Vanessa swallowed hard as his gaze trapped hers. She started to breathe a little easier while she looked deep into his eyes. But the guilt kept piling up, piling up, piling up... It didn't shrink at all when the hurt crept into Hank's voice. When he pulled his hand away. When he closed his eyes. The sob crept back up Vanessa's throat. She drew the washcloth back, clutching it in front of her chest. She didn't know what to say, not when everything he said was true. Of course, looking back, she knew she should have told someone. Talked to Hank about it all. But she'd been so scared... was still so scared. She didn't know how to convey that at all. Every time she tried, she fell short. She realized all her shortcomings when she tried. She was just a petty, self-centered whore. She closed her eyes to push back the tears.
"I was... so scared... those men..." Vanessa shuddered, sitting flat on the cold floor, feeling the concrete through the light material of her dress and sheets. "I was so afraid... they'd know everything. That the second I went to someone... they'd know, and it'd all be over..." She had no idea, even to this day, if they'd had that kind of power. She wrung her hands together over the washcloth. "I'm so sorry. I wish I'd known... from the beginning... what they meant to do..."