Nightmares
Cade
Dinner had ended almost an hour ago. I came back to my cabin after waiting at the trail for over twenty minutes. Aviana said she was just going back to grab her water bottle, but she never came back.
Maybe she changed her mind. Maybe she wasn’t ready to trust me yet.
I let out a slow breath, running a hand through my hair. It made sense—she didn’t know me, not really. We had only just met, and trust wasn’t something she could give easily. Not after everything she’d been through.
I reached for her file I had brought back with me, flipping it open under the dim light of my cabin. The social worker’s notes filled the pages, details of her life scrawled in ink, each word heavier than the last.
Aviana had been bounced from home to home, never staying long enough to feel safe. I clenched my jaw at the notes of almost every home she had been to that were flagged for neglect and abuse. Then there was her mother — her death labeled car accident.
No wonder she is on edge with new people. Trust doesn’t come easy for her.
I settle into bed, pulling the covers up to my chest as I stare at the ceiling, my mind restless despite the exhaustion weighing on my body. Tomorrow morning, I’ll see Aviana for her first session—a moment I’ve been anticipating. I wonder how she’ll respond, whether she’ll open up or keep her guard up like so many others before her. With a slow exhale, I close my eyes, willing myself to sleep, knowing that tomorrow might be the beginning of something significant for her… or another battle to earn her trust.
***
Past
Two Years Earlier
The clock on the wall ticked steadily, marking the end of the session. Across from me, my patient let out a slow breath, their shoulders slightly less tense than when they’d walked in.
“That’s all for today,” I said, offering a small nod. “Same time next week?”
They hesitated before giving a slight, almost reluctant nod. “Yeah… thanks, Dr. Brenner.”
I watched them leave, waiting until the door clicked shut before exhaling. Therapy wasn’t just about guiding others through their pain—it was about carrying it with them, even when they didn’t realize it.
I rolled my shoulders, reaching for the notepad to jot down a few final notes before heading out. That’s when my phone rang.
I hesitated for just a second before answering. “Dr. Brenner.”
“Cade Brenner?” The voice was firm, unfamiliar, edged with something that made my stomach drop.
“Yeah,” I answered, my own voice tight.
“This is Detective Meyers with the Mizpah PD. I’m calling about Izabella Morales.”
Everything inside me locked into place, as if my entire body had braced for impact. “What about her?”
A pause. A terrible, weighted pause, stretching too long, too thick with what wasn’t being said.
“I’m sorry to inform you that she was found dead this afternoon”
Dead.
The word echoed, but it didn’t make sense. They couldn’t. Izabella wasn’t someone who could just… cease to exist.
“No,” I muttered, my pulse hammering in my ears. “There has to be a mistake. ”
“I’m afraid not, Mr. Brenner,” Meyers said, his voice steady, too steady. “We’ll need you to come in to answer some questions.”
My grip on the phone tightened until my knuckles burned. “How?” The word barely scraped past my throat. “How did she die?”
Another pause. This one is colder.
“It appears to have been an overdose. She was found in the bathtub.” he pauses. “There was a letter addressed to you in what looks to be her handwriting left on the counter next to a bottle of pills.”
A sharp, slicing inhale. The ground beneath me shifted, the walls closing in. It felt like drowning—like water filling my lungs, dragging me under. Like I had just stepped off the edge of something I could never come back from.
Izabella was gone. And so was the part of me that still believed I could save her.
***.
I woke up, gasping, the taste of loss thick on my tongue just as the cabin phone rang sharply, jolting me out of my thoughts. I reached for it, my pulse already picking up.
“Cade, it’s Scarlet.” Her voice was tight, rushed. “It’s Aviana.”
My insides cringe at her calling me that. I will only allow Aviana to cross that line. “What’s wrong?”
“She’s having a nightmare.” Scarlet’s voice is hushed but urgent. “A bad one.”
“Is she still asleep?” I ask as I shove my feet into my boots.
“Yeah, but it’s intense. She’s thrashing, talking in her sleep. I tried waking her up, but she won’t come out of it.”
Gritting my teeth, I tuck the file under my arm. “I’ll be there shortly.”
Scarlet exhales, relief in her voice. “Thanks, Cade.”
I step out into the night, the air has a cold bite to it. My cabin isn’t far from theirs, and I take long strides, pushing through the unease curling in my gut.
Aviana has been through hell. I knew that by just looking into her eyes, but reading through her file tonight made it more real. The things her social worker has on her, the betrayals, the losses—each page felt like another punch to the gut. And now, she’s trapped in a nightmare, reliving those horrors all over again.
By the time I arrive at the cabin, my pulse is calm, steady. I give a light knock before stepping inside. Scarlet stands just within the doorway, her arms folded across her chest. “She’s awake now.” I nod, then walk toward the bedroom.