Epilogue

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A cold breeze rustling my cardigan brought me back to reality.

I set the last chair in front of me, closing the circle, before shooting a glance toward the open doors across the room.

A few girls, not much older than fifteen or sixteen, wandered in with their eyes trained on the ground.

I felt a strong tug at my heart at their appearance, feeling as if I was looking at a reflection of myself four years ago. Both stood with a slight hunch, as if they were too exhausted to stand up straight. The shorter girl wore a large men's hoodie and baggy sweatpants, lips so chapped that they had started to bleed a little. Her brown eyes were curtained by her messy blonde hair, as if she didn't want anyone to look into them. Her friend was a little more open, a light hesitation in each step as she ran a hand through her dark hair, lips pursed as her eyes scanned her surroundings.

"Welcome, ladies." I greeted softly, not wanting to overwhelm them, "Please find a seat, we're about to get started."

They nodded in unison, falling into the seats as far away from mine as possible. I couldn't blame them. I had been the same way the first time I attended a meeting.

I waited another five minutes before shutting the large double doors, both happy and saddened to see how big the turnout tonight was. It was the last day of the first week of school. Bianca and I had put signs up all around campus in hopes to become a safe haven to those in need.

Clearing my throat, I fell into my own seat with a small smile. "Some of you may know me, but it appears we have a lot of newcomers tonight."

I shifted in my seat and looked toward the wall straight ahead to keep myself distracted as I spoke. It'd been almost five years since my assault and it was still hard saying it out loud, even after doing it for two years.

"My name is Avery Spencer, and I'm a survivor of four years. I'm majoring in Child Psychology here at the University and created this support group a little over a year ago. This group started as a small club for assault survivors to come and speak of their experiences. It started with myself and four others, all of which were in the midst of trying to get over the assault that changed us. Within six months, this group has continued to grow and many have moved on, which is a great feat in itself. We understand that there are times of relapse, that there are times you want to give up, to not be in this world anymore and feel as if everyone will look at you in a different way if you speak out. But this is a safe place, a safe haven of sorts. What you say won't leave this room, and as long as you are comfortable, you don't have to tell anyone here. It took me months after my assault to tell my brother,  fiancé, and best friend, let alone let them know I was attending support groups. I understand more than anyone. I genuinely hope you all can find a family here, as we will always welcome you with open arms."

My speech was followed by a deep breath and a thumbs up from Bianca as she took her seat opposite of me and started to spark up conversation. My eyes wandered off my friend and to the little blonde girl who'd walked in. She met my eyes for a fraction of a second before averting her eyes and bowing her head.

**

Bianca decided she wanted to be the one to close everything up so I could get home at a decent time. She ignored my protests and waved me out the door as soon as the meeting ended. I stopped in the hall to dig through my purse to find my eyes, surprised when I peered up and met glistening dark brown eyes.

It was the blonde girl from the meeting, her hands trembling at her side. She shifted on her feet, throwing a quick look at her friend on her phone over her shoulder, before turning back to me and trying to offer a weak smile.

The Sound of Silence (Previously I Know What You Did Last Summer)Where stories live. Discover now