Chapter 7 - THE WOMAN WHO SPOKE FIRST
I gave my statement three days later.
Not in Vincent's office.
Not in a room filled with his men.
At a police station, with an attorney and victim advocate present.
I described what Graham had done.
The threats.
The assault.
The moment I escaped.
I showed the photographs of my injuries.
The doctor documented everything.
I handed over my torn coat and damaged shoe.
When the detective asked whether I wanted to pursue charges, my hands shook.
Then I said yes.
The word felt enormous.
Yes.
One syllable.
A decision Graham had tried to take away from me.
When I stepped outside, Vincent was waiting beside his car.
He didn't ask what I'd said.
He didn't demand details.
He simply opened the passenger door.
I looked at him.
“Can we walk instead?”
He smiled faintly.
“Of course.”
We walked along the river.
The air was cold.
The water dark.
For several minutes, neither spoke.
Then I said, “I thought I'd feel better.”
Vincent looked at me.
“Do you?”
I shook my head.
“I feel terrified.”
He nodded.
“That's understandable.”
I looked at him.
“Does it ever go away?”
He was silent.
Then answered honestly.
“I don't know.”
I swallowed.
He continued.
“But I think fear becomes easier to carry when it stops making your decisions.”
I looked at him.
Then smiled faintly.
“That sounds almost wise.”
He laughed.
“Don't tell anyone.”
May you like
I laughed too.
And for the first time since the alley, I felt something like hope.
