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“When I was twelve, I was raped by…” She stops, and several seconds pass before she manages the last two words. “…my grandfather.”
No one gasps or interrupts her. Sam gives her a small nod.
“He was a deacon at our church. When I finally told my parents…” Her fingers twist together in her lap. “…they didn’t believe me.” Claire closes her eyes for a moment before continuing.
My jaw tightens as Claire continues. Her parents never took her to a hospital or called the police, and when she tried telling other people, they punished her until she finally stopped trying. Several people stare at the floor while an older woman quietly wipes away tears. I stay in my chair and let Claire finish. When Claire finishes, the older woman seated to my left gets up and crosses the circle.
“May I hug you?” She holds out her hand and waits until Claire takes it before pulling her into a gentle embrace.
“I believe you,” the woman says quietly. Claire’s shoulders start to shake, and I look away for a moment. She should’ve heard that when she was twelve.
Two more people share before I start paying attention to the young man sitting to my right. He can’t be more than five-five, with messy blond hair, freckles and red-rimmed eyes. He hasn’t said a word since I walked in, but his fingers have been twisting together in his lap for most of the meeting.
Something about him keeps dragging Joey into my head. They don’t really look alike, but there’s enough in his expression that I can’t stop making the connection.
When the last speaker finishes, the young man slowly raises his hand. His breath catches, and for a second, his hand starts to lower before he straightens in his chair.
“Hi… I’m Ben.”
“Hello, Ben,” the circle answers.
He lifts his chin. “I’m gay.” This time, he looks around the circle instead of at the floor. No one reacts, so after a moment, he continues.
“My parents found out when I was sixteen and kicked me out. I couch surfed when I could and slept in my car when I couldn’t, but I still finished high school.” A small, nervous smile appears. “Barely.”
He takes a moment before continuing. “I met Justin when I was nineteen. I thought he loved me. Maybe he did at first, but then he started deciding who I could talk to, where I could go, and what he was allowed to look through on my phone. If I smiled at a waiter, he’d accuse me of cheating.” His voice gets quieter. “I kept telling myself he was jealous because he loved me. I didn’t realize he was slowly deciding how much of my life I was allowed to have without him.” The room stays silent as Ben takes another breath. “Then one night I told him no, and that was when everything changed.”
Ben continues, and the longer I listen, the angrier I get. I keep it to myself and let him finish. Whatever I decide to do with what I’ve heard tonight can wait until I’m out of this room.
When the meeting ends, people linger in small groups, talking quietly or exchanging hugs before heading for the exit.
Ben stands alone near the coffee table, staring into a Styrofoam cup. I make my way over and hold out my hand.
“Nick Warren.”
I’ve used the name enough that it comes easily. Keeping my real identity out of these rooms became a habit long before I came to Philadelphia.
Ben looks at my hand before taking it. “Ben Hargrove.” A full name gives me somewhere to start. I don’t ask him anything else about Justin here. If there’s a trail to follow, I’ll find it on my own once I leave.
Chapter 6 Duncan
Kenji pulls to a stop after Nash turns into the parking lot of an old church. Only a handful of cars are scattered across the lot.
“Kenji.”
“Sir.”
“Find out why he’s here.”
Nash would recognize me, so I stay in the car while Kenji follows him inside.
When Kenji returns, he gets behind the wheel without starting the engine. He’s worked for my family long enough that the hesitation tells me something is wrong.
“What?”
“It’s a support group.”
“What kind?”
