Shadows of Recovery (Everhart Family #3)

Chapter 35

Thirty-Five

T wo weeks into her cognitive behavioral therapy, Sophie had made significant strides. Today marked the beginning of her exposure therapy, a crucial step in her recovery process. Sweat dripped down her back as she prepared for the session led by Dr. Chris Skylar. Tristan and James were there to support her.

The therapy room was designed to be a safe and welcoming space. Comfortable chairs were arranged in a circle, and a table in the corner held a selection of soothing items: a stress ball, a soft blanket, and a few scented candles.

She sat in one of the chairs, her hands trembling slightly. Tristan reached over and gently squeezed her hand, offering her a small, encouraging smile. James stood nearby, his posture relaxed but alert, ready to assist if needed. Chris sat across from Sophie, his demeanor calm and professional.

"Good morning, Sophie," Chris began, his voice soothing. "Today, we're going to start exposure therapy. Remember, the goal is to face the memories and feelings associated with your trauma in a safe and controlled environment. You're in control here, and we won't push you beyond your limits."

Sophie nodded, her jaw set with determination. "I'm ready," she said, though her voice wavered slightly.

Chris nodded approvingly. "We'll start with a brief relaxation exercise to help you feel grounded. Close your eyes and take a few deep breaths. Focus on the sensation of the air filling your lungs and then slowly exhale."

Sophie closed her eyes, following Chris's instructions. She felt Tristan's hand in hers, a grounding touch that helped her focus. The room fell into a gentle silence, broken only by the sound of their synchronized breathing.

After a few moments, Chris spoke again, "Good, Sophie. Now, let's begin by discussing a neutral part of your experience. Can you tell me about the hospital environment before anything traumatic happened?"

Sophie opened her eyes, her gaze distant as she recalled the details. "The walls were white, decorated with Valentine decorations, and there was a constant buzz from the machines. The nurses and doctors were laughing. We were eating cupcakes and drinking coffee at the beginning of the shift. And Tristan’s flowers.”

Chris nodded. "That's a good start. Let's focus on a specific moment. Can you describe the sounds you heard when you were in the corridor?"

Sophie hesitated but then continued, "There was beeping from a heart monitor, the occasional hiss from the oxygen tank, and footsteps in the hallway. There was also chatter from patients and their families."

"Excellent," Chris said, his tone encouraging. "Now, let's move a bit closer to the difficult memories. Remember, you're in control. If it becomes too much, we'll pause and return to the relaxation exercises."

Sophie took a deep breath, bracing herself. "Okay."

Chris leaned forward slightly, his expression gentle but focused. "Can you tell us about the first moment you felt fear or discomfort in the hospital?"

Sophie's grip on Tristan's hand tightened. "I heard a motorcycle and smelled gasoline. Then a man walked into my office. All in black leather. A gun. A dementor from Harry Potter . He... he smiled at me, but it wasn't a kind smile. It felt... wrong."

Tristan's jaw clenched, but he remained silent, letting Sophie continue at her own pace.

Chris's voice remained calm. "You're doing great, Sophie. What did you feel in that moment?"

"I felt a cold chill run down my back," Sophie said, her voice trembling. "I knew something was wrong, but I couldn't move. I felt paralyzed."

Chris nodded. "Thank you for sharing that, Sophie. Let's pause here and return to our breathing exercise. Focus on your breath, in and out, and let yourself feel the support around you."

Sophie closed her eyes again, focusing on her breath. The tension in her body gradually eased with Tristan's steady presence beside her.

After a few moments, Chris spoke again, "You're doing very well, Sophie. Let's try another step. Can you describe the first words the man said to you?"

"‘Hello, Sophie. Miss me?’ That’s when I realized it was Damon Whitlock. It was like he enjoyed seeing me afraid."

Chris nodded, his expression empathetic. "That must have been very frightening. You're incredibly brave for facing this. Let's pause and use one of the grounding techniques we discussed. Can you name five things you can see in the room right now?"

Sophie looked around, her voice gaining strength as she named the objects. "The stress ball, the blanket, the candles, Tristan, and you, Chris."

"Good," Chris said, smiling softly. "Now, four things you can touch?"

"The chair, Tristan's hand, my clothes, and my hair."

"Excellent. Three things you can hear?"

"The hum of the air conditioner, Tristan's breathing, and your voice."

"Two things you can smell?"

"The candles and... Tristan's cologne."

"And one thing you can taste?"

"My own saliva."

"Perfect, Sophie. You're doing great." Chris’s voice was filled with genuine praise. "Let's take a short break. You've made incredible progress today."

Sophie nodded, tears streaming down her cheeks. She felt both exhausted and relieved, having confronted some of her darkest memories. Tristan pulled her into a gentle embrace, whispering soothing words in her ear, "You did amazing, Sophie. I'm so proud of you.”

James, who had been quietly observing, stepped forward. "You've shown so much strength today, Sophie.”

She looked up and gave them a soft smile. Despite the fear and pain, she had a team of people who cared about her and were committed to helping her heal.

As the session came to an end, Chris said, "We'll continue to take this step by step, Sophie. Remember, you're in control.”

Sophie nodded.

* * *

Exhausted from confronting the memory, Sophie drifted into a much-needed nap. Tristan, feeling a mixture of pride and worry, made his way to his office. He had a full schedule, including meeting with a new physician he recently hired for the Blackwell Institute.

A knock on the open door drew his attention. "Come in," he said, offering a welcoming smile.

Dana Riddell stepped inside. She was a short, curvy blonde woman with a confident air about her. She took the seat in front of his desk, returning his smile with a professional one of her own.

"Thank you for seeing me, Tristan," Dana began. "I wanted to go over the results of the exams on the patients who needed medical care, including those on anti-addiction medications. But we also have patients with heart disease, GI issues, kidney issues..."

Tristan nodded, appreciating her thoroughness. "Of course, Dana. Please, go on."

She continued, "I did a chart review, and I came across Sophie Everhart’s file. I noticed she wasn't on the approved list for my review, but her case stood out. I wanted to recheck her incision and the healing from her self-mutilation. Also, her gynecological injuries need monitoring. How do you want to handle this? Should I defer to Dr. Harris, Dr. James Blackwell, or would you prefer I take care of it?"

Tristan appreciated her concern and dedication. "Sophie's case is delicate. I'll need to check with Chris Skylar and Sophie herself. Ultimately, I'd like Sophie to choose whom she feels most comfortable with. Your initiative is commendable, Dana."

She nodded, understanding the sensitivity of the situation. "Thank you, Tristan. I'll be ready to assist in any way."

After Dana left, Tristan paged Chris Skylar and explained the situation. Chris agreed that allowing Sophie to choose was the best approach.

When she awakened, Tristan sat beside her, carefully considering his words. "Sophie," he began, his voice soft, "Dr. Riddell, our new physician, reviewed your chart. She wants to check on your incision, the scarring from the cuts, and your gynecological injuries. I want you to have a say in who handles this. Would you prefer Dr. Harris, James, or Dr. Riddell?"

Sophie turned to him, pressing her head against his forehead. She trembled slightly, but Tristan felt her resolve. "I... I think Dr. Riddell is fine," she whispered. "But can Chris be there with me?"

Tristan's heart swelled with pride. "Of course, Sophie. I'm so proud of you."

* * *

That evening, Tristan decided to create a moment of normalcy and joy for Sophie. And, if he was honest, himself. He took her to the patient kitchen, which he had stocked with ingredients to make chicken Florentine.

"Let's cook together," he suggested, his voice warm with encouragement.

Sophie looked at him. "Okay, that sounds nice."

They donned aprons and got to work, Tristan guiding Sophie through each step. As they cooked, the kitchen filled with the rich, comforting aroma of sautéed chicken, spinach, and a creamy sauce. Sophie’s face slowly lit up with smiles as she immersed herself in the activity, her anxiety easing.

"This is actually fun," she said, her voice lighter than it had been in weeks.

Tristan smiled, his heart soaring at the sight of her enjoying herself. "I'm glad you think so. I wanted you to experience something fun and normal. Once you're through with the exposure therapy sessions, I'm hoping you can come back home." He leaned in and placed a gentle kiss to her lips.

Sophie paused, her eyes meeting his. "I'd like that," she whispered, a hint of hope in her voice.

They finished cooking and sat down to enjoy their meal, the simple act of sharing food bringing a sense of comfort and connection. For a moment, the shadows of Sophie's trauma seemed to recede.

As they ate, Tristan's thoughts wandered to the future. Tonight was a small victory, but it was a significant one.

* * *

Over the next week, Sophie's exposure therapy continued. Each session delved deeper into the traumatic events she had endured, testing her resilience and courage.

The sessions took a toll on Sophie, leaving her physically and emotionally exhausted. But with each painful memory she confronted, she felt a small piece of her strength returning. The darkness that had once consumed her began to lift, replaced by a flicker of hope.

"You're the bravest person I know," Tristan told her one evening. His arms wrapped around her.

Monday’s session began with Chris saying, "Today, we'll talk about the day Dr. Parmor was killed. Can you describe what you remember?"

“He was so kind to me," she whispered, tears streaming down her face. "He didn't deserve to die like that. Murdered."

Chris nodded, his expression compassionate but focused. "You're doing great, Sophie. It's

important to let these memories out. You're safe here."

Sophie closed her eyes, a shudder passing through her. "I remember the sound of the gunshot. Dr. Parmor fell to the ground. There was chaos. I saw the blood... the brain matter, the smell; it was everywhere."

Chris nodded, his voice steady. "What were you feeling at that moment?"

"I was terrified," Sophie replied, her voice trembling. "I couldn't move. I was frozen."

Chris guided her through grounding techniques, helping her breathe deeply and focus on the present moment. After the session, Sophie was drained but managed to muster a small smile for Tristan, who reassured her with a tender touch and a chaste kiss.

On Tuesday, the focus was on Gene’s murder. Chris asked Sophie to recount the events, her voice cracking as she spoke.

"Gene was trying to be friendly,” she said, her hands shaking. “I smiled at him. But Damon... he just... he killed him without a second thought. I saw Gene... He was lying on the floor. There was blood. I could hear his final breath before it stopped.” Tears streamed down her face.

As Sophie grew stronger, Tristan and James watched the session through a two-way mirror. Chris worked with her to process these intense emotions, encouraging her to share her fears and memories. He used techniques to help her separate the past from the present, reminding her she was safe now.

Wednesday was particularly difficult. Sophie described the traumatic event with painstaking detail, her hands trembling as she spoke. It took all of Chris’s skill and patience to navigate this dark territory.

As they moved on to the memory of Damon dragging her by the hair and throwing her against the wall by the surgical supply room, Sophie’s breath grew ragged. "I thought I was going to die," she confessed, her body trembling. "He beat me so badly... I could barely move. And then... he... he..." she choked on her words, unable to continue.

Chris leaned forward, his voice steady and calming. "You're safe now, Sophie. Take your time."

She took a shuddering breath, forcing herself to continue. "He raped me. Over and over again. The pain... it was unbearable. And he... he sodomized me with such cruelty. I felt like I was being torn apart. I begged him to stop.”

Tristan's eyes filled with tears, his heart breaking for Sophie. James struggled to maintain his composure, his usually stoic demeanor cracking.

Chris's voice remained gentle but firm. "It's important to face these memories, no matter how painful. By doing so, you're taking away their power over you."

Sophie nodded, tears streaming down her face. "It wasn't just once. It happened... multiple times. Every time I thought it couldn't get worse, it did."

Chris guided her through grounding, helping her stay anchored in the present. "You're safe now, Sophie. Damon can't hurt you anymore."

Thursday's session restructured her harrowing memory. Her body tensed as she described the brutality she endured during the vicious beating. The room felt heavy with the weight of her words.

"He beat me... It was relentless," Sophie said, her voice barely a whisper. "I couldn't escape the pain. It felt like it would never end."

Friday's session delved into the most excruciating part of Sophie’s trauma—the repeated rapes and sodomizations. She struggled to speak about these experiences, her voice filled with deep-seated pain.

" I know this is incredibly difficult,” Chris said. “You don't have to go into detail if you're not ready. We can take the events in pieces. Take their power away.”

Sophie looked at him, her eyes filled with a mixture of despair and resolve. "He... he was cruel. He kept telling me I belonged to him. He made me feel worthless."

Chris's voice was steady but filled with compassion. "You're not worthless, Sophie. You're incredibly strong for facing this. And you belong only to yourself. You don’t belong to him or anyone."

As the week came to a close, Sophie was emotionally exhausted. Each session had brought her closer to facing the full extent of her trauma, but it had also been a test of her resilience. Chris, Tristan, and James had worked tirelessly to support her through this challenging time.

Tristan sat with Sophie after the last session of the week, his heart aching for her. "You've made so much progress."

She looked up at him, her eyes weary but resolute. "Thank you.”

Tristan took her hand in his, his touch gentle. "You’re doing amazing."

She had faced the darkest corners of her trauma and emerged stronger. But the journey was far from over. There were still wounds to heal, both seen and unseen.

On the final day of the week, Sophie sat with Chris, Tristan, and James, reflecting on her progress. "I never thought I could face those memories," she admitted. “Thank you."

Chris smiled, his eyes warm with pride. "You've done incredible work, Sophie. Remember, healing is a journey, not a destination. But you've taken huge steps forward." He left her alone with Tristan and James.

Tristan’s voice was choked with emotion. "I'm so proud of you, sweetheart. You’re stronger than you know."

James nodded in agreement. "Keep fighting, Sophie. You've got an army behind you."

As he did every time since she had awakened from her coma, Tristan gently asked, "May I hug you, sweetheart?"

Tears welled up in her eyes as she looked at him, vulnerability shining through. She nodded, then stood and curled up in his arms. Her head rested against his heart, and she wept, sobs racking her slender frame.

Tristan held her tightly, whispering words of encouragement and love. "It's okay to cry. Let it all out. I’ve got you. I love you."

Her tears flowed freely, a release of the pent-up pain and trauma she had confronted in her therapy sessions. Tristan's embrace was firm.

After what felt like an eternity, her sobs subsided, and she looked up at him, her eyes red and swollen. "Tristan, please," she begged, her voice a hoarse whisper. "Let me come home. I can't stay here any longer. I need to be home with you."

"I'll talk to Chris," he said gently. "We'll see what we can do to make it happen."

* * *

James and Tristan sat on the porch of Tristan and Sophie’s home, staring out at the sunset, the colors of the sky blending into a soft, fading orange. Tristan held a glass of whiskey in his hand, but it barely moved as he sat lost in thought.

Tristan sighed deeply, his eyes still fixed on the horizon. “I just… I don’t know if Sophie’s ever going to heal. Will we ever have a normal life? Will we make love again? Will we get married, have children, live the life we dreamed of?” His voice trembled as he spoke, the words coming out with a mix of sadness and desperation. “I’m scared, James. I don’t know how much more either of us can take.”

James placed a comforting hand on his brother’s shoulder, trying to steady him. “You’re both going through hell right now. But Sophie’s strong, and so are you. Healing takes time, and so does finding your way back to each other.”

Tristan finally turned to look at his brother, his eyes glassy. “But what if it’s not enough? What if she never fully recovers? What if… What if we can’t get back to what we were?” He paused, his voice barely above a whisper. “What if we never have the future we planned?”

James tightened his grip on Tristan’s shoulder, offering him silent support. “Tristan, I’ve seen the way you look at her. I’ve seen how you fight for her every single day. Do you still love her?”

Tristan’s breath hitched, and he swallowed hard, his emotions threatening to spill over. He nodded slowly, the words catching in his throat before he could speak. “I don’t just love her, James. I’m in love with her. I’m so in love with her, it hurts. It’s not just about loving someone—it’s about being completely, utterly consumed by it. And I don’t know how to live without her. I don’t want to.”

James looked at his brother, seeing the raw pain in his eyes. “Then that’s what matters, Tristan. You love her, and you’re in love with her. Whatever happens, whatever challenges come your way, you’ll face them together. You don’t have to have all the answers right now. But you do have love, and that’s a hell of a place to start.”

Tristan finally let the tears fall, his emotions spilling out as James pulled him into a hug. “I just want her to be okay,” he choked out, his voice breaking. “I want us to be okay.”

“You will be,” James murmured, holding him tightly. “Just keep loving her, and keep believing you’ll find your way through this together. You’re not alone in this.”

That evening, Tristan met with Chris. They discussed Sophie's progress and her heartfelt request to return home. Chris considered the situation carefully, knowing how crucial it was to balance her need for comfort with her ongoing recovery.

"She's made significant strides, Tristan," Chris said thoughtfully, leaning back in his chair. "But I believe she is still holding back."

Tristan shook his head in frustration. "She's made it through sessions without me. She's admitted to things I could never imagine. What else could she be hiding?"

Chris closed his eyes briefly, then opened them, meeting Tristan's gaze. "She's trying so hard to find her way home. Look, take her home. Let her choose if she wants to sleep beside you or not. I want you to have a nurse in the house with a med bag and sedation. And, Tristan, I want you to be emotionally prepared for a potential setback."

Tristan nodded, understanding the gravity of Chris's words. He knew this was a delicate step, and he had to be prepared for anything.

When Tristan returned to Sophie's room, she looked at him with a mixture of hope and anxiety. He sat beside her and took her hands in his. "Chris and I talked. We've decided that you can come home, Sophie. We'll have some supports in place to make sure you're safe and well."

Sophie's eyes filled with tears again, but this time they were tears of relief and joy. "Thank you, Tristan," she whispered. "Thank you so much."

* * *

Tristan and Sophie began the journey across the drive back to their home. He held her hand the entire way, his presence a constant reassurance.

When they arrived, he helped her into the house. She took a deep breath, the familiar sights and smells enveloping her like a warm embrace. Tears streamed down her face as she looked around, overwhelmed by the sense of being home.

"Welcome back, Sophie," Tristan said softly, his eyes filled with love.

"We're home." She turned to him, her heart swelling with gratitude. "I never thought I'd be back here.”

He pulled her into a gentle embrace, pressing a kiss to her forehead. "This is just the beginning.”

The atmosphere was both tense and hopeful. Tristan, Sophie, James, and Matt—the overnight nurse—sat together for dinner. The meal was simple but comforting, an attempt to create a sense of normalcy.

After dinner, Tristan and Sophie retreated to the porch, the same place he’d shared his fears with his brother. The night was quiet, the air cool and soothing. She turned to him, her eyes searching his face. "Can we go to bed?"

Tristan nodded. "Of course."

She hesitated before speaking again. "I want to sleep beside you."

He rubbed his chest and smiled. "Okay.”

As they settled into bed, she curled up next to him, feeling a sense of peace she hadn't felt in a long time. "I love you, Tristan," she whispered.

His arms wrapped around her. "I love you too, Sophie.”

With Tristan by her side, she closed her eyes and drifted into a restful sleep, comforted by the knowledge that she was finally home.

* * *

Tristan also slept deeply. His body relaxed, and he dreamed. Sophie was being adventurous, painting kisses across his chest. Her lips suckled each nipple, bringing them to points. His cock grew hard. Her scent filled his nostrils as her wet warmth engulfed him.

Suddenly, he opened his eyes. It wasn’t a dream. It was Sophie. She’d straddled him and was riding his cock.

Reaching up, he placed a hand on each side of her waist, lifting her free. “Sophie, what are you doing?”

“Tristan, I need this. I need you.” Her voice was unrecognizable.

He stopped her. “Sweetheart, you’re not ready for this.” As much as he didn’t want her to stop, he did what he thought was best.

“Why are you doing this? I thought you loved me.”

“More than you know—and that’s why I stopped you. You and I will make love, but not like this. Talk to me, Sophie. You aren’t this woman. Tell me what you are so afraid to tell me.”

Her reaction was immediate and fierce. She screamed at him, her face contorted with rage and pain. Before Tristan could react, she bolted from the bed, running through the house in a blind panic.

"Sophie, wait!" He grabbed his robe and rushed after her. He found her in the living room, trying to get out the door, her body trembling with a mix of fear and anger. As he reached for her, she crawled away, her movements desperate and erratic.

Tristan dropped to his knees, crawling after her. "Please, Sophie, talk to me."

Matt appeared, moving toward her, holding a syringe. Tristan waved him off, his focus solely on Sophie. He remembered Chris's warning, understanding this was the potential setback he had to be ready for.

Tristan's voice was soft but urgent. "Sophie, tell me what you're feeling. Please, let me in."

She backed herself into a corner, her screams echoing through the house. Through choking sobs, she wailed, “He choked me until I passed out. I woke up, and he was inside me.”

Tristan kept his distance, listening intently.

“He wouldn’t stop. I told him to stop. For every patient he let me take care of, I had to take care of him. He showed me what he’d do if I didn’t behave. He put me on my stomach and …” She began to rock.

“But the last time. I begged him to stop. But he wouldn’t, and I… I… couldn’t stop myself. My body wouldn’t stop. During the assault, I... I climaxed," she choked out, her voice filled with anguish.

Tristan inhaled. For every therapy session she went through. For every confession of her agony, this was the most profound.

Damon Whitlock murdered her friends. He beat her. He threatened her. He tortured her. He raped her. He sodomized her.

But her biggest failing in her mind was he’d made her come.

Tristan wanted to scoop her into his arms and hold her. His heart shattered at her confession. He approached her slowly, his arms open.

"Sophie, listen to me. That was nothing but a biological response. It's something predators like Damon Whitlock rely on to manipulate and control their victims. It doesn't define you. It doesn’t make me love you less."

She stared at him, her eyes wide and haunted. "But it feels so wrong," she whispered, tears streaming down her face. “It was wrong. I didn’t want to. I swear.”

Tristan moved closer, his voice steady and soothing. "It's not your fault. It's a natural response to an unnatural situation.”

Sophie began to sob more, her body shaking with the force of her emotions. Her sobs tore through the silence of the house.

"It's okay, Sophie. I'm here."

She stopped crawling away. Tristan sat on the floor, opening his arms. He waited patiently. Her face was damp and blotchy. She took a deep breath that erupted in another sob and

crawled into his arms.

With Matt's discreet assistance, they managed to get Sophie back into bed. Tristan stayed beside her, his hand gently holding hers. Matt’s presence in the house was a silent reminder of the support system they had, ready to intervene if necessary.

As Sophie drifted into a troubled sleep, Tristan remained vigilant. He knew tonight had been a turning point. They had confronted her deepest fear.