why do these phantoms reappear?

My mom has been in Utah, and she swore she wouldn't see my cousin, but apparetnly she did (the one who randomly reappeared). Apparently they talked about me (something inside of me is dying right now). Apparently he told my mom I wasn't the only one he'd done it to, and that it had haunted him, and that he's sorry.
My gosh how much to take in at once. For years they told me he never showed any remorse over what he did. And suddenly he reappears saying sorry.
My mom and him talked about "working through it," or him getting some counseling, talking to my counselor, and eventually seeing me and talking to me.
Wow, something inside of me is blowing up at that thought. How can I see him? How can I when for twelve years I've lived with that last image of him in my bedroom, with him not being sorry? How can I look at him without throwing up? It's not that I don't forgive him. I've been pretty screwed up myself (partly thanks to him), so I know what it feels like to want to hurt someone sometimes. I would never do it, but I can't hate him for doing what he did, for being angry and confused like I have been. So that's not why I don't want to see him. I guess it's that... I've come to terms with it. I've moved on, essentially. And suddenly he has reappeared and is dragging me back into the abyss that those years create in my mind. And I don't want to fall in again. I don't I don't!
Please somebody help me, please save me, I can't handle this. Nobody's thinking about what this must mean to me, so many years later. It's like having someone murder your father, and you think the murderer is dead, but then ten years later you learn he's not. And over those ten years you've forgiven him, come to terms with him being dead and what he did, and suddenly he is back and disrupting all of that work you did.

I feel like... something vital is falling apart inside me as I type this. And I don't know how I will ever be able to handle sitting in a room with him and talking about it. Maybe that is part of moving on, but I thought I had moved on okay on my own. I don't know how I can do this.

I feel sick.