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If we can get through this conversation, I know we’ll be able to get through anything.
I top up all of our glasses and hold mine in my hands, staring at the amber liquid. I figured it might be easier for Callie if I don’t stare at her.
Through my lowered lashes I can see the others had the same idea. We’re all nursing our drinks. I wonder if they have the same feelings of dread that I do.
“It started last year. I got a seemingly random text from someone asking if I liked pineapple on pizza. He said he was my number neighbour, that we had one digit different, and we got talking.” She takes a deep breath, steeling herself, and takes a sip of her drink. “We talked for weeks, texting back and forth, getting to know one another. He said he grew up in the area and went to Crown. There was flirty banter between us and we got close. You guys seemed to be working loads, always out, and I got lonely. He was there. He said he worked at the hospital as a trainee doctor and so he was always messaging at random hours because of his shifts and things.”
I glance at the guys. Devon is barely containing his rage, his knuckles gripped so tightly on his glass that they’ve turned white, and I can almost see the cogs turning in Tex’s mind.
“We arranged to go on a date, a few times, but he always had to cancel at the last minute. Usually because of work. So we would chat on the phone too…” Her voice trails off to a shadow of a whisper and she downs the rest of her drink before adding, “We shared picture messages.”
Wordlessly, I reach over and fill her up again. She nods her thanks and reaches out with shaking hands to grip the glass.
“We finally arranged to meet and he was going to come to the flat to pick me up for our date. I remember the last message he sent to me said ‘I’m coming for you’. I was so excited…but I don’t remember much after going outside to meet him.”
I’m disappointed. I wanted more. Though if anything that douchebag told her was actually true, she’s just given us loads to go off.
“Bullshit!” Devon mutters under his breath.
“Excuse me?” Callie demands, turning to face him, cheeks flushed.
“I said bullshit. You remember everything.”
“I-I-I don’t!”
“You always sucked at lying, firecracker, and your time away didn’t make you any better at it. You remember everything.”
“I don’t.”
“If you say so,” he scoffs.
“You want all the gory details?” Callie says, quiet but angry, staring at her lap. There’s something in her tone that breaks my heart more than her words ever will. “You want to know how I fell like a fool for a guy who played me. A guy who paid my mother for my details, for my body, and who sold me into the depths of hell. Or is it the details of that actual trip into hell that you’re so desperate for? You want to know about the a-abuse that I had to endure in the weeks it took for you to come for me? You want to hear about those details? Or should I just strip off and show you every inch of my scarred and broken body?”
The tension in the air is palpable as we all hold our breath and wait to see what happens next.
“Yeah. I want all of that,” Devon replies, calmly. “I want all of you. Tell me everything, no more secrets. I will do anything it takes to help you recover, but while you’re holding on to this trauma like it’s some secret shame, you’ll never be able to heal.”
“I can’t heal anyway. I’m beyond that. The things they did…”
“Let us make them pay.”
“It won’t make me any better.”
And that’s the crux of it, isn’t it. She’s right. No amount of revenge will mend Callie or undo the horrors she’s been forced to endure.
“If you want Callie to spill her secrets, maybe we should tell her ours,” Tex suggests.
I catch their eyes and I nod.
It’s time.
I sicken myself.
It was easier to give in to begin with. But the thing with these ‘sessions’ is…you end up liking it.
No. That’s not right. The old Callie would never enjoy what’s being done to her.
But this new me? This one they’re shaping and moulding me into?
