Chapter 33
AVA - LEGEND
Grief doesn’t burn the same way after a year.
It doesn’t scream. It doesn’t claw.
It simmers. Quiet. Tired. Familiar.
Like smoke under the skin.
It had been a year since Sofia was...
It had been a year.
And he was still free.
The year had passed in blurs of highs and lows.
Love and loss.
Moments of clarity. Moments of madness.
Wins that felt hollow. Losses that made me question why we kept doing any of it.
I stood at the back of the room, heels pinching, breath shallow, watching strangers take their seats in rows of folding chairs that had never been this full.
We’d done these fundraisers before, held raffles, given speeches, and shaken hands with city officials who showed up late and left early.
But this one felt different.
It was the first time we’d sold out. The first time, we had to switch to a bigger room to accommodate the demand.
The first time, the crowd wasn’t just regulars and loyalists.
First time I saw faces I didn’t recognize mixed with people who’d never used to care.
People were finally paying attention.
And I knew why.
Because Remi Carter didn’t know how to let things die quietly.
She stepped onto the stage without ceremony. No fanfare. No preamble.
Just her and a mic.
Remi wore black.
Not the flirty kind, not cocktail lace or glittering straps or whatever trendy excuse people used to make grief look fashionable.
No, this was raw grief.
Fitted to the collarbone. Long sleeves. No shine. No frills.
A dress that on anyone else would’ve looked plain. Severe.
But on Remi?
It looked like elegance dipped in rebellion.
Like armour stitched from silence and grit.
She didn’t need sparkle. Didn’t need to flash skin or wear soft colours to make people comfortable.
She stood there in black, not to mourn, but to remember. To remind.
It wasn’t fashion.
It was defiance.
And she wore it better than anyone else in the room ever could.
Looking at her, you’d never know she’d faced down a drugged-out giant three weeks ago.
That she’d taken the brunt of a man’s violence so another woman could live.
She stood tall like nothing could reach her now.
And maybe nothing could.
I felt Harlan shift beside me, the tension in his shoulders coiling like he already knew this speech wasn’t going to go down easy.
Jack was here too, standing off to the side of the crowd, arms folded, tie loosened, eyes fixed on her like he wanted to stop time just to keep her in it.
Then Remi started speaking.
“The proper thing for me to do, to start off this evening, would be to thank you all for coming. For showing up,” she began.
“But in respect for the actual reason we are here, which is not your egos... I’m not glad or thankful or appreciative.”
The room went still.
“We shouldn’t have to be here. I shouldn’t have to stand on this stage and tell you why it is not okay that a twenty-year-old woman was murdered in a space that should’ve been safe, by a man who said he loved her.”
A few people gasped. Some murmured.
“Sofia Cross was so much more than a statistic,” Remi said.
“She was brave. She was sweet. She wore long sleeves even in summer, a habit she picked up to cover the bruises. She was all kinds of crass once she got to know you. She asked for help, as most of you would assume, in all the wrong ways. She finally saw the value in herself. Saw her worth. She’d signed up for college and had asked to work with Ava and I after graduation.
Because she wanted to be to someone for someone else, like we were to her. ”
The room held its breath.
“I’m not here to give you comfort,” Remi said.
“That’s not what this event is for. The Carter Sinclair Clinic was never about making people feel good about their ignorance.
It was about making them feel accountable.
About holding up a mirror to the world and asking if you like what you see staring back.
About being there when no one else is. About believing the stories no one else wants to hear and being a constant for people who never knew that existed. ”
A flicker of discomfort moved through the crowd.
Good, I thought.
She’s not here to soothe.
She’s here to scorch.
“I’ve sat across from girls who’ve been traded like property.
Listened to how motorcycle clubs treat women like a commodity.
Boys who think silence or violence are the only safe answers.
I’ve heard mothers lie for the men who broke their children.
And I’ve held hands in ERs while victims asked if they were strong enough to press charges against someone who said they loved them. ”
A murmur in the crowd. Chairs shifted. Someone quietly wiped their face.
“Ava and I built this clinic, this community, because the world keeps creating the same kind of trauma and blaming the people it breaks. We built it because Band-Aids don’t fix bullet holes. Because system failure isn’t a fluke. It’s a pattern.”
And there it was.
The turn.
“This clinic isn’t just a sanctuary,” Remi said. “It’s a warning. A rebellion. A brick through the window of apathy. So, if you came here tonight expecting pleasantries and sugar-coated excuses, you’re in the wrong room and you should probably leave.”
Someone actually gasped.
Remi didn’t flinch.
“People ask me what it feels like to do this work. To stand for those others would rather forget. And the truth is... It’s like trying to hold the line.
Alone. The line stretches on forever, and in front of you is every monster you’ve ever been told to fear.
And behind you is everything you love. Every victim.
Every survivor. Every person who was told they didn’t matter. ”
I looked around.
Breath's hitched.
Eyes shone.
“That’s what it feels like to do what we do.”
Remi scanned the room, holding people’s eyes until they looked away.
“So, what is tonight for? It’s for the girls who didn’t make it out.
For the ones still texting old numbers and hoping the man who broke them says he’s sorry.
For the ones who stay because they were taught love excuses pain.
For the boys who were told not to cry. For the ones too tired to scream and too scared to leave. ”
She paused. Let it breathe.
“I won’t stop. Not when it’s inconvenient. Not when it’s ugly. Not when the same badge meant to protect becomes a shield for silence. I won’t stop. Because the monsters never will.”
I didn’t realize I was crying until I felt the tear hit my wrist.
Harlan’s hand brushed mine, but he didn’t take it.
He just stood beside me.
Still.
Letting the fire wash over us.
“This is for Sofia. For Jenny, Lia, Becca, Katie Grace, and Annalise,” Remi said.
“For Ben, Charlie, Alex, and Mark. For every broken boy who doesn’t know how to be a man. For every fight still coming. Every story still silenced. And for every one of you in this room who now has to decide if you’re going to keep being part of the problem… Or stand with us. And hold the line.”
She stepped back from the mic.
And the room rose like a wave.
Applause erupted, not polite, not rehearsed.
It was thunder.
A roar.
People didn’t just hear her.
They felt her.
They heard the call.
And I stood there, watching my best friend become something bigger than legend.
Harlan leaned in, voice low. “She’s terrifying.”
I laughed through the tears. “She’s everything.”
He looked at me like he wanted to say something more.
But then Jack stepped onto the stage. Quiet. Steady.
He joined Remi like he’d always been meant to stand beside her.
And in that moment, I wasn’t thinking about everything we were still fighting.
I just let myself feel the win.
And I leaned into it.