Page 74 of Veil of the Past
“You did everything you could,” Katherine says firmly. “You were caught in a situation that was beyond your control, and you survived. That takes strength, Alessia. That takes resilience.”
Resilience. I let the word roll around in my mind for a moment, trying to grasp it, trying to feel it. But all I feel is the weight of the guilt, the heaviness of the loss. “I don’t feel strong,” I admit quietly. “I feel… broken. I feel like I’m… drowning.”
Katherine nods, her eyes soft. “I understand. And it’s okay to feel that way. It’s okay to feel like you’re not strong right now. But you are. You survived, Alessia. You’re here. You’re still fighting, even when it feels impossible. That’s strength.”
I look down at my hands, my fingers twisting together, my nails digging into my palms. “I don’t know how to move forward,” I whisper. “I don’t know how to… live with this. How to live without her.”
Katherine leans back in her chair, giving me space, but her eyes never leave mine. “It’s not about moving on,” she says softly. “It’s about learning to carry the grief with you. Learning to live with it, to make room for it in your heart. It’s not something that goes away, but it can become something that you grow around, something that makes you stronger.”
Her words sink in slowly like stones dropping into water, and I feel something shift inside me, something small, something fragile. I take a shaky breath, trying to absorb what she’s saying, trying to find some meaning in it.
“And the kidnapping,” Katherine prompts gently. “Can you tell me about that?”
My heart clenches, my chest tightening at the mention of it. I close my eyes, the images flashing in my mind—Helen’s cold eyes, the ropes digging into my wrists, the darkness pressing in from all sides. “It was… terrifying,” I whisper, my voice barely audible. “I thought… I thought we were going to die.”
Katherine nods, her expression empathetic. “You went through something incredibly traumatic, Alessia. It’s normal to feel scared, to feel anxious, to have panic attacks. Your mind is trying to protect you, to make sense of what happened.”
I nod, but the words don’t feel real. Nothing feels real. “I keep… I keep seeing her face,” I admit, my voice trembling. “Helen’s face, her smile… like she enjoyed it, like it was all a game to her. And I… I don’t understand. Why? Why us?”
Katherine leans forward slightly, her hands resting on her knees. “I don’t know why, Alessia,” she says softly. “Sometimes, there are no answers. Sometimes, things happen that we can’t explain, that we can’t make sense of. And that’s one of the hardest parts… accepting that there might not be a reason, that it might not be fair.”
I feel a tear slip down my cheek, and I brush it away, frustrated, angry. “It’s not fair,” I say, my voice sharp. “It’s not fair that she gets away with it, that we went through this. It’s not fair that… that I’m still here, and she…”
Katherine’s voice is soft, soothing. “No, it’s not fair,” she agrees. “And it’s okay to feel that way. It’s okay to feel angry, to feel sad, to feel lost. You don’t have to have it all figured out right now. You just have to take it one step at a time, one day at a time.”
I nod, my hands still shaking, my chest still tight. “I don’t know if I can do that,” I whisper. “I don’t know if I can… find a way through this.”
Katherine’s eyes are gentle and understanding. “You’re stronger than you think, Alessia,” she says softly. “You’ve already survived so much. And you’re not alone. You have people who love you, and who want to help you. And you have yourself… you have your strength, your resilience. You have everything you need to heal, to grow, to find your way back to yourself.”
I take a deep breath, letting her words settle over me, feeling the weight of them, the truth in them. I know it won’t be easy. I know there will be days when it feels impossible. But maybe… maybe there’s a way through this. Maybe there’s a way to carry this grief, this pain, without letting it destroy me.
Maybe there’s a way to be okay again, to find some light in the darkness.
And for the first time in a long time, I feel a flicker of hope, a small, fragile spark that maybe, I can do this. I can find a way to keep going. To keep fighting. To keep living.
* * *
I siton the edge of the couch, my legs tucked under me, staring at the door that Katherine just walked out of. The room feels colder now, emptier, like the silence has grown louder somehow. I feel… hollow, like I’ve been scraped out from the inside, like all the words I just spoke to her took something out of me that I can’t get back. I’m not sure if I feel lighter or just more exposed. My fingers twist the edge of my shirt, fidgeting, trying to find something solid to hold onto.
The door opens slowly, and I look up to see Romiro standing there, leaning against the frame, his arms crossed over his chest. His eyes find mine, searching, and I see the worry etched into every line of his face. He looks so tired, so worn down, and I wonder if that’s my fault, if I’ve done this to him. I feel a pang of guilt twist in my stomach, but I push it down. I’ve been feeling guilty about everything lately, and I can’t take on anymore.
“How did it go?” he asks, his voice soft, like he’s afraid to startle me.
I shrug, my gaze dropping back to my lap. “I… I don’t know,” I admit, my voice small. “I talked. She listened. It was… hard.”
He nods, moving into the room, sitting down beside me on the couch. His leg brushes against mine, a gentle pressure that grounds me, makes me feel less like I’m drifting away. “I’m proud of you, Red,” he says quietly. “It’s not easy to talk about… what happened. But you did it.”
I glance up at him, his words sinking in slowly, like stones dropping into still water. “I don’t know if it helped,” I whisper. “I still feel… I still feel so lost.”
He reaches out, his hand warm as it covers mine, his thumb brushing gently over my knuckles. “It’s okay to feel lost,” he murmurs. “It’s okay to not have all the answers right now. But you’re trying. That’s what matters.”
I nod, swallowing hard, feeling the tears prick at the corners of my eyes again. I’ve cried so much these past few days, and I’m tired of it, tired of feeling weak, of feeling like I’m falling apart. I look away, blinking rapidly, trying to hold myself together.
Romiro squeezes my hand a little tighter. “Come on,” he says, his voice lighter now, like he’s trying to pull me out of my own head. “Let’s get out of here for a bit. I’ll take you back to the apartment, and I’ll make you something to eat. Your favorite—scrambled eggs, just the way you like them.”
I feel a small smile tug at the corners of my lips, despite everything. He knows me too well. “Scrambled eggs?” I echo, my voice a little stronger now. “You’re going to cook for me?”
He grins, a playful glint in his eyes. “I’ve been practicing,” he teases. “Come on, let me show you what I’ve learned.”
