Page 44 of Cross + Catherine: The Companion

Where she wasn’t constantly being examined.

“I’m not ready to talk to them about my rape,” Catherine finally said.

“But you have talked with me about it on several occasions,” Cara pointed out.

“You’re not them.”

“Fair enough.” Cara sighed, and then asked, “What do you think is the reason you’re holding back—what is the issue keeping you at this not-ready stage, Catherine.”

“I don’t know.”

“I think you do. Or you have a good idea of what it is. Otherwise, you would have no reason not to tell them, so they could help you and understand you more.”

“But what if they don’t?”

“Hmm?”

Catherine abused her bottom lip with her teeth until she could taste blood. Once she finally let her lip go, she clarified, “What if they don’t understand at all—what if all they can do is find fault?”

“You think they’ll blame you.”

“I think that I don’t want to find out.”

“I genuinely believe that if you were honest with your parents, their response would probably surprise you.”

Catherine scowled at her reflection in the window. Something she hadn’t felt a lot lately came bubbling up before she even understood what was happening.

Irritation and anger.

The only thing she ever seemed to feel was lonely and empty.

It was strange.

And good.

“Why is it up to me?” she asked sharply.

Cara’s calm demeanor didn’t falter as Catherine turned on her. “What do you mean, Catherine?”

“Why is it always the victim who needs to tell—like it’s our only fucking duty to report what happened to us? Why am I the one who’s expected to relive my trauma again and again just to satisfy everyone else around me? I was raped—me. Not you, and not them. Just me. No one should ever have the right to demand a victim to do anything if they don’t want to do it.

“It’s not your trauma—it’s only mine,” Catherine finished.

She was a hell of a lot quieter at the end than she had started.

Funny how that worked.

For a long time, the women simply stared at one another. Cara said nothing, and Catherine waited the silence out.

She had said what she needed to say, after all.

Nothing more was needed.

“You’re absolutely right,” Cara finally said. “It’s not my place to ask you to trigger yourself again and again by telling your story.”

“Thank you.”

“However …”