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“I’m talking to you,” Claire said, marching further into the room. “I know that look. You’re tearing yourself down. You’re feeling embarrassed and ashamed over something that’s not your fault.”
“I can’t help it. It is embarrassing having so many people knowing the worst parts of you,” Angela explained, sitting in the armchair and bringing her knees to her chest.
“The worst parts of him,” Claire corrected forcefully. “Not you.”
Angela closed her eyes, letting her head fall back against the cushions. “I know that. Years of therapy tell me that. But...”
“But your scars have been cut open and are bleeding again,” Claire supplied, sitting across from Angela. “I know.”
“Right.” She forced herself to take a deep breath in, then let it out slowly as she glanced over at her friend. “It makes me mad.”
Claire nodded her head subtly. “I’m mad too. What can I do?”
“You’re doing it,” Angela told her. “Looking me in the eye. Abel won’t,” she revealed, a lump rising in her throat.
“He loves you,” Claire said. “It’s one of his best qualities.”
“What if he never wants to watch Love Island with me again because all he can picture is me getting raped over and over again?” Angela fretted. She immediately regretted her words, but her new friend didn’t flinch or look away. Claire’s stormy gray eyes remained locked on hers, and she was endlessly grateful.
“Give him time to have his feelings. And if he doesn’t snap out of it soon, I’ll talk to him,” Claire offered.
Angela perked up a little at that. She lowered her feet to the floor, sitting up straighter. “You’ll talk to Abel voluntarily?”
Claire rolled her eyes. “Don’t start.”
Angela managed a smile. The tension between Abel and Claire was intense. Too intense, she knew, for it not to implode. She only hoped it was the good kind of explosion, as Roman’s and hers had been. “Fine,” she said. “How have you been?”
Claire looked surprised like she always did whenever anyone showed kindness to her. “Me? Totally fine.”
“Hmm...” Angela was not convinced.
Claire finally looked away, her gaze focusing on the animals for a moment before she cleared her throat. “Honestly, I’m fine. And I’m not here for me. I’m here for you.”
“Everyone is here for me,” Angela muttered, looking in the direction of the hallway. Roman was in his office with Abel, Sal, and Morrigan. The only reason Luca wasn’t there as well was because he’d been up all night on his computers, and Sal had forced him to take a nap.
“You say that like it’s a bad thing,” Claire said.
“It’s not,” Angela refuted. “It’s a miracle. It’s just not what I’m used to.”
Claire’s lips quirked. “Same.”
Angela looked down at her unpainted fingernails, just to give herself something else to focus on. “I hate being the center of attention. Especially under circumstances like this.”
“I don’t blame you,” Claire empathized. She paused for a moment before asking, “Do you want to talk about it?”
Angela shook her head almost violently. “I really don’t. It’s not that I don’t trust you. I’m just...”
“You’re sick of being in the thick of it,” Claire supplied.
“Yes! Exactly.” Angela huffed in frustration, slumping back into her seat once more. “And it’s only just begun. It’s been one day. One. And I feel like I can barely function. It’s like all the work I put into being me over the years is gone. I want to stay here curled in a ball. But I also want to hunt the Foreman down and confront him. I want to face my fears and hide from them at the same time.” She rubbed her forehead where a headache was forming. “It’s confusing.”
“You’re entitled to feel conflicted, Angela. You’re entitled to feel any way you do,” Claire said, reaching out to take Angela’s hand. She squeezed it as she spoke. “There’s no rule book for pain or grief or fear. However you’re feeling at any given moment is the right feeling.”
Angela squeezed Claire’s hand in return. “You get it. You really get it.”
“I do,” Claire confirmed. “So, cut yourself some slack. Try to work with your feelings instead of against them. Like when you’re caught in a riptide, you know how you’re supposed to float with it? If you swim against it, you’re going to end up exhausted and no closer to safety.”
Angela thought about it for a moment, deciding Claire held a lot of wisdom in her compact body. She nodded before she let herself go, allowing her emotions to wash over her. The panic was there, as well as the pain, and her throat burned as if it was on fire. But after a few minutes of silent tears and great gulping breaths, Angela was relieved to discover that there was also a healthy dose of anger. As well as a thirst for revenge.
