You Are Safe
Aviana
I barely slept after my visit with Cade, so I grabbed my journal and poured my thoughts into it. I read a few chapters from the book I brought with me, but every time I started to drift off, the blackness would creep back in—black mask, black eyes, black jacket. Eventually I drifted to sleep.
Waking up with the thought of that black jacket still lingering in my mind, I couldn’t shake the connection. Cade had worn a black jacket last night, but there was no way he was the mystery figure. I had seen that man in the distance as we walked to the office. Still, the thought gnawed at me. Something wasn’t adding up. I needed to get out there, walk the trail, and see if there were any clues—anything—that might lead me to this masked figure.
I grabbed my sweater and made my way to the trail. The sky was just beginning to wake up, painted in soft hues of orange and blue.
“Nightshade,” I whispered to myself, though I knew no one could hear me.
When I finally reached the trail head, I paused for a moment to take in the sunrise.
***
Past
Age 11
I woke up before anyone else, the remnants of a nightmare about Mr. Widlow still haunting me. Quietly, I tiptoed to the back porch to watch the sunrise. There was something peaceful about it, a reminder of how much more freedom I had now that I was out of the Widlow’s house.
Ms. Calley had placed me with another family after she found out about the beatings from Mr. Widlow. I never told her about the other things he’d done—too ashamed, and besides, Mrs. Widlow had already painted me as a disgrace.
“It just won’t work out for her here,” she had told Ms. Calley.
We drove forty minutes across town to the Dillard household, where three other foster kids were already living. Brynn, a 14-year-old girl, and I shared a room in the small home of Mr. Gideon and Mrs. Eloise Dillard. Caleb, 7, and Derek, 5, shared the other room. Despite the cramped living situation, we all seemed to get along just fine. Brynn, being older, taught me how to braid my hair and spent hours gossiping about all the boys she had crushes on at her previous schools.
Mr. Dillard was the high school basketball coach, while Mrs. Dillard stayed home and home-schooled us. She believed we all needed extra attention, especially after Brynn had been in trouble a few times at her old school, so Mrs. Dillard refused to send her to public school. When Ms. Calley shared the details of my abuse with Mrs. Dillard, she thought it best to keep me out of the public eye too—my body still marked with bruises from the slaps and belt strikes.
A few months in, the Dillards told us they would be taking in another foster child. I couldn’t help but hope it wasn’t another girl. I liked my little space with Brynn. But I also wondered where this new kid would stay, given how cramped our bungalow already was.
***
Thinking back on the Dillard family, they were such a kind couple. For a while, I really thought it was going to work out, that they would adopt me. But then he came along.
“Aviana, there you are!” I hear from behind, and I jump, startled.
“What the hell?” I yelp, spinning around to face Cade.
“Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you. I didn’t see you at breakfast, and even Scarlet said she hadn’t seen you. I was a bit worried,” he explains.
“I didn’t sleep much last night and wanted to get out here to see the sunrise. It’s something I used to do as a child after leaving the Widlow’s house.”
“Would you like to talk about it, Avi?”
I freeze, a sharp jolt of panic hitting my chest. “Aviana!” I correct him, my voice too loud, too tight. The nickname feels like a trigger, like something I can’t escape.
“Is everything okay? You seem tense this morning,” he asks, oblivious to the shift in me.
“I guess I’m just tired. I’m sorry.”
“There you go again, apologizing for something out of your control,” he remarks.
I nod absently, but his words feel distant, like they’re being muffled, swallowed by the growing pressure inside me. My breath catches, and my heart picks up pace, pounding against my ribs. My mind starts to spin, the world around me blurring.
“Avi—”
“No!” I snap, the sound of my nickname making everything worse. My hands tremble, and the tightness in my throat makes it hard to breathe. “Don’t call me that. Please.”
I blink, trying to focus, but my body is betraying me. My throat constricts, my hands are numb, and the air feels suffocating. I force myself to nod, but it’s hard to tell if I actually do or if it’s just the thought of it playing out in my mind. Panic claws at my chest, and I struggle to find my grounding.
“I think I want to go for a walk and maybe attend another one of Dr. Flores’ yoga classes. That might help,” I say, trying to steer the conversation away from whatever tension is building between us.
“I was hoping to steal you away for your morning session,” he says, his voice laced with a quiet insistence.
“I’m going for a walk now. Why don’t we just get it over with?” I suggest, the frustration bubbling up as I try to avoid the weight of the moment.
“Do you want to do it here, or should we head to my office so it’s more private?” he offers, a touch of consideration in his tone.
“I think I’d rather stay out here,” I respond quickly, my voice betraying a slight tremor. The thought of being alone with him in his office feels too intimate, too charged, especially after everything I’ve been feeling. I don’t trust myself in that space with him—not when the lines between us are already blurred. “The fresh air might help clear my head more,” I add, trying to sound casual, but the nervousness I feel is hard to hide.
I glance around, anything to distract from the tension building between us, and focus on the open space around us.
“Aviana?” He says my name softly, noticing the tension that’s crept into my posture. “Just remember, you’re safe. No one can hurt you here. I promise.”
I nod, but my mind feels foggy, like I’m wading through a haze. I try to remind myself that he’s my therapist—that he won’t hurt me—but the unease lingers. Why won’t he respect my wishes and stop calling me by that wretched nickname?
Our footsteps crunch against the gravel beneath us, the sound sharp and steady, filling the silence. After a few moments, he speaks again, breaking through the noise in my head. “How did you sleep? Did you get any sleep at all?”
The question catches me off guard, and I glance up at him, struggling to find the right words. “Not great,” I admit, the truth slipping out before I can hold it back. “I thought being here would help, but instead… the nightmares are coming back stronger than ever.”
He nods, his gaze steady but soft. “That can happen when you relive old memories.”
I swallow, feeling a tightness in my chest. The weight of his words hangs in the air, like they’re meant to comfort me, but they only make me feel more exposed.
I swallow hard, trying to keep my voice steady. “I know,” I say quietly, my eyes focused on the path ahead, avoiding his gaze. “But it’s like they’re taking over… like I can’t escape them, even when I’m awake.”
I wrap my arms loosely around myself, as if trying to shield my thoughts. “I don’t know how to stop them, or if I even can.”
He gives a small, reassuring nod, his voice steady. “The more we work together, the more I can help you take control of them. You don’t have to face them alone.”
There’s a calmness in his words, but the way he says it makes me feel vulnerable—like he’s peeling back layers I’m not ready to reveal. It’s unsettling, like he’s seeing something in me that I’m still trying to hide. I glance down, unable to meet his eyes, torn between wanting his help and fearing how much closer he might get. The idea of him digging deeper makes my chest tighten, the vulnerability too much to bear.
***
Past
Age 11
Today was the day the new kid was arriving, or so the Dillards said. Gideon took the day off to be there when the social worker came.
When the knock came, we rushed to the front room. Gideon opened the door, and my eyes immediately locked with a boy’s icy stare. His blonde hair framed his sharp face, and his blue eyes were colder than I could have imagined. I felt like he was staring straight into me. There was something about him—an aura of trouble that intrigued me. As he stepped in, I caught the faint scent of rain on the earth, grounding yet oddly enticing.
Brynn’s voice whispered next to me. “He’s the one, Avi. He’s my soulmate.”
I glanced at her, rolling my eyes. “He’s your foster brother now, Brynn. No fraternizing.”
We were still talking when he walked right up to us. “Hello, ladies,” he said, his voice smooth and confident.
Both Brynn and I froze, mesmerized. His presence stole our breath.
“I’m Maverick. And you are?” he asked, flashing a smile that made it hard to breathe.
Gideon introduced us. “These are our girls, Brynn and Aviana. Say hello. ”
“Hello,” we both said, Brynn’s voice full of awe. I hoped she’d follow the rules, but I could already tell she was captivated. I just hoped she wouldn’t get us into trouble.
What I didn’t know was that Maverick—just as old as Brynn—had set his sights on me .
***
Cade had walked back to his office after telling me to meet him later for our evening session, and I was left to make my way back to the cabin. The path seemed to stretch on longer than I expected as I walked, lost in my thoughts. I had been scheduled for art today, but instead, I decided to try yoga—it wasn’t planned, but I hoped it might help clear my mind.
I didn’t realize how far I’d gone until I stumbled upon a patch of Nightshade flowers growing along the path. Their light purple blooms drooped, heavy and sad, like they were weighed down by something invisible. And for a moment, it felt like I was staring at a reflection of myself—and everyone else at Heal Your Soul. Fragile. Worn.
“Nightshade,” I whispered, leaning in to get a closer look at the delicate petals, careful not to disturb them. But before I could lose myself in the quiet, I heard a faint crunch from further down the path. My heart skipped, and I froze, listening intently, the calm shattered by the unexpected sound.
Startled, I looked up and froze. At the top of the hill stood a man, cloaked in all black. It can’t be. It can’t be the same man. The sun is out, and he’s standing there, completely exposed. He could be seen by anyone.
“Hey!” I called out, my voice trembling, walking toward him, but unease gripped me. His stare was cold, empty, like Maverick’s—but worse.
“Run, Little Bird,” he said, his voice robotic. I froze, fear crawling up my spine. “When I get a hold of you, you’ll be the perfect girl for me.”
I couldn’t breathe. It was him. It had to be.
Without thinking, I turned and ran. My only thought was to reach Cade’s office. Could he protect me like he promised? My feet pounded the earth, and I didn’t dare stop.
***
Past
Age 11
“Run or I’ll catch you, Avi!” Maverick shouts as I dash toward the treehouse, but before I can make it, he grabs me, pulling me into his arms.
“Gotcha! Now what am I going to do with you?” he says, his voice dripping with amusement.
Unease fills me, and before I can react, he’s lifting me over his shoulder, carrying me toward the shed.
“I’m it now,” I say, trying to wriggle free. “Let’s tell everyone to hide again.”
Inside the shed, he tosses me onto an old mattress, making me hit my elbow. Before I can move, he straddles me and ties my hands to the lawnmower with his belt.
“Maverick, get off,” I protest.
SLAP.
“No,” he grins. “I have a better idea. Let’s play truth or dare.”
The sting of his slap hits hard, and I wince, remembering the only other time I’d been hit. I hesitate. The fear creeping up my spine is hard to ignore. But I don’t want to argue. I just want to get this over with.
His eyes gleam with something dark, and I know I’ve made a mistake.
“Fine,” I say, my voice shaky
He leans in, his breath warm against my ear. “I only do dares,” he says, as though daring me is some sort of privilege. “I dare you to stay still. Don’t move a muscle.”
I grumble under my breath, but he starts tracing a feather up my legs. Panic rises in my chest as the touch sends shivers through me. The higher he goes, the more my body tightens, until I can’t stop the tears.
“Good girl,” he murmurs, his voice low and sinister.
The game isn’t fun anymore. It never really was.
** *
I keep running, my feet pounding the dirt until I finally reach the building where Dr. Brenner’s office is. I yank open the door, and the receptionist, Cynthia, shouts, “Hey! You can’t just rush in here. You need an app—”
I cut her off, slamming my hands onto her desk. “I need Dr. Brenner now!”
“Aviana, I don’t think he’s here at the moment,” she says.
Just then, Dr. Brenner steps out from the hallway bathroom. “Aviana! What a surprise,” he says, raising an eyebrow.
“Please… you have to help. Someone’s chasing me,” I stammer, panic rising in my chest.
“Take it easy. You’re safe now,” he says, his voice low and reassuring. But there’s something in his eyes—a flicker of something darker—that I can’t quite place.
Before I can react, he moves toward me, his hands gentle but firm as he pulls me into his arms. “Come on,” he murmurs, guiding me toward his office. My body tenses at the closeness, but I can’t think of anything else but getting away from whatever it is that’s chasing me.
He opens the door, his grip tightening around me as he ushers me inside. The door shuts behind us with a soft thud, sealing us in.
“They were—on the trail,” I manage between gasps, tears starting to spill.
“Shhh, you’re safe now, Avi.”
I don’t mind the nickname. In that moment, with him holding me, it’s the first time in my life I feel truly safe.