s face as she wrapped her arms around my mother’s leg. “Daddy fell! I didn’t do anything. I promise! He just fell!”
I shifted Dad’s weight in my arms and snatched my car keys off the table near the front door. “Take your car and meet me at the hospital. I don’t want Khloe with me while I drive. I’ll call Chase on the way.”
