The Knowing

By Valerie Lane

"We all want our stories to be heard, but it's tough to say them out loud, especially for the first time."

The Knowing is a compelling novel about 

• Language: English
• Publisher: New Degree Press
• Release date: Apr 29, 2021
• ISBN: 9781637302521

Book preview

The Knowing

Valerie Lane

New Degree Press

Copyright © 2021 Valerie Lane

All rights reserved.

The Knowing

ISBN 978-1-63676-809-0 Paperback

978-1-63730-233-0 Kindle Ebook

978-1-63730-252-1 Ebook

To my fellow survivors.

Contents

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Author’s Note

Prologue

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Acknowledgments

Author’s Note

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When I was in fourth grade, I wrote a report on the first A Series of Unfortunate Events book by Lemony Snicket. This book report was no doubt completed in size fourteen purple Comic Sans font. (Even at age nine, Times New Roman couldn’t hold me back.) As I was struggling to write my conclusion, I suddenly thought, I don’t want to be the one writing about the book, I want to write the book! And so, the seed of authorship was planted. Mrs. Newman, thank you for accepting my terrible choice in font.

Fast-forward nineteen years. My writing has progressed as I have grown. I no longer find Comic Sans to be an acceptable form of self-expression, and my writing has turned from the reviews of others’ work, to creating my own. I wrote this book during the COVID-19 global pandemic, when civil unrest loomed almost as large as the virus fear, and the 2020 election cycle stimulated questions of corruption and character. Mental health became a conversation around dinner tables across the United States. In my opinion, it was a new chapter for openly discussing a topic previously shushed and ignored.

It’s important to note I also wrote this book in the aftermath of Harvey Weinstein’s conviction, a number of documentaries sharing victim’s stories of survival were widely available (Such as: Athlete A, Surviving R. Kelly, and Jeffrey Epstein: Filthy Rich), and the #MeToo movement paved a path to justice for women across the country. This turning point for victims of sexual assault inspired me to write, and my story of survivorship is reflected dimly in these pages. While I never pressed charges against my perpetrator, I wanted Harper’s story to be different.

I owe it to my fellow women who have shared their experiences of the trauma they endured to normalize the conversation around PTSD, therapy, and recovery. I have kept my secret for over a decade, and though I will never have justice, I reach out to you, the woman who shares my secret, or you, the young person afraid to come out, or you, the parent who suspects their child is a victim. I’m here to tell you it’s okay to not be okay.

Healing from grief, like this year that took away so much, and trauma, like surviving sexual assault, is seen as an individual experience. Humans grieve privately, cope independently, look inward to find the courage to go on—or so we are told. Trauma affects us all, whether the experience is ours or of a loved one. It affects our work, our relationships with friends and family, how we wait in line at the grocery store, and mostly, it affects the relationship we have with ourselves. This is the most important relationship of all.

I want this work to be a place where readers connect with the mental health struggles and life experiences of fictional characters and to help them to reconnect with themselves and their family members amidst their own struggles. If you have experienced sexual assault, or another form of trauma, I hope this book gives you the feeling you’re not alone. If you have family members who endured trauma but don’t discuss it openly, I hope this book provides a foundation of understanding. And for anyone grappling with themes of racism, homophobia, or the thought therapy is for broken people, I hope this book changes your perspective. We are all human, living this life for the first time.

I wrote this for my fellow survivors. I hope you read it for them, too.

Prologue

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Alibi’s Bar, Five Years Ago:

You want another shot? Brittany yelled to Harper. She shook her head no and Brittany ordered her one anyway. 

I think that guy is into you, said Jess, the girl who had originally introduced Brittany and Harper. Mostly they kept her around out of courtesy. 

Harper giggled, I know, I’ve been looking at him. The alcohol lubricating her confidence, she held the straw of her vodka soda and sipped, eying up his date. 

Want me to spill my drink on her dress? Brittany asked, pushing herself between Harper and Jess with three shots and a new gin and tonic. 

Don’t bother, I think she’s toast anyway. Harper tossed back the shot. 

They took to the dance floor and within minutes the crowd had parted. It wasn’t every day the dance team went to Alibi’s. All eyes were on the skilled dancers hitting every beat drop with precision, and yet Harper only cared about one person’s gaze.

Later, standing at the bar waiting for three waters, Jess, Harper, and Brittany were in the middle of debating how late they should stay out. 

Do you guys want to stay here or go next door? Jess asked, oblivious to Harper’s quest to get the guy. Just then, Harper felt a soft hand on her back. 

He was tall, but shorter than she had expected. His height coming in at around five foot ten, there was a good seven inches between them. He had brown hair that was cut well, short on the sides, and longer up top with a little bit of product to hold everything in place. His smile was boy-next-door innocent coupled with a five o’clock shadow peeking through. 

This was nothing compared to his arms. Muscular, as if his biceps felt like a blue t-shirt was too constraining for a night out. His pecs displayed through the shirt nicely, rivaling Harper’s cleavage. He looked like an all-star quarterback.

His presence silenced Jess and Brittany, gaining attention from others as well. Harper swore she heard a record scratch. 

Can I help you? Harper cooed.

I don’t know, can you? He replied. 

Harper saw Brittany take Jess by the arm and lead her back to the dance floor. 

What happened to your friend? Harper asked. 

Don’t worry about her. 

In that moment, hope in her eyes and butterflies in her stomach, Harper couldn’t have imagined just how much she would regret ever meeting him.

You got a name? 

Brandon.

Chapter 1

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Forehead pressed to the steering wheel rim, Harper exhaled and spoke aloud in the empty car. 

You can do this Harper. Just get out of the car, get your goods, and get out. You can do hard things. 

It wasn’t what spiritual mentor and motivational speaker Glennon Doyle intended when she popularized the phrase We Can Do Hard Things in her New York Times Bestseller, Untamed, but it rang true in the current climate of Harper’s life. Sometimes, grocery shopping was the hard thing. 

With questionable produce, half stocked shelves, and outdated magazines in the checkout line, this was the only grocery store where she could be sure she wouldn’t run into any of his friends. Brandon wasn’t the problem anymore, but running into his friends could be. And given her morning therapy session, she really couldn’t bear to run into anyone today. 

I’d like to learn more about your past trauma Harper, when you’re ready, her therapist had stated just ninety minutes earlier. 

Harper did an internal groan at the mention of trauma. She knew Dr. Collins was trying to be helpful and move the conversation forward, but talking about her past was something she wasn’t interested in doing. She had made the appointments and taken the right steps to address her PTSD symptoms, but there was real work hidden in the weekly sessions. Harper just wasn’t ready to face it. 

Pulling out her grocery list as she entered the store, Harper scanned the items and began charting her course. She grabbed a cart and pointed it toward a pile of tomatoes.

Harper smiled gently at a woman with a cart full of produce. She was standing directly in front of the tomato mountain with no signs of hustling the "which garlic clove feels best?" decision, leaving Harper patiently waiting. Grocery shopping on a weekend while hungry was foolish, Harper knew this fact. But with Wednesday nights now dedicated to group therapy, and teaching dance classes,