True to his word, Tom covered every mirror in the apartment with sheets. I kept my promise and stopped wearing long sleeves when we were home. At first I would unknowingly cover myself with blankets or jackets, but as time progressed I began to stop noticing my scars. Adjusting to wearing shorts was just as awkward, but I was able to get past that too. Eventually we uncovered some of the smaller mirrors, but I still couldn't look at the full length ones. It was now the beginning of spring and Tom and I were walking through a park. I was wearing knee length denim cut- offs and a light blue cami. We were lying on a blanket in the grass watching the clouds blow past.

"Does that one look like an angry bulldog or is it just me?" I asked pointing at a cloud.

"It's just you," Tom said.

"Well, you're looking at it sideways," I defended.

"So?" he said, as he tickled my side causing me to squirm with giggles.

"Meanie," I said accusingly.

He just scoffed and rolled his eyes. We laid there for a while, both of us worlds away in our heads.

"It's been almost two years, hasn't it," Tom said solemnly.

"It'll be exactly two years in four days."

The anniversary of the day we were first abducted. None of us liked to admit it, but it was a truth we couldn't avoid.

"Have you read any of the old case files yet?"

"No."

"You should; makes it seem more like fiction than reality," he said as he put his hands under his head and closed his eyes. "Makes the memories seem more like bad dreams when you write them down."

"I know, talking about it with Tasha has helped a lot."

"You should ask her if you can borrow her tapes from your sessions. Listening to yourself tell about what happened makes it easier to give more details."

"I'm guessing that's what you did?"

"Yeah, I think I still have mine somewhere at home. I've listened to them a hundred times, but there's still information that I don't get."

"You were pretty out of it those first few days."

"Do you think you could fill in some of the blanks for me?"

"I guess I could try."

Honestly, talking about it once with Dr. Ozera was enough; I really didn't want to hear about what happened again. Especially what Tom went through personally, it would be too heart- wrenching.

"If you think you're ready to listen to them, that is. I don't want to push you into anything you don't think you're ready for."

"I didn't think I'd ever wear shorts again, but look at me now!"

He chuckled at my remark. Then he turned his body so he was facing me, looking at me seriously.

"Are you sure you're ready to listen to them? They get pretty emotional," he warned.

"As ready as I'll ever be."

When we got home we both sat in the office where the tapes and tape player were. Tom pulled one of a box of about three dozen.

"This is my first session with Tasha," he said as he put the tape in the player. "This was a couple of days after we were found."

Dr. Ozera: Hello Tom.

Tom: Hi.

He sounded very shaken up on the tape.

Dr. Ozera: You seem nervous; can you tell me why?

Tom: Because of what he did.

Dr. Ozera: Who?

Tom: I don't know! But he has her and nobody cares! Why are people wasting their time worrying about me when she's the one who needs help right now!

Dr. Ozera: Who does he have?

Tom: My girlfriend, Veronica. He has her and he's probably hurting her right now and no one's trying to find her!

Dr. Ozera: Why do you think He's hurting her?

Tom: Because he already has.

Dr. Ozera: How?

Tom: He hit her; over and over and over! It drove me crazy! Why did He have to do that? She never hurt anyone, she didn't deserve it.

Dr. Ozera: Is that the only way he hurt her?

Tom: No, He made her watch us get hit, too. She hates seeing people got hurt.

Dr. Ozera: What did she do when He hit you?

Tom: She cried, a lot. And screamed. She was so upset.

Dr. Ozera: Did he hurt her any other way?

Tom: Yes

Dr. Ozera: How?

Tom: *silent*

Dr. Ozera: Tom, I can't help you if you don't talk.

Tom: *mumbles*

Dr. Ozera: I can't understand you, please speak up.

Tom: *quietly, but angrily* He touched her.

Dr. Ozera: Where?

Tom: Where do you think? He touched her where no woman should be touched against their will! The bastard fucking touched her and - *starts crying softly*

Dr. Ozera: How do you know He did those things?

Tom: He made us watch. He made us get down on our knees and watch him rape her.

Dr. Ozera: Why did He do that?

Tom: Because she refused to let anyone else die.

Dr. Ozera: I don't understand.

Tom: She had to choose between someone being killed or letting him- *resumes crying*

Dr. Ozera: How did that make you feel?

Tom: *sniffle* Pissed, upset, disgusted, like a fucking idiot.

Dr. Ozera: Why do you say that?

Tom: I should've done something; I should've stopped him.

Dr. Ozera: Do you feel responsible for that happening?

Tom: Kind of.

Dr. Ozera: Why?

Tom: If she had picked me, He wouldn't have done that to her. She would be free right now.

Dr. Ozera: How do you think she would've felt if you had died?

Tom: Heartbroken

Dr. Ozera: Maybe she was trying to protect you?

Tom: I guess.

Dr. Ozera: You did very well today. I'll see you in a couple of days.

Tom popped the tape out of the player. Moisture was building in my eyes; he sounded so distressed there.

"That was the worst one out of all of them," he said reassuringly. "This one is from six months later."

He put another tape into the player and hit the play button.

Dr. Ozera: How are you today, Tom?

Tom: I'm fine.

Dr. Ozera: Have you been sleeping better?

Tom: I guess.

Dr. Ozera: You guess?

Tom: It comes fast, ends too soon. I don't feel any different in the morning.

Dr. Ozera: No different at all?

Tom: If anything I feel worse. I just feel like I dozen off, not actually slept.

Dr. Ozera: That does sometimes happen when a person first starts taken the sleeping pills I prescribed. That feeling should wear off as you get more rest.

Tom: If that's what you want to call it.

Dr. Ozera: Let's move on to what the police are doing. Have they found anything new?

Tom: A few hairs.

Dr. Ozera: From whom?

Tom: They don't know, but they think it's from the guys that took us.

Dr. Ozera: That's good news. Do they have any idea where they went?

Tom: *angrily* No.

Dr. Ozera: Do you have any idea where they might have gone?

Tom: No; if I did I would've told the police already.

Dr. Ozera: How does not knowing make you feel?

Tom: Helpless.

Dr. Ozera: What do you do to cope with that?

Tom: Sometimes it feels like I can't.

Dr. Ozera: What do you do then?

Tom: Think about ending it all.

Dr. Ozera: And why haven't you?

Tom: For Bill, he'd go crazy if I did.

Dr. Ozera: Is he the only reason?

Tom: I want to live to see those bastards get thrown in prison.

I turned off the tape player.

"Stop, just stop," I said, tears already starting to escape.

"Wait, there's just five more seconds I want you to hear," Tom said as he turned the player back on.

Dr. Ozera: And?

Tom: *pause* And I want to know where Veronica is. I want her back. Even if they already- *sighs* I just miss her so much.

He finally stopped the tape. He looked at me with chagrined eyes and pulled me close. I leaned my head against his chest, letting his shirt absorb my tears.

"I'm sorry if that was too much," he said softly.

I shook my head 'no'.

"It was the truth," I said weakly, "and it's about time I faced the truth."

"Which is?"

"That I have to face the past before I can move on."