Why is this happening?
She hurried to her feet and brushed off her scraped knees and palms, wincing at the pain. Her shaking fingers dug out her phone to dial the one person she knew could help her. But Jay didn’t answer. She tried to speak into his voicemail, but all she could manage was a wail from the back of her throat.
Breathe deep, she told herself. It’s not real. I’m just overloaded. She looked around, noticing the details of the buildings, the cars parked on the street, the hushed and dark storefronts. But her mind kept replaying her escape from Mel’s. She and Jay had worked through her emotions so that her fear had finally faded, but her lingering conviction that the world was a frightening place had not. She sometimes imagined that the needle mark in her arm had left a scar that people could see. But only she could see it.
Her phone rang and she shoved it against her ear.
“Cassidy, it’s Jay.” Just the sound of his calm voice loosened her terror. “Are you in a safe place right now?”
Cassidy looked around. “I think so,” she said, her voice high and unsteady. “I’m in San Francisco.”
“Are you in danger?”
“No,” Cassidy said, again scanning the street for threats.
“Okay,” he said calmly. “Talk to me about what’s happening.”
Cassidy let out a whimper and tried to form sentences but everything came rushing out and her words blended with sounds she couldn’t control. She broke down completely, her body bucking with sobs.
“I’m so sorry this is happening, Cassidy,” he said. “Try taking a few deep breaths.”
Cassidy clenched her eyes shut and did as he said, focusing on the movement of air until her breaths calmed. A hard, tight feeling spread from a place deep down in her stomach, as if she was digesting rocks.
“When I was traveling today,” she said, huffing out a gust of air as a way to block another outburst. Her brain must be short-circuited because normally she would never jump into a story this way—she always started at the beginning. But telling Jay about the search for Izzy felt too overwhelming. “I thought about what you’ve been trying to get me to see about Mel. That it wasn’t my fault.” She picked at a fraying thread on the hem of her shorts, her fingers shaking. “But now I’ve realized that I’ve done it again, that I’ve let someone dangerous into my life, and now all that strength I suddenly found is gone and I can’t breathe,” she said, her voice wavery. She pinched her upper lip with her lower canines, the sharp points digging in.
“Cassidy,” he said, his voice still composed but edged with purpose. “This sounds to me like you’re having a flashback, and though it feels real, it is not actually happening.”
“I know,” Cassidy protested, her scalp tingling with emotion.
“Can you describe where you are?” he asked. “Tell me about what you see and smell, what you’re hearing.”
“I’m on a street in San Francisco.” She scuffed the ground with one of her flip flops, noticing a trickle of blood descending her shin. “Near the university.” She had ended up on a street lined with modest homes and trees. “I smell exhaust and someone’s laundry.” The thought of clean laundry made her crave the feel of a soft bed. And Quinn’s company. Nobody could steady her like her brother. But he wouldn’t be home for several hours, if his plane was on time.
“Okay. Where is your physical body?” he asked.
The first time he had used this type of direction on her, she had scoffed. Of course I’m here in your office, she had thought. Where else would I be, space? But now, she was used to it, and hearing it now after not seeing him for months had an almost exponentially calming effect. “I’m on a sidewalk. There’s an apartment building on the corner, with little metal railings in front of the windows.” That would explain the laundry, she thought. There’s a laundry room somewhere and the window must be open.
“Good,” Jay said. “Feel your feet on the ground. Hear the cars passing by on the street.”
He paused and Cassidy allowed her senses to explore these perceptions. Her feet felt tired and the ground gritty beneath the thin soles of her flip flops. I am not in the treehouse, she told herself sternly. Mel is in jail.
“I want you to focus on your breathing with me for a moment,” Jay continued.
Cassidy felt an immediate sense of relief when he said this. They had done this many times together, and it never failed to calm her. By the time he finished the exercise, she felt her anxiety ebbing. Her head tipped back and she gazed into the darkness above the trees. She couldn’t see the stars, but somehow knowing they were there pulled her the rest of the way back.
“I miss you,” she whispered.
There was an awkward pause, and Cassidy felt a quiver of renewed anxiety swirl in her gut.
“Cassidy, when we said goodbye, I told you that I would always be available for you. I have enjoyed working with you very much and the way our relationship developed into one of mutual trust. I know it’s tricky to understand, but when you say you miss me, it makes me think that you’re confused about my role in your life.”
Cassidy felt a stab of disappointment so deep it could have been cut by a knife. “I’m not confused,” she said, starting to cry again. Why didn’t he understand? “I just . . . you made me feel safe.”
“I’m so glad you felt that way,” Jay said.
Cassidy calmed her tears with more breathing, feeling a deep sadness bleed into her body. She massaged her sore stomach with her free hand but it didn’t help.
“Cassidy, I
