Epilogue

Authors Message: I wanted to give you all a more pleasant ending. I hope that this makes you feel more vindicated. Love you all. Thanks for reading and supporting. Please Review. - Katy

~0~

Only running really helped.

When Sara ran, she felt as if she were truly escaping the horrors that had occurred almost three months ago. Speaking to a psychiatrist didn't help. She could talk about what had happened until she was blue in the face, but that would never really destroy the memories. Most mornings she would wake up in a cold sweat, wondering where she really was.

She had quit her job at the lab. When you had been the victim of such an atrocious and raw violation, you couldn't separate yourself anymore; it became your life. Everyone was sorry to see her go, but they did not object. Sara didn't know if their loss for words was out of awkwardness or understanding.

So now she ran.

Every morning she would lace up her shoes, tie her hair back, and grab her IPod. At first, she only ran around the block. Then she started to make her routes longer. Soon she started to run the track at a local school.

Gil let her run.

When he left Las Vegas to return to France, Sara came with him. His mind told him it was because she loved him, but his heart felt that she trying to heal and needed an escape. He didn't press any issues about it.

They slept in the same bed together, but they hadn't attempted to make love. She had scars on her knees that she didn't like for him to see. Whenever she dressed for bed, she would always wear long, baggy sweatpants in an attempt to hide her white, scarred knees from him.

He tried to tell her he still found her beautiful.

On her runs, if she ran buy a market, she would stop in to buy a bottle of milk or a container of eggs. The employees all knew her by name and would always greet her. Her French wasn't as good as she wanted it to be, but she knew enough not to get lost and hold a conversation.

"Merci beaucoup," she would say as she left the store.

If she had something as delicate as eggs, then she walked home. If she had something lighter, then she always ran. She ran until she developed a stitch in her side and a cramp in her leg. She ran until her butt became firm and her breasts shrank in size.

And then one day she seemed to look up.

It happened one day when she had just returned home from a run. It had been raining and her clothes seemed to be soaked through to her bones. Rain ran down her nose and dripped off the tip, landing on the carpet and making a light tapping noise.

Gil and Sara lived in a three bedroom home that could have been compared to an American row house. It was furnished, not according to their taste, and welcoming. When they had first been married, they lived in a small flat in Paris. This too had been furnished, but unlike that home, this one had large kitchen.

In the front entrance of the house, there hung a full length mirror. Gil usually used it to check his appearance before heading out with his bag, but today Sara used it to study herself. She looked at her makeup-free face and stared at the freckles that were dusted across her cheeks and forehead.

She peeled off her clothes and dumped them in a soaking heap on the floor. She trailed her eyes down her own body, but when she got to her knees she looked away. The scars on her knees had been caused by the screws that shredded her skin as she crawled through the air vent.

Then she forced herself to look.

She gazed down at those scarred, white knees and she remembered crawling for her life with Mustache breathing heavily behind her. She had been scared, panicked, and desperate to save her life. Hating those scars was, in a way, she was hating herself for surviving. And that wasn't the case at all.

She loved herself for surviving.

~0~

That night Sara cooked supper. Gil was a far better cook then her, but then again "cook" wasn't a proper word to describe the food that he was able to prepare. He was more of a chef, while she liked to think of herself of a McDonald's fry cook.

When he came home, he watched her carefully and smiled as he looked over what she was cooking. He had treated her delicately since her nightmare had ended. At first it made her mad, and then she appreciated it. Now, it was time for it to end and it was time for him to listen to what she had to say.

"I'm ready to talk," she said.

It was a simple sentence, but yet so powerful. She could tell from the look in his eyes that it had been what he was waiting on. He never did push her to talk about her ordeal and for that, she was more than thankful. After all, he had come for her and if he hadn't, then she would most certainly be dead.

"I'm ready to listen," he said, setting his bag down and pulling out one of the kitchen chairs.

She had recounted the events to the police. Even though it was documented in a report, Gil did not read it because Sara requested the he didn't. After all, she was his wife and not a case file. Something this traumatizing needed to be told to you by your lover; not read about. He knew that it was not his right to steal that away from her.

"I can't stop thinking about it," she finally said. "When I'm trying to sleep I see that room that all the girls slept in. We were all chained to beds."

She could tell that he was affected by her words, but he did not interrupt her. He didn't try to reach out for her. He knew her well and that wasn't what she wanted. She stood up to stir the noodles she had sitting on the stove, but continued to speak.

"The first time I was…," she looked down at her hands and then back at the pot. She new the word she needed to say, but for some reason it was stuck in her throat .

"Sara," Gil coaxed.

She gulped. "The first time… I was… raped," she felt herself say.

That one, five letter word did her in and she put her hands over her face. She thought she had been the strongest one, but now she felt as small as doll. As if on cue, Gil stood and coaxed her into his arms.

"Just say it," he said, kissing the top of her head. "You can shout it if you need to."

Now that she had said 'the word' she felt everything else start to rise to the top. She felt like a bottle of soda that had been shaken and now someone was about to twist the cap off. She took a deep breath and began.

"They all knew who I was," she said into his shirt. "They all knew and no one stopped to help. I was a toy for them. "

Gil did not need her to name names because he knew who had been indicted. He tried not to think about the men, many of who had shared a meal with him on more than one occasion, who had put their hands on his wife. Being violated by someone you had trusted, by many people you trusted, was enough to scar a person.

Sara pulled away from Gil and he let her go. He knew that if he tried to hold her to him, then she would shut down. She needed to feel that she talking on her own terms and conditions.

"What kind of person does things like that?" she asked.

Gil leaned against the counter. "Bad people," he said. "Fucked up people that have no respect for a person's worth."

Sara held her breath. Not only did they violate her body, they violated her spirit and her soul. The gave her diseases that took months for Sara to heal from. They made her feel dirty and unwanted by anyone.

Sara nodded and continued to stir the noodles. He knew he was losing her, but she had opened up finally. She never would be the same after what happen, but now she knew he was there to listen to her.

~0~

A few weeks had passed since Sara had opened up and she noticed that she felt lighter. She didn't feel like her old self, but she felt better. She still ran, but her routes were shrinking in mileage. One day, on a whim, she picked up a Yoga DVD at a department store.

At first she felt odd stretching her body and listening to the French speaking instructor hum, but soon it became soothing. She traded in her running shoes for a Yoga mat and looked forward to her workouts every day. She tried to visualize the pain and horror of her life leaving her body with each exhale of breath.

"Don't get stuck like that," Gil would joke to her one morning.

"Oh ha ha," Sara kidded back.

Gil took a seat on the couch with his mug of coffee and sipped. Sara could feel his eyes on her. She turned and glared at him jokingly.

"Am I in your way?" she asked.

Gil shook his head. "No, the view is nice," he replied with a smile.

Sara landed on her butt and let out a laugh. Not a passive giggle, but a laugh that came from deep inside of her. She looked back at Gil, who was smiling at her with his eyes.

"You always know just what to say," she said.

For the first time in a long time, Sara felt wanted. Not only did she feel wanted, but she also felt want of her own. She wanted to feel his loving hands on her body again. She needed him to whisper to her how much he loved her. In turn, it was also time for her to try and love.

Now she was feeling a deep longing in the pit of her stomach.

She leaned back on her yoga mat. "What time are you going to be home?" she asked, chewing on her bottom lip.

Gil took the hint and sipped his coffee nonchalantly. "I'm thinking about skipping town tonight," he joked. "My second wife is getting suspicious."

Sara took off one of her socks and threw it at him. "Shut up!" she laughed.

Gil dodged it as he stood. "I'm not going to take this abuse," he said. "I'm going to teach a college full of young adults who actually appreciate me."

She stood to follow him into the kitchen. He stopped at the sink to empty out his mug and he turned to her. She put her arms around him and smiled.

"I love you," she said. "You know that right?"

Gil pulled her flush against him. "I never doubted it," he said as kissed her. "I'll be back around five."

~0~

To Sara's surprise, she didn't have any fears in her mind. After Gil had left, she planned a romantic dinner and even took a taxi to a boutique for lingerie. She felt on top of the world, and for a moment she felt guilty about wanting to have sex. She felt she should be afraid or intimidated. She even felt a little dirty, but she pushed it aside. She was going to have enjoyable sex with her husband.

Before Gil entered the house, Sara slipped on the nightie she bought. It was a soft pink that complimented her dark hair. She had never been a big fan of the color, but Gil thought it looked nice on her.

For a moment, she let herself remember herself trying not to visualize Gil as she was being assaulted. She was glad she resisted because if she had tried to use him as an escape, and then she would have related his face to those experience. The man who was about to put his hands on her now loved her and respected her.

Unlike the men who used her.

She heard the door open downstairs and the sound of Gil setting his keys in the dish by the door. Her heart started to beat wildly. She didn't understand why because she had had sex with Gil countless times. They knew each other's bodies better than anything.

But she knew this was not one of those ordinary times.

This was her willingly giving herself to him

"Honey I'm home," Gil called.

"Come upstairs," she called back to him.

She didn't really know what to do next, so she just stood there in the middle of the bedroom. When he entered the room he stopped in his tracks and smiled at her. His eyes making her feel loved and attractive.

"Oh, you look fantastic," he said as he shut the door behind him.

Gil had been waiting for this moment for a long time, but he was unsure of what to do. Would she be alright if he simply walked over and took her in his arms? Sara seemed to feel his hesitation and she smiled at him.

"I'm okay," she said, walking over to him. "I want to."

When she reached him, Gil let his hands encircle her waist and he pulled her close against him. He could feel the warmth of her skin through his clothes and he willed himself to go slow. This was an important milestone for her, and he did not want to risk it by acting too greedy.

He pulled of his jacket and let it fall to the floor. For a brief moment, Sara flashbacked to horrible moments where men had folded their clothes neatly before they violated her. In a way, Gil had done the opposite. He had let his expensive clothes fall into heaps out of his excitement to please her.

Sara tugged at his shirt. "Come lie down with me," she breathed.

Following her lead, Gil walked over to the bed and lay down alongside his wife. He ran his fingertips lovingly down her arms. He had always loved the feel of her skin and the sight of the tiny, brown freckles that covered her body. Every part of her was beautiful.

"Make love to me?" she asked, pressing a kiss on his lips.

Dinner was forgotten.

~0~

The next morning, Sara awoke feeling relaxed. Nightmares didn't disturb her dreams and during the night she knew exactly where she was; in her husband's arms. She stretched, yawned, and rolled over to look over at Gil. It was Saturday and he wasn't needed at the university, but his side of the bed was empty.

As if on cue, Gil appeared holding a newspaper and two cups of coffee. He was wearing only his robe and Sara took this to mean that he truly wasn't ready to leave the bedroom. She used her elbow to prop her head up and she watched him as he shucked his robe and got back into be.

"Do you know how cute your butt is?" She asked as he pulled the blankets back up.

Gil nodded. "I pride myself on it," he joked. "Of all my dreams, a cute butt was the top of my list."

Sara laughed. "Wow," she said. "I have to say you did a very good job."

Gil chuckled and handed her a mug. She accepted it, but didn't take a drink. Instead to set it on the bedside table and turned to look at him lovingly.

"Did you sleep well?" he asked, setting his own mug down.

Sara nodded. "Better than I have in months," she said, placing the palm of her hand against his cheek.

Gil smiled at her, put his arms around her, and pulled her into him. His warm body was pressed up next too hers and Sara felt a surge of comfort and connection that she hadn't in a long time.

"Thank you for coming to find me," she said as tiny tears began to make their way down her cheeks.

Gil looked at her seriously. "Baby, you don't have to thank me for that," she said. "I'd die for you."

As cliché as it sounded; it was true and Sara knew it.

Her healing had begun.