“Fell?” Killian suggested, looking her in the eye. “Ran into a door? Slipped? Punched yourself?” She kept her voice toneless—no judgment, no mockery. Just words.
“I thought I covered it,” Maryl said quietly.
“You did, for the most part.” Killian took a sip of her coffee. It was pretty good. “But you’re the one who needs to be a better person, huh?”
Gripping the sides of her chair, the young woman both slouched and leaned forward. “I must seem like such a cliché to you.”
“Him, maybe, but you? Nah.” She curved her lips into a slight smile.
Maryl’s eyes were bright and wet, but she didn’t cry. “Thank you for not lecturing me, or giving me the whole ‘there are people who can help’ spiel.”
Killian shrugged. “That stuff only works if you want it. If you get to that point, you let me know.”
She was saved from having to be understanding by the arrival of other people at their table. It wasn’t that Killian was without empathy; it was just that she honestly didn’t get it. The last guy who hit her ended up, well, dead. Not by her hand, but she’d left him pretty broken at that point.
She didn’t understand not fighting back. She’d tried to fight against her stepfather as a child, but he’d been bigger and stronger. She hadn’t known how to fight him. As soon as she learned to fight, she found herself. She’d started fighting back and she hadn’t stopped. She never let anyone hurt her again, at least not physically, and she never hurt anyone who hadn’t deserved it.
She couldn’t imagine Maryl deserving it.
The two other women at their table were named Belle and Lou. They were strangers to each other as well. Lou’s wife had been put in the other group.
“It’s weird,” she told them, cradling her coffee cup. “I thought we’d go through this experience together.”
“Maybe they think you’ll share more with strangers,” Maryl suggested.
Killian said nothing, just turned her head to face the front of the room, where Mina now stood, smiling and perfect like a mannequin. There was no point in telling them that cults like to divide and conquer.
“Good morning,” Mina said, voice filling the room.
Everyone fell quiet. Killian had known bigger, tougher women who couldn’t command respect with such ease.
“I want to welcome you all to your first official day in Incarnyx. This morning we’re going to isolate the root of your inhibitions and fears and free you from them.” She made it sound as though it was going to be just that simple. Killian wished her luck.
Through the door of the classroom, four women and one man entered, lining up across the back of the room like they were the last defense against a run for the exit.
Killian eyed them warily. They were well dressed, perfectly groomed.
“These are your pilots,” Mina informed them. “They will help you get to where you want to go.”
She couldn’t help it; Killian rolled her eyes. Maryl saw it and giggled, earning them narrow glances from the other women at the table. It wasn’t even ten A.M. and already she wanted to stab someone with her pencil.
There was a “pilot” for each group. Killian’s table was flying with a woman named Natalie who was probably in her early thirties. If she was older than Killian it wasn’t by much. She was a redhead who wore her hair in a sleek bob. She had freckles and bright blue eyes and skin that was so fair it was almost pure white. Her pantsuit was a light cinnamon color and her heels matched.
She sat down in the empty chair to Killian’s right. She smelled like cloves and oranges.
“Good morning, everyone,” she began with a bright smile. Perfect teeth, of course. “I’d like to start by getting to know each of you a little bit. Why don’t we go around the table and you can each tell me what you hope to get out of this weekend. Let’s start with you.” She read the name tag. “Killian.”
Of course she’d want to start with her. Killian cleared her throat. “I want to walk away from my past and build a better future for myself.”
Natalie smiled again. “That’s a lot to ask from one weekend, but we’ll give it a go.”
The others at the table chuckled. Killian forced herself to smile. If only someone would slap her or throw a kick her way. She’d know how to deal with that. This passive-aggressive ridicule chafed.
Maryl said she wanted to work on becoming a better person. Lou wanted to find her confidence, and Belle murmured that she had been painfully shy her entire life and would like to get beyond it. For each of them, Natalie had a cute little response.
“We believe that the invisible bonds that hold each of us back as humans begin in childhood,” Natalie explained. “This is a safe environment for each of you. Whatever you say stays here, in this room. I want you to think about your worst childhood memory—a moment that changed everything. What was it? Belle, we’ll begin with you.”
“When my father walked out,” she replied without hesitation. “There were six of us and Mom had to work three jobs.”
“I’m so sorry that happened to you,” Natalie told her. “Lou?”
“My best friend died of cancer when I was eight.”
“I’m so sorry. Maryl?”
“Seeing my father beat my mother so badly she couldn’t get out of bed for two days.”
“Jesus,” Killian whispered. She reached over and squeezed the other woman’s arm.
“That must have been terrible,” Natalie said in that dispassionate tone. “Killian?”
Might as well go for it. “The first time my stepfather raped me.”
They all stared at her.
Natalie opened her mouth, but Killian stopped her. “I know, you’re sorry. Thanks, but it was a long time ago.”
“Maybe so,” the redhead agreed, “but it’s obvious it still hurts you very much. Do you know why?”
“Because home should be safe and he made it unsafe.”
“Yes, and you’ve never let go of that. You’ve never let go of him. I bet you’ve spent your entire life trying to be safe again.”
If there was one thing Killian hated—more than bullies—it was someone thinking they could get inside her head after knowing her five fucking minutes.
“I was in prison,” she told the “pilot.” “That’s not exactly the place to be if you’re looking for safe.”
“You were in prison?” This was from Belle—wide-eyed. “For what?”
“I tried to beat a man to death,” she replied honestly. “I failed.”
“I imagine prison is a good place for someone who thinks they don’t deserve to be safe,” Natalie interjected, regaining control of the conversation.
Killian arched a brow. “Why would I think I don’t deserve to be safe?”
“Because maybe there’s a part of you that thinks you did something to make him hurt you. You blame yourself for what he did.”
She sucked in a breath. Under the table her fingers clenched into fists. “I blame him.”
Natalie smiled that little smug smile. “Good. But there is something in your past of which you are ashamed, Killian. It’s what won’t allow you to have the life you want.”