I drag a breath through my teeth, sharp and unsteady. There’s a rage burning inside me that I’ve never experienced before. When my ex cheated on me, I was devastated and angry, but I’ve never felt this way. I manage to keep it locked down, letting her tell me her story is the priority now.
“At first, I thought…” she squeaks out a broken laugh, “I thought he was helping me, helping navigate my period with hockey. The first few months at the rink, he would have me lie on heating pads before practice. But then… then he started asking when I wasn’t on my period.”
I hold my breath, torn between wanting to know and wanting to run, but there’s no path forward with Annika without the truth—without understanding the events, her triggers, and why the woman who demanded honesty from me in every session didn’t trust me enough to handle her secrets.
“When I said no, that I still have one more week before the next one, he’d… he’d touch me.”
The words splinter on her lips.
I don’t move.
Don’t breathe.
My body freezes in place.
I close my eyes for a second but then I imagine it so I pop them open, hoping to erase the images from my brain.
“This went on for months and I didn’t know what to do. I was so ashamed and embarrassed.”
She sobs, body shaking like nothing I've ever experienced, except when Matt was in the hospital and Noelle collapsed in my arms.
But these aren’t tears of fear.
They’re tears of shame and regret.
I don’t know what to say so I pull her into my arms. At this point, I have no words.
While still in my arms, she chokes out, “He tried to go further and I hit him.” It comes out quickly like she needs me to know that part. Needs me to know she was fighting back. “I hit him with my hockey stick and screamed ‘If you ever touch me again, I’ll tell everyone.’”
I snap back. “Good. He deserved worse.” I take a long swallow and ask gently, “Where was your mom?”
Annika’s eyes fall, tears still falling two and three drops at a time. “She worked nights a few days a week. She was an in-home nurse for a woman who was paralyzed.”
“So he… molested you for weeks? Months?”
“Months. Looking back, things I thought were innocent, weren’t. I know that now. But I finally stood my ground. I told him I’d tell everyone, and he threatened to kill me if I did. And I believed him.”
That’s a reason, an absolutely horrifying one. Someone that would molest a child is certainly capable of killing.
He won because since he threatened her, it meant he could keep doing it to others, knowing she wouldn’t report it.
Something in my chest shifts. Not relief, not even close. Just recognition that she fought in the only way she knew how.
Silence crashes down between us. I can still see by the way her hands shake.
I draw her into my body, and she collapses on my chest like she’s been hanging on too long by a single thread that is now unraveling.
I hold her. Comfort her. Because no one should have to shoulder something so horrendous on their own.
Realization hits. That’s the problem.
She did carry it alone.
Even after she had me.
Her tears soak through my jersey, hot and relentless.
For a moment, I forget everything else.
