Page 12 of Body and Soul

The struggle behind his eyes deepened, his breath quickening. I could see his instinct to run, the same instinct that had kept him alive this long. But beneath that, I saw the flicker of something else—something raw, fragile, and yearning for a way out.

His fingers gradually loosened in his lap. When he finally met my gaze, the fury that had lit his eyes flickered, giving way to something far more vulnerable—despair cloaked in confusion. “Why would you help me?”

“Because I’ve been where you are,” I said softly. “And no one should have to go through it alone.”

Silence stretched between us, thick with tension, but also with the fragile thread of understanding. Eli looked away, his lips pressed into a thin line as he absorbed my words.

“You don’t have to decide anything right now,” I added gently, sensing that he was on the edge of a decision. “But I’m here. If you need me.”

I leaned back slightly, giving him space, watching carefully for his next move. His shoulders relaxed, and his breathing steadied.

“I…” He hesitated, biting his lip. “I don’t know.”

“That’s okay,” I reassured him. “Take your time.”

Eli stared into his coffee cup, the silence between us settling into something less hostile, more contemplative. He was still guarded, but the hard edge of his resistance had dulled. I could see it—he was beginning to trust me, to open himself up, even if he wasn’t fully aware of it yet.

And that was exactly where I needed him to be.

Eli stared into his coffee, the tension in his body slowly unraveling as my words sank in. I let the silence stretch, giving him room to process, to reflect. Pressuring him too much now would send him running again.

Eli looked down at his hands, fidgeting with the hem of his shirt. “I’ve never had anyone say stuff like that to me before,” he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. He traced the rim of his cup with his finger, not meeting my gaze. “Most people just... leave.”

There it was. The abandonment, the loneliness. I filed it away. Another crack in the armor.

I leaned in. “People can be cruel, Eli. They get scared of what they don’t understand.”

He bit his lip, his expression troubled. “Yeah... I guess.”

I watched him carefully, noting the way his eyes flicked toward the door, still calculating an escape even as his body softened into the conversation. He was like a skittish animal, inching closer to something he wanted, but was still too afraid to take.

“Do you want to talk about what happened to you?” I prompted gently.

Eli hesitated, his hand tightening around the coffee mug again. “I don’t know. It’s... complicated. I’ve been through a lot.” He glanced up at me briefly before looking away again. “I don’t even know where to start.”

I gave a small, encouraging nod. “Start wherever you want.”

He drew in a shaky breath, his fingers still fidgeting, and finally looked at me. “It’s not just the moving around.” His voice was low, filled with a kind of weariness that came from years of carrying too much. “I wasn’t safe. Ever.”

That was the opening I had been waiting for. I leaned forward slightly, my tone staying calm but filled with empathy. “I’m sorry you had to live like that, Eli.”

He swallowed hard, his throat bobbing with the effort. “It wasn’t my choice, obviously. But...it’s hard to get away from stuff like that. It stays with you. Even when you think you're free, it’s always... there.”

I nodded, letting him know I understood. “Trauma can be like that. It lingers, even when you're no longer in danger. But you don’t have to carry it alone anymore.”

His eyes flickered with uncertainty, but also something else—hope, perhaps? He wanted to believe me. He wanted to believe someone could share his burden, even if he didn’t fully trust it yet.

“And that brand you carry,” I added gently, “that’s a reminder, isn’t it? A reminder of what you’ve survived.”

His head jerked up in surprise, eyes wide. For a moment, he looked like he might shut down again, pull away. But then, almost imperceptibly, he nodded. “Yeah...you could say that.”

“You don’t have to explain it all now,” I said softly, sensing how close I was to breaking through. “But if you ever want to talkabout it—about what you’ve been through—I’ll be here to listen. No pressure, no judgment. Just... support.”

Eli looked at me for a long moment, his gaze searching mine, as if trying to find the catch, the trap. But he wouldn’t find one. Not overtly, anyway. The more I played this carefully, the more he would come to rely on me without realizing how deeply he was being ensnared.

He finally gave a small, tentative nod. “Maybe... sometime. But not right now.”

“That’s perfectly fine.” I smiled softly, backing off enough to keep him comfortable. “Whenever you’re ready.”

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