My body felt heavy as I lifted myself from the bed, as if I could’ve stayed there all day and found no additional energy from sleep. I showered and made my way downstairs to determine my cleaning, work, and training assignments for the day. As my foot descended the last step, my heart descended to the floor with it. I saw a packed duffle bag on the couch, it had a Post-it with my name placed on it. I stepped toward the bag slowly. Just as I picked up the piece of paper with my name on it, Law entered the room.
“I was wondering when you would make your way down,” He said.
“You’re giving up on me,” I said.
“Danielle, that’s not what this is,” Law said, knowing to take the defensive immediately with me.
“Clearly. You know, I told you I didn’t want to stay here. I told you what I was and you insisted,” I said coldly.
“And I stand by what I said. I believe —”
“We ready to go?” Caleb said, walking into the room with a backpack slung over both shoulders and the straps tightened.
“I think I can find my own way home,” I said, snatching the bag off the couch.
“Crosswoods might be a little different from what you remember,” Law replied.
“Crosswoods?” I asked in confusion.
“Please sit down a minute,” Law said, gesturing toward the couch. I sat, my shoulder leaning on the bag. “I’ve spoken with Joyce about what I believe to be the underlying issue with your inability to use your gift. You’re guarded- and understandably so. You’ve put up walls and nothing good is allowed to get in. We need you to tap into your compassion, your love for other human beings. Although I have my beliefs on what will help, she seems to think the best approach is for you to return home, to visit your family. Your trigger is a result of someone hurting your brother and your mother, two people you love. Though your mother has passed on, your brother and your father are still alive. We think if you can allow yourself to be emotionally vulnerable with anyone, perhaps it will be them. Then- maybe-if we can make a hole in that wall you built up, we can slowly start to tear it down.”
“I haven’t seen my dad or brother in over four years . . .” I said, immediately intimidated by the idea of seeing them. I missed them terribly, but I had stayed away for their own good.
“They have been made aware that you are going to visit them. Nothing too demanding, just a lunch with the family. They miss you Danielle.”
“A lunch? I can do a lunch,” I said, nodding my head rapidly, I tapped my chest with my index finger, “I’m worried about them not being safe around me, what if they say something about. . . my uncle?”
“Joyce has spoken with them about your recovery and what topics to stay clear of. She’s expressed that they should avoid any triggers or talking about the past, the institution, anything that might be a potential for danger.”
“So basically everything,” I said with a nervous laugh.
“There will be plenty to discuss, I’m sure. As a precaution, Caleb will be joining you,” Law said, “He doesn’t have to join you for lunch; he can wait outside, if you prefer.”
“I don’t know about this,” I said, beginning to shiver with angst.
“You can do this, Danielle,” Law said.
“Okay. . .” I said, trying not to slip through the hole in my mind, devouring my thumbnail and cuticle. “When are we supposed to leave?”
“Whenever you’re ready to go,” Caleb said.
We took one of Law’s trucks and began our drive to Crosswoods. Although it was only an hour-and-a-half away with traffic, every mile of the journey created additional buildup of distress inside me. My hands were unable to steady themselves. My nails were now down to nubs and my fingers had thin layers of redness around the outside, where layers of skin had been chewed off. I tried to put my hands down or in my lap, but every other moment returned to continue my nervous habit.
“If you’re hungry, we can stop to get something to eat. You don’t have to resort to cannibalism,” Caleb said, looking over at me.
I quickly folded my hands together and placed them between my knees.
“Or we can pray, that works too,” Caleb said with a laugh.
“Not funny,” I said, casting a glance at him.
“I’m sorry. I’m just trying to lighten the mood, get your mind off things. I can’t imagine how you’re feeling.”
“Yes. Please distract me.”
“What would you like to talk about?”
“Anything, just make something up. Tell me a story. Hell, tell me about you.”
“About me?” Caleb repeated, rendering his expression contemplative. “Okay. Well, when I was an only child to my parents — I lived in Lamen at that time. When I was seven, my dad killed my mother, then shot himself.”
I immediately threw every ounce of my attention to Caleb. Did I just hear that right?
“Wait, what?” I asked, “Is this a real story or are you
