Chapter 3
GWEN
Honey stayed at the cabin when I went to group. Growls and snaps were a common occurrence in the hours that followed her injection. Better to let her rest in bed while us girls sat around rehashing our trauma.
But there’d been no sign of her so far.
With the gloves around my fingers and balaclava pulled up around my nose and head, allowing a few red curls to escape, I wasn’t fighting off frostbite.
As much as I enjoyed the pine trees all around, the silence of winter, even the snowflakes clumping on my eyelashes, I would’ve driven myself if I’d have known she wouldn’t show.
Only a mile remaining of my journey, certain I wouldn’t cross Simone’s path, anxiety budded in my chest. Was everything alright? Had something happened to her daughter, Junie? I couldn’t think of any other reason for her not to be home yet.
Or for her to break our routine. Obviously, I wasn’t entitled to her time, but this was what we had done every Wednesday for the last six months. Something had to be wrong.
Descending the hill, I found my phone in my pocket and sent her a message.
Gwen; Hey, you coming to group?
Snow crunched under my boots as I glided the rest of the way, nearly jogging from the downhill momentum. I had passed the nursery and was only a few blocks away from the rec center when she finally texted back.
Simone; Yeah, sorry. I should’ve texted you. It’s just been a weird day.
We all had those. I couldn’t call anyone at the ranch the pinnacle of perfect mental health.
Simone struggling was a new one though. She was beyond vocal about her anxieties when she was upset. If there was something on her mind, I was usually the first to know about it.
But she respected my space, so I would respect hers.
Gwen; It’s cool, don’t be sorry. Let me know if you need to talk.
My phone dinged again. I expected it to be her, but Sebastian lit up the screen instead. My stomach flipped, before nausea flooded it. Why the hell did just his name give me butterflies?
And why did the butterflies make me nauseous? It was like their wings had razor blades on their tips, scratching me up with each flap.
Sebastian; Hey, Liz told me to ask you about a song you were playing in the dining hall the other day. Something about rainbows and kittens?
I had to laugh.
Gwen; Lmao idk which one she liked, but I’ve only got two songs by Rainbow Kitten Surprise on that playlist, so it was either Wasted or Cocaine Jesus.
His response was immediate.
Sebastian; …that’s not what I was expecting.
Gwen; Lol you asked
Sebastian; When she said rainbows and kittens, I assumed it was for kids.
Another laugh.
Gwen; I don’t think that’s their target audience, no
Sebastian; Where tf do you find this shit?
Gwen; Reddit, if memory serves. And don’t knock ‘em til you try ‘em. Ela’s voice is so dynamic, the lyrics are pure poetry, and they blend rock with EDM beautifully.
Sebastian; Hold while I listen.
Gwen; Holding.
And there I was, walking down the street, grinning at my phone like a little girl.
What the hell was this?
It was no secret that I adored Sebastian. We were friends. Great friends.
But we’d met the day I got here. I’d literally run here in the middle of the night from my husband with a garbage bag of belongings.
Of course I’d noticed how beautiful the green in his hazel eyes were. I’d smiled at the way he wiggled his brows when he spoke, and each time our fingers brushed, chills swept over my skin. Sometimes I caught myself staring at him a moment too long and had to yank my gaze away.
Because he wasn’t interested. Why would he be? He was normal. Stable. He had a career, and a home, and a family.
I worked in a café and lived in a domestic violence shelter.
Why would he be interested in me?
No, this wasn’t a date. I needed to wrangle in those butterflies, because he hadn’t asked me on a date. He’d offered to take me to dinner as payment for teaching his niece piano.
That was all.
My phone dinged again.
Sebastian; Wasted’s heavier lyrically. Cocaine Jesus is catchier.
Gwen; Wasted’s one of my favorites. Try Painkillers(:
I could hear his snarky, blunt voice in the next text.
Sebastian; Every title involves drug use, Gwen.
Gwen; They’re not about drug use, Sebastian. It’s metaphoric.
He followed up with an eye roll emoji.
The rec center was only a few strides ahead now. I stowed the phone into my pocket, tugged down my balaclava, and did my best to ignore those flapping butterfly wings.
I’d never been to therapy before coming to the ranch. Movies always made it look cold and depressing. I wanted to move on from my trauma. Not dwell in it.
But therapy sessions here felt more like a sleepover. A few dozen girls sat around on couches, under fuzzy throws, with steaming mugs of tea or hot cocoa in hand. The pine trees covered in snow out the window added a level of coziness, rather than cold. And the spread of snacks always got me giddy.
After snatching a couple cookies off the table by the door, I sat in my usual spot on the floral sofa. Legs crossed lotus style, I smiled and said hello to everyone who walked in. All the faces were familiar at this point.
A couple thousand of us lived here on the ranch. I didn’t know each and every name or story, but I could pick out any of these faces from a crowd.
Except for one. She walked in at five ‘til 7, only minutes before group started, wearing a pair of baggy sweatpants and a bleach-stained hoodie. I recognized the look, even if not the person wearing it.
Her blonde hair was grown out, brown roots exposed. She wore a bit of makeup, but not enough to mask the dark circle, or the swelling, around her left eye.
Her round cheeks told me she couldn’t have been older than twenty.
She stopped at the entrance a moment longer, looking around the room. Most of the other girls gossiped amongst themselves, not realizing she was here. I waved at her, getting her attention.
“You can sit wherever. There’s room here if you want.” Smiling, I scooched over. Usually Simone sat there, but she wasn’t here yet and I know she’d appreciate me making space for the newcomer. “If you’re hungry, grab something to eat, something to drink. Just make yourself at home.”
She forced a tight-lipped smile, nodding.
Probably as uncomfortable as I had been my first day here.
She visited the snack table then joined me on the sofa, placing the small paper plate of chips and cookies in her lap. “Thanks.”
“No problem. When did you get in?”
“Early this morning.” Her voice was soft, shy. Between nibbles on her cookie, she only spared me a glance or two. “How long have you been here?”
“Almost a year.” And yet, it seemed like a decade. “What’s your name?”
“A—I mean, Delilah. My name’s Delilah.”
I extended a hand. “Gwen.”
Grip soft, she shook it. “Is that the one your parents gave you? Or the one you gave yourself?”
“The latter.”
Another smile, this one more genuine than the last. “How long did it take you to get used to using it?”
“A couple weeks. Sometimes I still have the reflex to say my old one, but I was answering to Gwen in the first few days.” Settling back in on the sofa, I stifled a yawn. “It’s all surreal at first. Leaving is surreal at first. This place makes it a lot weirder. A lot better, too.”
A humorless laugh escaped her. “Better than where I was yesterday.”
Behind Delilah, the metal door to the room clicked open again. This time, a familiar face walked through.
Rhiannon was in her usual: a pair of barn-stained blue jeans and a Carhart hoodie.
Tightly braided black curls hung to the center of her back, ending in a rainbow of brightly colored beads, covered with a beige beanie.
She wore a bit of makeup, as she always did.
Just a pop of pink on her thick lips and a speckle of golden eyeshadow at her inner corner.
The only thing out of the ordinary were her white thick-rimmed glasses.
She glanced around the room, her warm brown eyes settling on Delilah. When Rhiannon saw Delilah with me, she smiled. Grabbing a couple of cookies from the table, she said, “Alright, ladies, we’re gonna get started.”
The room quieted, only dull pop music playing softly from a speaker in the corner.
“Digging the glasses, lady,” one of the women in the back said.
Rhiannon cozied into one of the sofas across from me, propped her legs up on the chaise, and covered her mouth between chews on her cookie. “I ran out of contacts, and it’s gonna take a couple weeks for new ones to come in. Gotta deal with these damn things sliding off twenty-four-seven ‘til then.”
“They are cute though,” I said.
“They’re a damn nuisance,” she said. “Anyway. Everybody, this is Delilah.” She waved at her. “Just got in this morning. We all know how rough it can be the first few days, so try and help her feel at home.”
With bright red cheeks, Delilah waved awkwardly around the room.
“It’s been a while since we had a newcomer on a Wednesday,” Rhiannon said, “so I thought we’d start out today’s session with something I haven’t done in a while.
I want to talk about our last straws. The ones that broke the camel’s back.
We all have something, big or small, that was our, ‘I’m done,’ moment.
I think talking about them might make Delilah feel a little bit more secure in her decision to leave. So. Anyone want to share?”
Not me. Hearing other people talk about what happened to them, the demons they battled every day since, was more therapeutic than talking about my own.
“I will.” A girl on the other end of the room raised her hand.
When all eyes were on her, she pulled a throw blanket from the back of her sofa and snuggled it around her body.
“I’m Eve, by the way. I’ve only been here a few months, so I’m still adjusting, too, Delilah. If you ever want to talk, I’m around.”
Delilah muttered a thanks.