Awaken

by Denese Shelton

  Sierra couldn’t bring herself to speak. The tears started to flow in earnest now.

  “Sierra, how did it make you feel when he did what he did?”

  Sierra let out a loud sniffle and in an angry voice bellowed, “It made me feel ugly, and dirty, and ashamed.”

  A crease of concern appeared in Dr. Cayden’s brow line. “Is that why you never told anybody? Because you were ashamed and afraid of what they would think of you?”

  Sierra nodded silently. “If I told anyone, they would see how dirty and ugly I am. They would think bad things about me.”

  “Do you think that your family and the people who love you would really think bad things about you if you shared the trauma of what happened to you?”

  Sierra nodded. “I think they think bad things about me now.”

  “What makes you think that?”

  Sierra shared how her brother teased her, and how her mom used to always critique her weight and her love life, and how her sister always wanted to know everything about her life and was always trying to give her advice.

  “Sierra, I can tell you that it sounds like normal family dynamics. Brothers tease you and sisters give advice. Moms critique and advise. That’s what families do—and usually these things are coming from a loving place.”

  Sierra just sat there.

  “I think you should tell your family what happened to you. You don’t necessarily have to go into details, but I think it would be a good idea for you to open up to them or at least to one person in your family whom you feel you can confide in. I have a feeling they’ll surprise you, in a good way. But again, you need to know that whatever the outcome is, you can handle it and you’ll be okay. Holding this inside hasn’t helped you. It will continue to eat you up inside if you continue to give it the power to do so.”

  Dr. Cayden’s words began to filter through the mire of negative thoughts packed in Sierra’s mind. Could it be true? Would telling her family about what had happened really help her?

  “Talking about the abuse tends to take away its power. This is not your shame—and yet it seems to me that it has hindered your relationship with your family and your relationships with the opposite sex, because you’re living a life of fear and restraint, hoping that no one will find out your secret. You’re fearful of what they might think.”

  Sierra listened closely to Dr. Cayden’s words.

  “Do you understand that what he did to you is his shame and not yours? Do you understand that it wasn’t your fault? You didn’t have the power there—he held it all. Do you understand that? By talking about the abuse and learning to get past it, you can take your power back.”

  Sierra nodded.

  “I’m sorry, Sierra,” Dr. Cayden said, her voice firm. “Can I hear you say you understand that what happened to you wasn’t your fault?”

  Sierra sat still.

  “I would like you to acknowledge with your own words that you know that what happened to you wasn’t your fault.”

  Sierra looked up then—not at the doctor but out the window. She thought about the first time she’d come to this office, and her thought that maybe someone could see her from the other building. She whispered, “It wasn’t my fault.”

  “Sierra, can you say it louder? I want you to be convinced that as a little girl, it was impossible for you to be culpable in your own sexual assault. I want you to know that continuing to take blame and to be ashamed allows this person to have power over you. You’re not a little girl anymore. You have power. You have a voice. Can you say to me that this wasn’t your fault?”

  Sierra thought about all that Dr. Cayden was saying. She thought about the years she’d wasted hiding her feelings and hiding what he did to her. She thought about the misery she felt, and how alone and scared she was.

  She thought about the dream where she was lost in the forest and couldn’t find her way out. She thought about how looking at all the stars and the darkness made her feel so solitary and abandoned. She’d tried to help herself by using the stars to find her way, but that hadn’t worked. It seemed to her that she only found her way in her dreams when others were around her. Just as she had in the last dream.

  She thought about her life. Had she created a life of loneliness by shutting out the people whom she knew in her heart cared about her?

  She knew—somewhere deep inside, she knew—that what he’d done to her wasn’t her fault. He’d made that little girl feel as though it was, but this adult Sierra knew better. She knew that it wasn’t.

  Well, if you know that, then just say it.

  With more confidence and a little louder, she said, “It was not my fault.”

  Dr. Cayden smiled and nodded. “And because you know it’s not your fault, you also know you have nothing to be ashamed of. Can you tell me that you’re not ashamed?”

  Sierra looked straight at her. “I’m not ashamed.”

  Dr. Cayden smiled again. “And since you have nothing to be ashamed of, you also have nothing to be afraid of, do you?”

  Sierra actually smiled at that. “No, I guess I don’t.”

  Dr. Cayden put her pad down and looked at her. “Okay then?”

  With tears in her eyes, Sierra smiled and nodded.

  “Okay then. Now, Sierra, I’m not saying that all of your problems will be solved, but I think you’ve taken a very big step. This is really good. This has been a very productive session.”

  Sierra agreed. She was exhausted, and her face was wet with tears. She was crying, really crying, in front of someone, and she’d told someone what happened, and yet the world hadn’t stopped. She was still alive. Sierra smiled faintly as she realized that maybe, just maybe, for the first time since she was a little girl, she really wasn’t ashamed.

  Chapter 29

  Sierra arrived home after the session feeling emotionally drained. She could barely remember the drive home. Her mind and body were on autopilot: one minute she was in the elevator going down to the street from Dr. Cayden’s office, and the next minute she was parking her car in the condo parking lot.

  She didn’t even bother turning on the lights when she walked in her front door. She let the sunlight coming in through the windows lead her to her bedroom, where she kicked off her shoes and curled into a tight ball on the bed, hugging her pillow.

  This feels good, she thought. She let a big, long yawn escape from her mouth and held the pillow tighter. Then she let her muscles relax and closed her eyes.

  She opened her eyes seconds later and looked around her. She was in a small church that was packed to capacity. All around her, there was music. Everyone was singing. Hands were clapping. A choir stood behind the small pulpit, but they had on no robes. The voices were so powerful, they made the floor underneath her feet shake. She looked to her right; there was Mary, clapping and singing with all of her might. She looked to her left and there was John, looking just how he had when she’d last been with him in the forest.

  The place was electric with excitement. Used to the dreams by now, Sierra acclimated herself to the current situation quickly. The last time she saw John, he’d spoken about a meeting at a church—and about organizing to start a campaign for getting people registered to vote. Several weeks had passed since she had that dream, and she’d thought they were over. Yet here she was, in a church, wearing a yellow dress with a white flowered print, the gold locket John gave her around her neck, singing and clapping along with everyone else.

  She felt someone tug on her hand. It was John, motioning for her to have a seat. Sierra realized that the singing had stopped and everyone else was already seated. Her face grew hot; she sat down quickly and ducked her head.

  Mary gave her leg a pat. “Are you all right?”

  Sierra nodded reassuringly.

  A man Sierra assumed was the pastor approached the pulpit. “I know that we’re all excited to get started organizing and getting everyone registered. Brother John will now come up and give us direction as to how we will go about this thing.
Brother John . . .”

  John gave Sierra a quick peck on the cheek before maneuvering his way out of the overcrowded pew to the front of the church. As he made his way to the front, the congregation encouraged him with clapping and pats on the back.

  “Thanks so much for coming tonight,” John began when the pastor surrendered the pulpit to him. “And for your enthusiasm. We are really going to need that enthusiasm. We have every indication that some people may not readily receive the information and opportunity we’re providing them with. They may be scared and unsure, and for very good reasons. We all know that what we’re attempting to do may cause a reaction the likes of which we haven’t seen before. But I think it’s vital to our continued existence that we let the people of this state and the world know we won’t be bullied and mistreated any longer. Not without a fight.”

  As John began to pull flyers out of his satchel, a woman stood up and said, “I know everyone is excited, but I want to emphasize how dangerous this is. This young man is not from around here, and he may not understand how mean and ugly this thing can get. Things have been okay for a while with us and them—and they can stay that way, as long as we don’t rock the boat. Doing something like this is going to stir up resentment and anger, and I have a family to worry about.”

  Another woman stood up. “We all have families to worry about,” she said. “But I’m looking toward my kids’ futures. I don’t want them to live in a world where they’re not allowed to have a say in the laws being made that affect them. Resentment and anger are already here. It’s already stirred up. But I’m tired of being afraid to ask for what’s fair, and I want to teach my children a different type of lesson.”

  Amens and cheers arose, and both ladies sat down.

  “No one is making anyone participate,” John said. “This is simply an informational meeting. If you’re interested, the details are on these flyers. And because we know how dangerous this is, we want everyone to think carefully about participating. I know I’m not from around here, but I’ve been here for a while. I know how things are and I know what I’m asking of all of you. Remember that I’m taking the risk with you. Change can’t come unless acts of bravery facilitate it.”

  The pastor dismissed the service, and the congregation divided into two groups: people lining up to go to the front, and people gathering their things and heading toward the door. Mary grabbed Sierra’s hand and started leading her toward the front—but before they could take a second step, a loud crash shook the room and smoke filled the air.

  Panicked cries arose as the loud crashing sounds repeated themselves. Sierra coughed and hit the floor with Mary. Somehow John made it to their side right away and put his body over theirs, protecting them from the unknown danger. And then Sierra saw them: bottles strewn on the floor with fiery rags hanging out of them.

  The screams were so loud that they pierced Sierra’s ears. She could hear the pastor in the background, calling for everyone to stay calm and head for the door.

  John grabbed Sierra’s and Mary’s hands and pulled them into the growing crowd that was exiting the church. The smoke filled Sierra’s lungs, and she found that she could barely breathe. Her eyes were stinging, and she began to feel real terror. But then she got closer to the door and felt the cool night air hit her skin and she calmed down, reassured that soon she would be able to breathe again.

  It was then that she noticed that the screams weren’t only coming from the people behind and beside her—they were coming from in front of her as well, from people who had already escaped the church. As she pressed outside and her eyes cleared a bit, she could see what she couldn’t before: A burning cross was there to greet the congregation as they crowded out of the church. Men dressed in white robes waited outside the church in several pickup trucks. The men jumped out of their trucks and began smashing car windows, yelling and taunting the crowd while the fires burned.

  Sierra didn’t know what to do. She was frozen; all she could do was stare at the horrifying scene taking place in front of her. And then she didn’t have to wonder what to do, as the decision was taken from her. John was pulling her in the direction of the back of the church. Mary, on her other side, also seemed to know where they were going.

  They stopped at a shed, and John immediately opened it and began to look around.

  “What are you looking for?” Sierra asked.

  “There’s a water pump over there.”

  She followed the direction his finger pointed in and saw the pump a few feet away, surrounded by grass.

  “I’m looking for anything we can fill with water so we can stop this fire.”

  Before he had even finished his sentence, Sierra and Mary were digging through the shed, helping him look.

  Seconds into their search, they heard a commotion just outside, and they all paused. Then the door of the shed flew open, and the pastor and several other men from the congregation burst in.

  The pastor seemed to already know what they were looking for, and he pointed them in the right direction. Everyone grabbed buckets and anything else they could find that would hold water, then rushed out of the shed toward the pump.

  Sierra could smell the acrid stench from the fire in the air. It singed her nose hairs. Her eyes pooled with tears as the dark smoke from the church slowly surrounded their group, tightening its grip. Everyone was working as fast as they could: the men were pumping the water as Sierra and Mary held the containers, and then running toward the church to put the fire out. By now, others, both men and women, had made their way to the pump and were helping their efforts.

  The pastor informed everyone that others had gone for help, but Sierra knew they had to help themselves—and everyone else seemed to understand that as well.

  At one point, as Sierra carried a pail of water over to the church—which was now filled with dark smoke—she moved around to the front of the church. The trucks and the men in the white robes were gone; all that was left to see now was the collateral damage.

  The face of the church, although now mostly free of fire, was wreathed in smoke. The entire congregation was working to finish putting the flames out, but although they were dying down, Sierra knew the church was gutted. A deep sadness filled her chest, and she knew that her tears weren’t only due to the sting of the smoke in the air.

  Sierra handed her container to a man who was receiving the pails at the front of the church and methodically dousing the now-small flames. As she turned away, out of the corner of her eye she noticed something bright still shining in the darkness the smoke had created. It was the burning cross.

  Sierra walked over to it, careful not to get too close. Up until this point, most of the crowd’s efforts had gone to putting out the fire in the church, but now that the situation was under control, a few were going back and forth to put out the fire burning the cross.

  Sierra stood for a moment with her hand over eyes and mouth and took it all in—the screams, the sadness, and the anger of those around her, as well as her own grief and anger.

  Looking at that cross and the burning church, she understood the bravery and commitment of the people surrounding her in a whole new way. She understood that she was a part of it. She understood that the kind of courage she was now seeing was her legacy. And then she was no longer staring but running back behind the church for more water to help.

  She saw Mary at the pump and they made eye contact. An understanding glance passed between the two as they continued to work. And then the question of where John was fought through all the thoughts occupying Sierra’s head. As she carried another bucket of water to the cross, she searched for him worriedly, but even in her concern she moved as fast as she could, spurred on by her new realization and conviction. She reached the cross, lifted the pail, and released the water, eager to put out the ugliness the burning cross ignited. And after she did that, she felt good. She felt free.

  She was readying herself to go back for more water when someone whipped her around. Strong arms
held her close. She knew those arms.

  “Are you okay? I’ve been looking for you,” John exclaimed, relief evident in his voice.

  Sierra held him tight. “I’ve been looking for you, too.”

  John tightened his hold as if afraid she might disappear. “Don’t do that to me again. Don’t you know how much I love you?”

  Sierra pulled away a little, just enough to look into his eyes. She knew those eyes.

  The smoke from the now-extinguished cross began to fill the air around them. It was getting harder and harder for Sierra to see anything. She could still feel John’s hands around her, even if she couldn’t see him anymore, and she could hear his voice saying, “We belong together. I will never leave you. I love you . . .”

  Chapter 30

  Sierra woke up in her bed drenched in sweat and breathing heavily. She slowly allowed her body to relax—something that came much easier now than it had when she first started having these dreams. She looked down and realized that she was wearing the same clothes she’d worn to her visit with Dr. Cayden. And then it all came back to her: the anxiety and relief she’d felt during the appointment, and the total fatigue she’d felt afterward.

  She stretched her arms above her head and allowed herself a good yawn. Sunlight was beginning to stream into the room through the window. Spring finally looked as though it might actually stay for a while.

  She glanced over at the alarm clock and saw that it was seven in the morning. It had only been five or so when she got home on Friday, yet she had slept through the night and into the morning. She hoped she wasn’t regressing, and was happy to realize that she doubted that she really was. She chalked it up to exhaustion.

  Her sticky clothes continued to cling to her. She got out of bed and headed over to the bathroom, where she undressed and got in the shower. She let the hot water revive her senses as she thought about the dream she’d just woken from. Once again, she and the people in her visions, whom she now counted as friends, had found themselves in a dangerous situation—and once again, everyone had banded together and helped save one another. Everyone had been courageous.