Chapter Thirty

Robbie

We had spent the whole morning talking about what had happened. Abi swore me to secrecy, not wanting Maggie to know anything about being attacked. And, of course we would never be able to tell Jason. So, Theo and I were the only ones she could confide in.

“It’s just so hard to believe that you went through that sort of thing for so many years,” she said that morning as Theo worked on something in Command Central, leaving us there to talk before her flight. “I know you’ve been working hard with mom, but—” She paused, and her haunted look caught my breath, tugging at my aching chest. “Robbie, how did you get through it?”

I thought for a moment. I wasn’t sure I had gotten through anything entirely. After a deep breath, I offered, “Abi, it’s a day-to-day struggle to put the past behind me. I’ve come to understand that it’s a unique thing, to be a survivor. I have never actually thought of myself as a victim at all. I mean, when you’re living a situation, you just exist in it. It’s reality, and I didn’t know anything else existed. Until I came to live with you and Jason. And of course, this last year with Theo. Being on this side, I embrace everything. I am so lucky to have a man like Theo, a family.” I reached out and tentatively touched the back of her hand.

After she wiped away a tear, she grasped my hand. Encouraged, I went on. “Abi, that was a nightmare last night. And you survived. And now you’re going home to a fiancé who loves you and get to look forward to a wedding, a brilliant career, a life. I count my blessings all the time and remind myself that I have too much to celebrate to dwell on the past.”

As we finished our waffles, my thoughts turned to what I had learned in my psychology class. About how people are shaped by their childhoods, and how some get stuck in the loops of rumination that become their new cycles of self-abuse. Maggie told me that I should watch out for making friends who are users, and I guess that was what Brent was. I wasn’t sure if any of that applied to Abi, but added, “Just, don’t beat yourself up. I know it’s easy to do.”

“You do, don’t you?” she asked as she helped to clean up.

“Yeah,” I admitted. “A lot. But I’m getting better at recognizing when I’m doing it.”