Page 70 of Nyx

We spend a few minutes adjusting the patio furniture and umbrellas to give us the best shade before we take our seats.

"That breeze is lovely," Traci says, tilting her head back with her eyes closed. "I feel like I could sleep for a week, but I have to pee every ten minutes."

"What are we talking about today?" Melissa asks.

I pause for a moment, figuring out how I need to say this, but there's no way to have this conversation without it seeming like what happened this morning is the trigger.

"I want to talk about the cycle of abuse," I begin, looking at each of the women so Dana doesn't feel singled out. "This, like always, is an interactive group, so although you need to stay respectful, opinions and personal stories are always welcome."

"We've talked about this before," Caroline says. "So many times."

"I think it bears repeating," I say with a small smile.

"Her husband shows up drunk and belligerent, and we have to sit through it again?" Caroline asks.

Dana shifts her weight in her chair, but she doesn't look in Caroline's direction.

"What happened this morning could happen to any one of us," I say. "Please keep that in mind."

"Would you be scared if your abuser showed up here?" Kayla asks.

"We all would be," Melissa says, thankfully answering so I don't have to. "I'm so sorry that happened."

Dana looks at Melissa, giving her a tight smile, tears forming on her lower lashes.

I offer her the tissue box I brought with me, knowing this might be hard for her.

"Thank you," she whispers, taking a tissue and using it to dab at her eyes.

"Four primary steps in the cycle of abuse," I begin. "The tension, the incident, the reconciliation, and then the calm after the storm."

"My ex rarely made it to the calm," Melissa mutters. "If I agreed with him when he was saying he was sorry, it started all over sometimes."

"The phases can last days or weeks, or they can happen in seconds," I say. "Depending on the level of abuse, it may seem like some never happen at all."

"How long were the phases with your abuser?" Kayla asks. "My ex always brought flowers at first, but the last time, when he seemed so sorry, I told him I didn't want flowers. I wanted change, and he hit me harder than he ever had before."

"The first time my ex hit me," Caroline says. "He stood over me and looked justified in what he did. I can't remember a single time that he ever apologized to me. I was always blamed. If I hadn't done XYZ, then he wouldn't have had to correct me. That's what he called the abuse—corrections. He would say he had dogs that learned faster than I did."

We all sit in silence for a moment, reflecting on her words.

I look around the group, finding Kayla looking directly at me, an expectant look in her eyes. I have to remind myself that she probably doesn't want to feel alone in her abuse. Sometimes it lessens guilt to hear that you aren't alone, that others have suffered abuse and stuck around long after the first incident, but this is also not the first or even second time she has asked me to share part of my story. I really thought I'd put it to bed earlier in the office, but clearly I haven't.

I stand my ground, refusing to share things I'm not ready to share, telling myself that some women turn the way they've been manipulated by their abusers into manipulation themselves, but speaking about that is a whole different group and not our focus today.

"We can talk all day long about the cycles our abusers go through, but today I want to focus on the cycles we go through as the survivors," I say, seeing several women shift in their seats.

This is one of the hardest conversations to have. It's easy to blame the abusive partner, and for the abuse side of things, that's never the victim's fault, but the cycle continues because we stay.

From the outside looking in, it's so easy to pinpoint all the times we could've left, how we could've handled things differently, but when you're right in the middle of it, loving the man who is hurting you, it's never as easy as many people think it is.

"We love our abusers," I say, smiling when several women scoff. "Let me clarify. We loved our abusers."

"Fear kept me locked in place," Caroline offers. "I stopped loving him the day he hit me."

"Threats are just as strong to keep us in an unhealthy situation as love is," I say, validating her.

"I still love him," Dana confesses, and thankfully, not one woman in the group voices an opinion about it.