Redemption

Chapter 10: Group Therapy

Summary: The group goes to group therapy for the first time four weeks after they all officially healed up mostly after the attacks, and the group learns some things about each other that they had no idea had happened. 

⚠: Talks of grooming, pedophilia, statuary rape, attempted rape, and rapey behavior (I was two days years old when I found out that rapey is an actual word). 

______________________________________

Amber lies on her bed in silence, her eyes fixed on the ceiling as if searching for answers that won't come. The room is dimly lit, the curtains drawn to keep out the harsh daylight that feels too intrusive. It's been four weeks since the attacks, but the memories are as vivid as ever, replaying in her mind with relentless clarity. Her body still feels the weight of the injuries, the scars a constant reminder of what happened. 

The past two weeks since her discharge from the hospital have blurred together, days and nights melding into one long stretch of numbness. The walls of her room, once a sanctuary, now feel like a cage, closing in on her with each passing moment. The bed, which should offer comfort, feels foreign, a place where sleep eludes her and where she battles the demons in her mind. 

From the kitchen, Amber hears the faint clatter of dishes and the familiar sound of Jill's voice, slightly muffled but unmistakably animated as she speaks to someone on the phone. The sounds are distant, like they belong to a world Amber can no longer reach—a world that continues to turn despite the stillness she feels inside. Jill's laughter echoes faintly through the walls, a stark contrast to the heavy silence that surrounds Amber. The warmth and life in Jill's voice only amplify the cold emptiness in the room. 

She's probably talking to Kirby. 

Amber hasn't been on social media, nor has she had any real desire to check it. But tonight, something compels her to reach over to her nightstand. Her hand hovers momentarily before she grabs her phone off the charger, pulling it to hover over her face. She hesitates for a second, then opens Instagram, her finger scrolling through the usual posts. Nothing stands out at first—mundane updates, photos of meals, and snippets of daily life. But then she pauses, her breath catching as she sees a post from Mindy. 

The image on her screen shows Chad lying in his hospital bed, eyes half-open, giving a weak thumbs-up. The caption reads, "He's pulling through, one day at a time. 💪❤️ #fighter." Amber's thumb hovers over the screen, unable to scroll past it. It was posted three weeks ago. She knows because everyone else had been discharged by then, except for her. The sight of Chad looking so fragile stirs something deep within her—relief, guilt, a sense of detachment. 

She thinks back to the last few weeks. No one except Sam and Jill had come to check on her while she was in the hospital. Jill, of course, had to; she was Amber's guardian until Amber turned 18, and there was no way Amber could've gotten back to the apartment without her. But it wasn't just duty that brought Jill; Amber knows she genuinely cares for her, even if Jill's way of showing it sometimes feels more obligatory than heartfelt. 

Sam's visit, on the other hand, was unexpected. Amber hadn't been sure what to make of it at first. The last time they were in a hospital together, the circumstances were far different—Amber had just attacked Tara as Ghostface, and any semblance of trust between her and Sam was shattered. The animosity between them had been palpable, a silent tension neither acknowledged but both felt deeply. Yet, for Tara's sake, they buried it, at least on the surface. 

This time, when Sam walked into the hospital room, the air between them was different. The tension was still there, but it was muted, softened by the weight of recent events. They talked—awkwardly at first, about mundane things, the kind of small talk that fills the space between two people unsure of where they stand with each other. But gradually, the conversation shifted. They found themselves discussing random things—movies, music, memories that weren't tied to bloodshed or betrayal. For the first time in what felt like forever, Amber didn't feel like she had to guard herself around Sam. The walls they had built up over time had started to crumble, piece by piece.