I never imagined that healing could begin inside an ordinary meeting room. There were no hospital beds waiting for us, no government officials asking questions and no investigators directing the conversation. Instead, there was a long wooden table, fresh coffee, sandwiches that nobody seemed interested in eating and a quiet understanding that every person walking through the door carried pieces of the same broken past.
Wayne had arranged for us to meet at a secure community center outside the city and the location had been kept confidential until the last possible moment. Only the survivors, their immediate families and our team knew where we were.
I stood beside one of the windows while Drake quietly remained at my side and every few seconds I caught myself looking toward the entrance.
