Scars of the Past by Kay Gordon Page A

immediately stopped.  “Do you think his love is worth the abuse he gives?”
    Bridget didn’t answer for a moment, and her whole demanor changed.
    “It used to be.” Her voice was small, the false confidence gone. “It really did.”
    “Has your husband ever forced you to have sex with him?”
    Bridget nodded, a tear falling from her bruised eye. “That’s why I have these,” she gestured to her beat up face. “I didn’t want to have sex last night because I’m ovulating, and he got really angry and lashed out. After he finished he cried and apologized, but…”
    “His apologies are getting old.” Sarah finished for her. Bridget just nodded and looked at her feet.
    “We have programs in place that can get you out of there, Bridget. You just say the word and we will make it happen. You can start fresh somewhere else. You just let me know when you’re ready, okay?”
    Bridget just nodded again, still not meeting Sarah’s eyes.
    “But Bridget,” Sarah said. She waited until Bridget looked up at her. “Don’t wait too long. I want to get you out alive, okay?”
    “I know.” Bridget looked away, effectively ending her turn at sharing.
    Sarah’s eyes settled on me, and she smiled. “Would you like to go?”
    I thought about it for a split second, and I opened my mouth to tell her no when Bridget grabbed my hand again. I looked over at her and she was giving me a small, but encouraging smile.
    I took a deep breath. “My name is Maddie. Almost two weeks ago I was sexually assaulted at a nightclub.”
    Sarah wrote something in her notebook and looked at me. “Did he rape you?”
    I bowed my head in acknowledgement, before looking back up. “Yeah, in the alley.”
    “Have they caught your rapist?”
    I shook my head. “Not yet, but they tell me not to give up.”
    Sarah nodded again. “Most rapists will strike more than once, but hopefully they will catch him before it happens.”
    I glanced down at my lap, playing with my thumbs and avoiding eye contact with anyone.
    “Maddie, do you feel responsible for your own attack?”
    “Yes,” I whispered hoarsely. “I had too much to drink and my attempts to fight back were pathetic.”
    “Maddie. ‘No’ is ‘no’ no matter how quietly you said it. If you even said ‘no’ once, you fought back more than enough.”
    “It’s not just that. I was so far gone that even though I said ‘no’, I… I mean, my body…”
    “You had an orgasm.” It wasn’t a question, but a statement.
    I nodded, the shame made my face feel hot. Bridget tugged on my hand and I looked at her.
    “Maddie, my husband repulses me during sex, and I still have an orgasm most of the time. Even when I try hard not to, I do. It can’t be helped.”
    “Bridget’s right, Maddie,” Sarah said, nodding in agreement. “Our bodies respond to sex because biologically we are programmed for it. But that doesn’t mean anything, and it’s certainly nothing to be ashamed of. It happens more often than you would think.”
    Sarah smiled at me. “Thank you for sharing, Maddie.”
    She moved on to the lady next to me, who had been raped almost ten years ago and had a 9-year-old child from the rape. It was obvious that she loved her child dearly, but she still struggled with the constant reminder. I leaned back in my chair as I listened to the rest of the ladies speak, grateful that my turn was over.
    An hour later the group was dismissed and everyone began to clear out. I stood to leave and I heard Sarah say my name from the front.
    “Yeah?”
    She walked up to me and put a hand on my shoulder. “Do you have a good support system?”
    “I do. I really do.” I thought of how great everyone had been so far.
    “Good. That’s the most important thing. I hope you come back again, but if you ever decide you want to try something a little less overwhelming you can call me.” She handed me her card and I let out a chuckle when I saw it. Sarah just looked at me, a curious expression on