someone who's never had formal training, just don't be so hard on yourself," he encouraged as he joined her on the floor.
She was surprised as he sat down, and wondered how many people got to hang out with the elusive Mr. Fitzgerald in casual comfort like this. "Tell that to the group, I think they want to have me hung out to dry after today," she shook her head, feeling a little better after his encouraging words.
" Most of those people are so full of themselves that they can't step outside and understand what it's like to be new," he smiled encouragingly. "Now for your promise, tell me who hurt you." He hated to break their strange camaraderie, but if he was going to truly help her, he needed her to keep up her end of the bargain.
"Talk about a subject change," she grumbled under her breath, having forgotten the real reason she was here until that very moment. She really didn't want to talk about this, even though she'd given him her word. Dredging up the past made no sense to her, and she took a deep breath, hesitating.
"Stop stalling, Ms. Wilkerson," he encouraged with a small smile, hoping that talking this out would help her gain some closure.
Rolling her eyes, she whispered softly, "My stepfather." Even thinking about that man made her stomach clench nervously.
"How old were you," he kept his tone even, wanting to encourage her to speak and stop holding her pain inside.
Angry that he brought this up when she wanted nothing more than to forget it, she decided to just lay it all out on the line. "I was fifteen when it started and seventeen when he raped me, okay! I ran away from home and lived out on the damn streets until I met Rachel, and I've never looked back again." Standing up, she needed to put some space between them, because just talking about the past, pissed her off. Even if she had deserved what happened, she didn't have to like it.
He couldn't even imagine having to make those choices at such a young age, and his normally cold heart ached for her. "Why did you live on the street, and not ask for help?" He was amazed that she'd lived through that, and again was astounded at the strength of character it must have taken to overcome a life like that. His own past didn't seem so horrible in comparison.
Glancing at him as if he had was an idiot, she shook her head. "Because I wasn't of legal age when I left and if I'd have went to the police or a homeless shelter they could have taken his word and sent me back. I decided eating garbage out of trash cans was a better life than letting him touch me again." Was he really that stupid, she thought, taking her anger out on him, instead of the man responsible for making her life a living hell.
He knew she'd been hurt by someone, but the horror of her situation was even worse than what he could have imagined. "Have you thought about pressing charges now that you're an adult?" He couldn't imagine allowing someone to get away with such a violent act, even though he himself had never been allowed to press charges after his own abuse.
Turning back to glare at him, she shook her head no. "I never wanted to see his face again, and the thought that he would know where I was, well it wasn't worth the chance that someone might actually believe me. I guess maybe I didn't believe myself that I didn't somehow deserve what he did to me." She'd never admitted that to anyone before, it was her own guilty secret.
"How could you think you deserved that Angela," in his own anger at what had happened to her, he dropped her title and stared at her in shock.
At his sympathy the dam broke that someone else believed she might not be this horrible person, and tears flooded down her cheeks. "My own body betrayed me, he told me that I enjoyed it or that it would have never happened." This was her dirty secret, the shame she'd carried with her for the last five years that still gave her nightmares.
Staring back at her incredulously for her
She was surprised as he sat down, and wondered how many people got to hang out with the elusive Mr. Fitzgerald in casual comfort like this. "Tell that to the group, I think they want to have me hung out to dry after today," she shook her head, feeling a little better after his encouraging words.
" Most of those people are so full of themselves that they can't step outside and understand what it's like to be new," he smiled encouragingly. "Now for your promise, tell me who hurt you." He hated to break their strange camaraderie, but if he was going to truly help her, he needed her to keep up her end of the bargain.
"Talk about a subject change," she grumbled under her breath, having forgotten the real reason she was here until that very moment. She really didn't want to talk about this, even though she'd given him her word. Dredging up the past made no sense to her, and she took a deep breath, hesitating.
"Stop stalling, Ms. Wilkerson," he encouraged with a small smile, hoping that talking this out would help her gain some closure.
Rolling her eyes, she whispered softly, "My stepfather." Even thinking about that man made her stomach clench nervously.
"How old were you," he kept his tone even, wanting to encourage her to speak and stop holding her pain inside.
Angry that he brought this up when she wanted nothing more than to forget it, she decided to just lay it all out on the line. "I was fifteen when it started and seventeen when he raped me, okay! I ran away from home and lived out on the damn streets until I met Rachel, and I've never looked back again." Standing up, she needed to put some space between them, because just talking about the past, pissed her off. Even if she had deserved what happened, she didn't have to like it.
He couldn't even imagine having to make those choices at such a young age, and his normally cold heart ached for her. "Why did you live on the street, and not ask for help?" He was amazed that she'd lived through that, and again was astounded at the strength of character it must have taken to overcome a life like that. His own past didn't seem so horrible in comparison.
Glancing at him as if he had was an idiot, she shook her head. "Because I wasn't of legal age when I left and if I'd have went to the police or a homeless shelter they could have taken his word and sent me back. I decided eating garbage out of trash cans was a better life than letting him touch me again." Was he really that stupid, she thought, taking her anger out on him, instead of the man responsible for making her life a living hell.
He knew she'd been hurt by someone, but the horror of her situation was even worse than what he could have imagined. "Have you thought about pressing charges now that you're an adult?" He couldn't imagine allowing someone to get away with such a violent act, even though he himself had never been allowed to press charges after his own abuse.
Turning back to glare at him, she shook her head no. "I never wanted to see his face again, and the thought that he would know where I was, well it wasn't worth the chance that someone might actually believe me. I guess maybe I didn't believe myself that I didn't somehow deserve what he did to me." She'd never admitted that to anyone before, it was her own guilty secret.
"How could you think you deserved that Angela," in his own anger at what had happened to her, he dropped her title and stared at her in shock.
At his sympathy the dam broke that someone else believed she might not be this horrible person, and tears flooded down her cheeks. "My own body betrayed me, he told me that I enjoyed it or that it would have never happened." This was her dirty secret, the shame she'd carried with her for the last five years that still gave her nightmares.
Staring back at her incredulously for her
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