Page 33 of Jersey

I pull out my phone and shoot off a text before unlacing the ties at her wrists and feet. Instead of leaving her for one of the other people to find, I wrap her in the towel and carry her right out the back of the facility, passing Hemlock as he raises his rifle and goes inside.

And fuck, don't I wish as I carry her to safety that prostitution was the only thing going on inside. I hate the victims these types of places create.

Chapter 13

Caitlyn

"I'm not sure I understand how this is a bad dream," I say, holding up the drawing Eli created since our last session. "I thought you liked swimming in the pool."

Eli doesn't immediately answer, but I never pressure him for details. Therapy is hard enough as it is without the child feeling like everything he says will only bring more questions.

Several minutes go by in silence, and I know that his quietness proves how safe he feels around me. When we first started, his eyes would dart all over the room as if he expected something bad was going to happen if he didn't answer me right away.

"I like the pool here," he says, pulling his current drawing from the easel and tossing it to the floor. It's an act of rebellion, his movements a little fractured with a hint of violence to them. "I haven't seen anyone die in this pool."

"Is that why the water is red here?" I ask, pointing to the part of the pool that transitions from blue water to violent red.

He nods, focusing on the box of crayons as he selects his next color.

"That had to be scary," I say, my tone a little lower as I look toward the kitchen.

Both Jericho and Aspen are close enough to hear our conversation, and neither seems alarmed about the boy's confession.

I haven't been given full details about what he went through. In fact, during the interview process, I asked that they didn't tell me. I wanted to know how Eli saw what he experienced before getting information from them. I didn't want other's recollections of events to taint how I saw them through the child's eyes. It's a little unorthodox, but it's worked well for me in the past. I might've made a mistake on this one. I think knowing Eli witnessed some sort of violent death might've been important in the beginning.

Witnessing someone die is one of the most tragic things that a child, or anyone for that matter, can experience. I have to assume it wasn't a drowning with the red-and-pink splashes he has added to the water.

Maybe they hit their head, causing an injury before falling into the pool?

The look on Aspen's face tells me it wasn't some sort of freak accident. The death was either criminal, or the person dying was the criminal. If I had to guess with everything I've learned about Eli and these people, I'd wager that it was the latter that took place.

What would be good to know is if that person was a blip in Eli's life or if they were more of a permanent fixture.

"It had to happen," Eli says, looking from his drawing to me.

"Is this what makes your dreams bad? Having seen something like that?"

I break eye contact, not wanting him to feel like he's under a microscope.

"I worry he'll come back to life."

I swallow, feeling so sad for a child who has been put in a situation bad enough that he's grateful someone is dead.

"That doesn't happen," I assure him, turning my attention to his drawing in order to give him a break from such heavy things. "Is that Felix?"

Eli smiles, and this one comes a lot quicker than the ones from the earlier days of our therapy.

"He's a superhero," the child says, pointing to the red cape tied around the brown dog's neck.

"Who is he out to save today?" I ask, smiling as he tells me about the grand adventures his little cartoon dog is going to have later in the day.

As the session draws to a close, I give Eli a hug before walking across the room toward his parents.

"I'd like to remind you about the NDA you signed," Jericho says the second I'm within earshot.

"And I'd like to remind you that if there has been a crime that hasn't been reported, as a licensed therapist, I'm also a mandatory reporter," I say, standing a little taller.

"This is the folder you refused to take before," Jericho says, handing me a thick manilla folder. "I assure you that everything has been reported to the proper authorities."

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