EPILOGUE
EIGHT MONTHS LATER
When Andrea’s lawyers reached out to me, I agreed to give a deposition that would establish a pattern of behavior by Mason and, hopefully, strengthen her case. They told me it could be written, but that it would be more impactful if spoken on video, so I agreed to that, too.
My waking nightmare happened thirty-five months ago.
I have no evidence. Only my testimony, the statement hovering at the back of my throat.
I have no witnesses. Only my experience, the memory seared into my brain like a brand.
I have no proof. Only my pain, the wound sliced straight through my soul. The scar that might never fully heal, no matter how much time passes.
I’m learning to live with it, though.
It’s not about the outcome. For the sake of my mental well-being, it can’t be.
I’ll try to hold Mason Bryce accountable for his actions, but my happiness, my healing, my closure can’t rely on the result.
It’s not my sole responsibility to change his behavior, and no one is pressuring me to do this.
I just decided that I wanted to do this for myself and for Andrea and for Chloe and for any other girls who are afraid to come forward.
I know I might experience the opposite of relief for a while, the opposite of peace, but I’m willing to risk it.
Because even though I’m terrified, a part of me feels… free.
The words still get stuck sometimes, sure, but I say what I need to now, and I feel more than I’ve ever allowed myself to before.
I have support I’ve never had—in my family, who don’t always get it right but are trying harder than ever.
In my friends, who would never turn on me for something that wasn’t my fault.
And of course, in Wes, who I trust more than anyone in the world.
And although he’s not allowed in the room with me, I sense his solid, grounding presence just outside the door. His reassurance gives me strength, his patience gives me comfort, and his unwavering love gives me the courage, the confidence, the conviction to do what I need to do.
They swear me in and place me under oath. They confirm the basics—my name, my age, my location. I suck in a deep breath, and then it begins.
“How did you first meet Mason Bryce?”
Exhaling, I open my mouth, and the words come out.
Not just any words.
The truth.