Sofia’s POV
“You don’t have to share if you’re not ready. Just being here counts.”
That was what the facilitator said. Their words were gentle but even with that it still twisted something tight inside of my stomach.
I sat down in the back row. My hoodie pulled up over my head. My knees were up to my chest as if that could keep everything inside of me.
The small room at the queen community cemetery smelled faintly of lavender and coffee. I counted up to ten other women that were there. Some where older. Some were close to my age. But everyone was carrying their own quiet weight.
I kept my eyes fixed on the carpet that was torn. I had come because the nightmares had refused to stop. One careless comment of someone from work had somehow opened a wound that I thought was scarred over. No
