Chapter 3

On the drive back, I sat alone in the back seat, wrapped in that soaked blanket.

Theresa rode up front, cradling the Juliet roses.

Daniel had the heater turned all the way up.

The warm air had barely reached my frozen fingertips when Theresa complained in that sweet little voice of hers:

"It's too hot. The petals will wilt."

Daniel shut the heater off at once.

"We'll get you a new vase when we're home."

I was soaked through, my teeth chattering so hard I couldn't stop them.

He glanced at me in the rearview mirror.

"Just hang on a little longer. We're almost there."

Not one petal of the flowers in Theresa's arms could be allowed to suffer.

And me, having just been pulled out of the river with my life, I could stand to be cold a while longer. It didn't matter.

Once we were home, I locked myself in the bathroom.

The moment the hot water hit my shoulders, I could still feel those hands pressed against me.

Rough palms, slick with sweat, sliding up from my calves inch by inch.

Every stroke deliberately slow.

They had pinned me to the cold wall and laughed against my ear:

"Scream louder."

"Nice body on this one. Real smooth to the touch."

That sickening feeling clung to my skin like filth that wouldn't wash off.

I scrubbed at my body, hard.

Until my shoulders, my neck, my arms were all raw and red, until blood beaded up, and still I felt those hands hadn't left.

My phone started buzzing, one message after another.

A dozen came flooding in at once.

Coworkers, classmates, even people I hadn't spoken to in years, all sending the same video link.

The title read:

【A Psychology Master's Case Study: Confronting a Trauma Patient With Her Fear, and at Last She Stops Self-Harming.】

The account that posted it was Theresa's.

In a single night, the views had already passed three million.

In the video, three men dragged me into an alley.

Their faces were all buried under thick blurring.

Mine was clear enough to see the tears.

The camera caught every second of the men's hands moving over my body.

It caught my collar yanked down past my shoulder, baring a stretch of pale skin, my skirt riding up as I struggled.

Off-camera, Theresa narrated in a calm voice:

"The subject continues to call out her fiancé's name. A textbook case of dependent distress."

"At this stage the therapist must not offer comfort rashly, or it will reinforce her pathological dependence."

The comments were all praising her.

【Ms. Swanson is so professional. A patient like that would've driven me crazy long ago.】

【The actors didn't actually touch her. Crying that hard is way too dramatic.】

【Her fiancé's such a good guy, marrying a mental case and still standing by her through treatment.】

【Her clothes aren't even all the way off. Guess the therapy wasn't thorough enough? Need the full version.】

Someone recognized my face and posted my name and where I worked in the comments.

A coworker asked me, treading carefully:

【Is that really you in the video?】

【The whole work group chat is passing it around now.】

I ran out of the bathroom clutching my phone.

Theresa was sitting in the living room, excitedly refreshing the view count.

When she saw me, she smiled and held up her phone.

"Maya, guess what?"

"My advisor's seen it."

"He says this case has real research value. A genuine reaction is worth so much more than the theory in the textbooks."

I stared her down.

"Take it down."

"Those men were all blurred out."

I pointed at the screen, my voice shaking, and I couldn't stop it.

"Why am I the only one who isn't?"

Theresa explained it like it was obvious:

"Your facial expressions are crucial data for observing trauma response."

"If I blurred you out, how would anyone see the treatment working?"

I almost laughed from sheer fury.

"Did I say you could film it?"

"Did I say you could put any of this online?"

The living room went quiet.

Daniel finally set his phone down.

"I agreed to it on your behalf."

I stared at him, dazed.

He came over and, the way he used to soothe me, gently took hold of my shoulders.

"Maya, you're not stable right now. A lot of your decisions aren't rational."

"You give up a little privacy, and millions of people get to understand this illness. That counts for something meaningful."

Just then, HR from the company called.

They informed me, delicately, that clients had already come across the video and were worried my mental state would affect my work.

Until the outcry died down, the company wanted me to stay on leave.

After the call ended, I didn't speak for a long time.

Theresa gave a soft little sigh.

"You can always find another job."

"Miss this chance at treatment, and you might never get out of it, not for the rest of your life."

Daniel nodded too.

"The most important thing for you right now is getting better."

"It's not like I can't afford to support you. Don't make things hard for Theresa over something this small."

Something this small.

My dignity, my job, and the nightmare I'd fought so desperately to forget.

In his eyes, they were all just something this small.

I said nothing more. I only wiped the tears off my face and walked out the door in a daze.

Behind me, Daniel started to come after me, but Theresa caught him by the wrist.

"Let her cool off on her own. You go running after her to coax her every time. When is she ever going to learn to control her emotions?"

"Honestly, even as her best friend, I can't stand to watch her go on like this."

The instant the door closed, I heard something in my chest.

Quietly, without a sound, break apart.