Chapter 9
Chapter Nine
The laptop sat on the desk in her spare room, almost mocking Steff. Apart from checking her emails every few days, she didn’t do much else on it. Unlike before her attack, when she would forever be trawling the internet for any hint of something major going down in the entertainment world.
Some people may have thought what she and Cynthia did–working the entertainment beat–was frivolous, but she’d loved it. There was nothing better than dressing up and going to a red-carpet event.
She and Cynthia had been such a good team and good friends. Their friendship was different now.
Perhaps if she’d made an effort to retain the relationship the two of them had had, then maybe she wouldn’t have slid as far down into her lonely existence as she did. Cynthia had certainly tried.
Her therapist suggested that she bring Cynthia along to one of their sessions, if Cynthia wanted to, so they could work through some of the issues Steff was having.
Steff hadn’t called her friend, and told her therapist that Cynthia didn’t want to come because she was doing work with her own therapist.
Steff had no idea if that was true, but she’d had to come up with a valid reason for why her friend wouldn’t have been there. Even though it was all a lie. It was after that session that Steff didn’t go back.
She’d been her own worst enemy. Not doing what she could to help herself.
Did she like wallowing in the pain the attack had caused her?
It appeared so, because she half-assed helped herself.
With one last look at her laptop, she turned on her heel and strode to where she knew her phone sat on the kitchen counter. Not allowing herself to second guess what she was doing, she swiped it up, unlocked it, found Cynthia’s contact details, and tapped the number to make a call.
Her heart thumped faster than it normally did, and she could feel the way her blood pumped around her body. Her skin tingled and the paranoid voice in her head was screaming at her to hang-up, but Steff steadfastly ignored it.
She was doing this.
“Steff? Hi, this is a surprise.”
Steff’s eyes drifted shut at hearing her friend’s voice. They’d talked every day for years, but in the last two years, she could count on one hand how many times they’d chatted, without it being a text conversation. “I’m sorry,” she blurted.
“What? What for?”
She sat with a thud on the nearest chair. “For being a bad friend.”
“I could’ve been a better friend, too.”
Nope, she wasn’t going to allow Cynthia to take part of the blame.
“No, you’re the one who hasn’t given up.
You kept ringing me those first few months after we were freed.
I was the one who ignored all your efforts.
But that didn’t stop you, you reverted to texting me.
You’ve done everything. Don’t ever say you could’ve been better. It’s me. I could’ve tried done more.”
“We could go back and forth and take the blame that we both feel. What good would it do if we did? What do you say we put it behind us and look forward?” Cynthia suggested.
Her friend was being very generous, and the last thing Steff was going to do was throw it back in her face.
Besides, Cynthia was right, nothing good would come of arguing as if she needed to punish herself even more.
“I’d like that very much. Our text conversations didn’t go into too much detail about our personal lives, so what are you doing with yourself? ”
“I’m doing some freelance work for some online sites. It’s fun, but not the same as working at the paper with you.”
Her former employers had told Steff that she could take as long as she needed and they would hold a job for her. She assumed that they’d done the same for Cynthia. But after six months, Steff knew she would never return, so she formally resigned. “Did you quit the paper too?”
It was better to ask than to speculate and come up with the wrong answer.
“I went back after, you know. And it was okay for a while, but I couldn’t go out at night when I was needed. So, in the end I thought it best to quit until I’m ready to face being on a crowded street again.”
The very idea of being at an event like the one Cynthia described had her skin crawling, as if she’d stepped into an ants’ nest and they were climbing up and down her legs.
The fact Cynthia had said she was doing freelance would suggest she still hadn’t found the courage, or strength to do that just yet.
“How long ago did you quit?”
“A year ago. I’m still working with my therapist, and I’m getting better.
I don’t want them to win. By not living my life the way I had before being taken, means those fuckers still have control over me.
And I don’t want that to happen. I’m going to reclaim my life.
” The resolve in Cynthia’s voice was plain to hear, and she admired her friend immensely.
Cynthia also made good points. Points Steff hadn’t considered. It was still a hurdle she wasn’t sure she could get over. “Aren’t you scared though?”
“Yes, it would be unbelievable if I wasn’t.
But we know that us being taken was part of something bigger.
That there were other things in play. Circumstances we couldn’t control.
We aren’t to blame for what happened to us, Steff.
The people who took us are. And from what Teresa has told me, the people behind it are dead. ”
Steff wanted to believe that with her whole heart, but if that was the case, then Dalton wouldn’t need to go off and do what he did for the government. She was pretty sure they weren’t doing trips to hand out presents to people.
He was a former SEAL; they did bad shit.
“Maybe.”
“Do you still see a therapist?” Cynthia asked, and Steff wasn’t surprised by the question, answering it, though, was another thing.
“No, I stopped a while ago. But I think I need to go back.” That was a copout, and she knew it. “No, that’s not right. I know I need to go back.”
“It’s hard, reliving everything.” Cynthia’s voice was low, and Steff struggled to hear what she was saying.
“I didn’t want to. I avoided answering my therapist’s questions until it got to the stage where she pushed me until it all burst out of me.
Some could say it was cruel what she did, and at the time I hated her for making me be back in that moment.
I didn’t see her for two months. After I calmed down, I realized it was the best thing for me. ”
Had Cynthia experienced the horrors that Steff had?
In the back of her mind, she’d considered that her friend might have been treated the same way, but other times, Steff believed that it was only her who’d had to deal with what she’d gone through.
How selfish of her.
“I’m so sorry. I didn’t know.” The words sounded hollow to her ears.
“Of course, you didn’t. Just like I don’t know what they did to you, but I can imagine it was just as bad or worse.
Seriously though, Steff.” Cynthia paused, and Steff braced herself for some hard truths she was sure were about to come out of her friend’s mouth.
“If you’re struggling badly, and I get the feeling you are, get help.
I’m not saying it will go away, it won’t ever, but each day is easier because of the help I’m getting.
Even if it’s from another friend instead of your therapist. Both would be ideal, but you know what will work for you. ”
Steff didn’t have any other friends. Cynthia had been the closest thing she’d ever had to a best friend, and she’d put up walls when they both could’ve leaned on each other.
You have Jag.
Perhaps she did, but did she really want to burden him with all that she’d experienced? He’d seen the aftermath, and no doubt, had seen other women like her, so he must have a fair idea of what had happened to her.
Could she tell him?
She didn’t know.
One thing she did know though, after talking to Cynthia, she didn’t want to live the rest of her life like this. It had become comfortable and safe. But wrong. She’d also known that too.
She needed to fix it. Fix herself.
Resolve fired through her. In the last few days, she’d taken steps she never thought she would ever do. She’d had dinner with Jag. And she’d called Cynthia. Both intertwined in a way she hadn’t known. “I will get help. Thank you for taking my call and talking to me.”
“Aww, Steff, I’m always here for you. I hope we can meet up in person soon. I miss you.”
She still didn’t feel like she deserved the compassion Cynthia was giving her.
Her friend could’ve kept the door shut that Steff had slammed in her face, but she didn’t.
She was going to take those steps. “I’d like that.
Maybe we can meet next Tuesday for lunch?
” If she didn’t make concrete plans now, she never would.
“Sounds perfect. We can work out a place closer to the day.”
“Great. Bye Cynthia.”
“Bye Steff, and look after yourself.”
“You too.”
They disconnected, and Steff clutched the phone tight.
The conversation had been confronting, but also healing.
Like committing to lunch next week, Steff didn’t put her phone down.
She pulled up her contacts, found her therapist’s number, and made the call that would be another step in her healing journey.
One she should’ve taken a long time ago.