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"Can't cry over spilled milk," I said. “That's what my counselor says."
A silence passed between us. "You start law school in the fall?"
"Yes," I said and sighed. "I wanted to start right away, but my counselor said I need time off to process everything."
He fixed another couple of blini and handed me one. "Any psychological problems as a result?"
"Yeah," I said. "My counselor tells me I have PTSD. I get panic attacks. I get panic attacks because I'm afraid of getting panic attacks. When my stress gets too high, I have them. Feel like I'm dying. That's why I can't go to school yet, I guess. Too much stress. Too much responsibility."
"That makes sense," he said. "What happened to you…"
I took a sip and changed the subject, not wanting to remind myself of what had happened.
"I'm working at a book store, if you can believe it," I said with a smile. "Shelving books, filling orders, that kind of thing."
Hunter said nothing, but he was frowning as he chewed his blini.
I reached out and touched his arm. "I'm fine, Hunter. I'll adjust eventually."
"No." He glanced at me. "You're not fine. You had a serious trauma. It's all my fault."
"Stop," I said. "It's in the past."
He nodded but I knew he was still upset.
"You must be lonely."
I shook my head. "Not really," I lied, and took a sip. "I'm just trying to get by." I closed my eyes. "I'm getting better, day after day. I'm just glad that Sergei and Victor are dead."
"I am, too."
I glanced at him, at his handsome face, his longish hair falling in his eyes in that sexy way.
"I'm glad you killed him. I wanted you to kill him, but I was afraid you'd go to jail for murder and I really wouldn't see you again."
A silence passed. Hunter fixed some more blini and handed one to me.
"Do you have any friends here? Boyfriend?"
"Boyfriend? Hunter, no," I said with a frown. "I'm still trying to recover."
"Just checking." He said nothing for a moment and the two of us glanced out over the ocean. Gulls flew overhead, no doubt aware of the food we had.
We sat in silence again. I felt a hole in the pit of my stomach. Finally, Hunter leaned over and poured me more vodka.
When he spoke again, his voice was low. "Do you remember what happened to you?"
I said nothing for a moment. "I have these vague memories," I said, anxiety filling me at the mention of that time. I did remember being raped. I remembered men, I remembered pain and humiliation.
"I'm so sorry."
"I wish I could forget but the memories come back, any time of the day or night." I covered my eyes, biting my lip to stop my tears.
Then I felt a panic attack coming on. I stood, dropping my napkin, the vodka glass falling from my hand.
"I have to leave," I whispered. I turned back and began walking down the path. I had gone about a hundred yards before he caught me, grabbing my arm, turning me gently around.
"Celia, I'm so sorry." He tried to pull me into an embrace but I struggled, turning away, panic rising in me as grief and fear overwhelmed me, making it hard to breathe.
