Page 148 of Trailer Trash

So I sit here. In this office. Soft gray walls. A leafy plant. Two chairs angled toward each other instead of separated by a desk. Even the tissues are positioned within easy reach. Somehow, knowing every detail was chosen to make me confess only makes the room feel less safe.

Dr. Jannis adjusts her oversized glasses. “Have police charged him yet?”

“Killian? No. Evan won’t identify him. His parents called what happened at the mansion a family matter, and I never reported what he did to me. Nobody knows where he is.”

“That must be terrifying for you.”

I fidget, telling myself that yes, I should be scared of him.

I’m not.

“It must be terrifying for your friend as well,” she adds.

“My friend? Oh... yes. Evan.”

I keep burying that detail. Killian did visit Evan. He broke into his house and choked and beat him senseless. I had no idea until the police showed up at my trailer a few days later to ask me questions.

“Is your friend Evan recuperating all right?”

“I think so. I visited Evan only once in the hospital. He is afraid Killian will attack him again if we talk. He asked me to stay away.”

“That seems reasonable. It was a gruesome attack. Evan was mounted above his bed like Jesus on the cross. Knives were stabbed into his hands like nails to support his weight. The doctors said your friend will never have full use of them.”

My lungs expand, and I hold my breath. I didn’t attack Evan, yet guilt hangs over my head. I chose to be in Killian’s path. Evan didn’t.

“I missed the signs,” I explain, my voice rushed. “His parents missed the signs, too. His dad said Killian never spiraled that fast and thought he had plenty of time before Killian got dangerous. We all missed the signs!”

Dr. Jannis glares at me for a moment, as if she is challenging me to continue.

I slump in my seat. “I feel awful for Evan. I really do. I get it. What Killian did was... there’s no excuse.”

“What do you want to accomplish during your time in therapy?”

“Men make me nervous now. Male patients standing too close. Classmates brushing past me. But not Killian.” I pick at my nail. “He’s the one man I should fear, and he’s the only one I don’t.”

“Okay.”

“Also sleep. I don’t sleep well. When I do, I dream about him. I miss our late nights talking at the beach, watching television, and waking up close to each other on the couch. I don’t know why I ignored the fact that he didn’t go to his comfortable bed. I told myself that he liked the couch. I think he really liked me.”

“Your abuser.”

“Yeah. Killian.”

“Your rapist.”

I wince. “Yeah.”

My hopeless heart doesn’t want to hear anything bad about Killian. I keep going back to him kissing my temple like I’m sacred. Or him gifting me a car because he wanted me to be safe. Or how he spent months trying to be a man I would want, and I didn’t see it. I saw temptation wrapped in a temporary paycheck.

I was too scared to risk everything for him, like he claimed. I hate that I was right.

“Harlow, it is easy to romanticize the man who attacked you. It makes the trauma less terrifying.”

“Right,” I whisper. “He was on drugs, though.”

“I see.” She smiles warmly and writes on her notepad. “There are never easy answers when it comes to addicts and the awful things they do. However, their drug use shouldn’t give them an excuse to hurt you.”

“Right,” I say once more. “Maybe he wouldn’t have done that stuff if he was sober, though.”