Jamie snagged a bag of BBQ chips from his father's stockpile, opening them and crunching into a handful. "Seems only fitting, for this time of year," he added.
"Swallow first, then talk," Roxanna said, poking him. He made an exaggerated gulping noise that was mostly for her benefit.
"How do you get past it?" she asked, slumping down further into the couch. "Because I feel like I'll be having nightmares for months, and the thought of going back to campus made me shove my head under my pillow and cry, until they helped me out."
"There's no shortcut," Jamie said, licking barbecue flavor off his thumb. "No trick, no shortcut, no magic bullet. It takes time, and people who care. Fortunately, you've got both, and you just have to let yourself heal. To this day, I have an physical, gut reaction to cheap rubber masks-the people who nabbed me were wearing them, and so was their demon ringleader. Everyone scars differently, and everyone heals differently."