Total pages in book: 76
Estimated words: 71436 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 357(@200wpm)___ 286(@250wpm)___ 238(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 71436 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 357(@200wpm)___ 286(@250wpm)___ 238(@300wpm)
Just before I hit the first step though, I look across the space to a set of offices on the western side of the second floor. They’re all made of glass, and I see Corinne Ellery sitting at her desk in one.
When she catches my eye, she waves me toward her.
Corinne is actually the second Jameson employee I had met, although she wasn’t technically a full-time employee back then… merely contracting with the company. Kynan brought her to the federal prison I was housed at in Fort Worth, Texas on that day roughly six months ago when he’d sprung me from my hell. I’d learned she was a psychiatrist whom he wanted there—apparently to gauge if my mind was sound.
At the time, it was a little offensive but in hindsight was probably a good idea. I was actually incarcerated at the Federal Medical Center Carswell, which housed mostly female inmates with medical and psychological issues. It was also home to the high-risk security female inmates. Given my hacking abilities, I was as high a risk as possible.
My seven years spent there, I was lumped in with a lot of other batshit-crazy women, some of which I’m sure probably rubbed off on me.
Regardless, Corinne and I get along really well and I consider her a friend of sorts. Since that time, she’s come on to Jameson full time and works mainly in the area of criminal profiling, but she also provides mental health support to all employees. Some of the shit they go through is incredibly debilitating to the psyche. The most recent example is the fact we lost Jimmy and Sal to the botched mission in Syria, and Malik is still missing. Not knowing if he is even dead or alive is excruciating for most of us, and Corinne has been a busy lady talking through this with various employees.
I haven’t seen her though.
It’s a given fact I tend to internalize and process things on my own, which, granted, isn’t the healthiest way to care for my mind.
I step into her office, but only enough to lean against the doorjamb. I assume she just wants to say a quick hello since it’s been a while.
“Hey,” she says, pushing her laptop aside. “Where are you off to?”
“Just up to my apartment to grab some lunch,” I reply.
She nods. “Kynan told me what’s been going on with Bogachev coming after you and all.”
“Yeah,” I reply with a somewhat frustrated sigh. “It sucks, but I hopefully won’t have to stay here long.”
“He said Aaron and Gloria are out in California.”
“And of course I’m missing them terribly,” I say with a humorless laugh.
“If you want to talk—”
She gets a chiding smile and shake of my head in return. “I’m good.”
“I know this is a difficult time—”
Holding a hand up, I cut her off. She, however, holds her own up.
“Just listen a moment, Bebe,” she murmurs, her voice lilting in an almost-hypnotic way. “You’ve been through so much in your life. Ripped away from your family, isolated in prison, now with a mad man wanting to kill you while separated from your family again. It’s a lot for anyone to handle. I just want you to know… it’s okay if you’re fearful, angry, resentful, or even ashamed by this getting stirred up again. It’s natural. You should be drowning in an array of emotions right now. There’s nothing wrong with talking them out with someone.”
I don’t like the fact that the first thing that comes to my mind after her little speech is a flashback memory of Bogachev raping me. Of all the trauma and misery I’ve endured over the years, that moment is one I believed had been firmly put to rest. Over the years, I had even managed to rationalize it was merely part of the punishment I’d deserved for getting involved with him and his criminal ways. He’d done it to show me his power and that he could hurt me without blinking an eye. He’d done it to keep me in line, and it worked. I allowed myself to get taken down, and I kept Bogachev’s secrets because his lesson was imprinted deeply upon me.
But the rape itself, I had felt somewhat reconciled with. The memories of it had dulled. I dealt with the shame by convincing myself it was my atonement for the bad things I had done. I truly came to believe I’d deserved it. And then I shut it away and forgot about it.
For the most part.
Now Bogachev is back in my life, and it’s clear it’s rearing its ugly head. Sure… I’m incensed he’s coming after me, demanding my life now so he stays safe. But now I’m starting to get pissed about what he did to me too. How low he brought me in that one vile exercise of power and brutality over me.