War of Hearts (Storm MC Reloaded 2)

He keeps his hand on the nape of my neck. “Why haven’t you told anyone?”

I stare at him, ashamed of my shame. It’s a vicious fucking cycle. “I’ve felt too ashamed. For having a one-night stand, for not stopping him when I wanted to, for falling pregnant”—my voice cracks—“for having the abortion.”

His eyes flash with steel again, but it’s quick and then it’s gone. “For one, there’s nothing to be ashamed of for choosing to have a one-night stand. The only kind of sex to be ashamed of is the kind you force someone into, so from where I’m standing, the only one who should feel fucking ashamed is the motherfucker who forced himself on you.” His voice softens. “As for having an abortion, I’ll never know what that feels like, but I’m betting you made what you thought was the best choice. When life gives us a shitty situation, we have to choose from shitty options. You need to find a way to give yourself grace, Zara.”

Grace isn’t something I ever imagined Fury talking about. “Grace?”

He nods. “Yeah”—his voice thickens with emotion—“after my father died, my mother struggled with having allowed her sons to grow up in a home filled with violence. She beat herself up over the fact she didn’t try harder to get herself and us out of there. One night when I was fighting against some bad shit I did, she told me to give myself grace. A free pass. She said grace was the only thing that ever kept her going.” He lets go of my neck, his hand gently brushing across my hair as he lowers it. “She told me grace heals the fractures of our heart.”

The emotions coursing through me after he says that have nothing to do with what we’ve been talking about, and everything to do with the fact Fury just gave me a piece of his soul. Placing my hand over his heart, I say softly, “I knew you weren’t all black in there.”

His eyes search mine, looking for what, I’m unsure. “When’s your next appointment with the shrink?”

“Next Tuesday.”

“You need to bring that forward.”

I know he’s right, that I need to do that, but still, apprehension tightens my chest.

Fury doesn’t give me an out though. And if I thought King was a pushy hard-ass, Fury gives him a run for his money. “If I have to put you in the car and take you myself, I will, Zara. It’s one thing to tell me this stuff, and another to tell someone who can actually help you find ways to live with it.” He reaches for my phone on the counter. “Is your shrink’s number in here?”

“You’re being serious right now, aren’t you? You’re going to call and make an appointment for me.”

He nods, his expression firm. “Deadly fucking serious.”

I snatch the phone from his hands and pull up the number he’s after. I call it myself, though, while muttering, “Bloody bossy men in my life.”

Fury stays where he is while I make an appointment to see the psychologist tomorrow. When I end the call, he moves away and says, “You want some breakfast before I take you home?”

My hand goes to my stomach at the thought of food. “God no. I think I might throw up if I eat. And I’m pretty sure you’ve seen me throw up enough times.”

“Yeah, I’m pretty fucking sure I have, too.”

I laugh at his face. He kinda looks ill. “You don’t do well with vomit, do you?”

“Fuck,” he mutters, “Stop talking and start walking to the car.”

18

Zara

* * *

“I don’t understand why I don’t feel different towards guys,” I say to my psychologist the next day. “I feel normal. I mean, there’s even this guy I’m interested in. I’m not scared of him or anything.”

I’ve been painfully honest with her during this session. At times, I felt like I couldn’t breathe and like I wanted to run again, but I didn’t. I stayed and told her everything that happened that night.

I’m still finding it hard to call the sex I had, rape. It’s like there’s a disconnect between what happened and what I actually believe.

The psychologist leans forward, looking at me with kindness. “Zara, you’ve experienced trauma. Between the sexual assault and the mugging, you have a lot to work through. There’s no right way to deal with this; there’s just your way. Just like there’s no one way that people who are raped respond while it’s occurring. When fear takes over the brain, it impairs the prefrontal cortex, leaving you to rely on habits and reflexes. If no escape is detected, extreme survival reflexes kick in and include reactions such as freezing and dissociation. Some people freeze while some fight back. Some resist while some cry. Some pass out while some dissociate. What you need to understand is all these responses are brain reactions to the fear of a predator.” She pauses. “Your path to healing will take its own route, too. How you recover will look vastly different to how someone else recovers. Society often expresses the view that victims should look a certain way and react a certain way when that is not the truth.”

Tears stream down my face as she speaks. I’m so overwhelmed by everything. Up until I talked with Fury, I viewed the events of that night in a certain way. It was the night of my mugging. Now, it’s beginning to feel like the night I was raped. And I don’t know what to do with that.

When I don’t say anything, she says, “I’m going to give you some links to various resources online where you can read up on all of this. It’s important for you to educate yourself so you can learn to let go of the shame and self-blame. Also, I recommend journaling your thoughts and feelings. And practicing the self-care we’ve already discussed. Your healing will take time and a lot of patience. And as for feeling normal and being interested in someone, just remember there is no normal when it comes to this, there’s just your individual journey. I recommend if you do pursue a relationship, you perhaps take it slowly and go in with the understanding that your reactions to certain things may not be what you are used to. And that’s okay. Communicating your needs is key.”

I wipe my tears. I feel like all I do lately is wipe bloody tears. “Thank you.”

As we stand, she smiles warmly at me. “Be kind to yourself, Zara. And take it one day at a time. Also, if you feel like you need or want to see me more often than weekly, do it. Talking is therapeutic.”