Page 20 of Frayed Owner

“I know,” I whispered, relieved to hear someone say it though.

“And some of us have had traumas with therapy and valid reasons that therapy can’t work for us,” she said gently. She nodded when I did a double take.

Yeah, busted. I swallowed loudly and was ready to defend myself, but she went on, so I didn’t have to scramble thinking of what to say.

“When I was in sixth grade, I was bullied and came home saying that I hated everything and everyone,” she told me. “I blew up at my parents that I was never going back to school. I don’t remember it all. I was a kid. I guess they realized something was going on from other signs, and being thestellarparents they were, they passed it off to someone else.

“They were informed about an ‘altercation’ and assumed it was my fault because everything was my fault. Something was my fault once that I don’t even remember, and from that moment it wasalwaysmy fault. I was always a liar. I was the problem. The answer was Emma did it. It was Emma’s fault. So they never evenasked mewhat happened.

“They were that lazy and worried about themselves—how it would make them look and playing the victims over it. Theythankedthe school for sending me to their counselor. She had no real training. She was just the vice principal at a private school so no real oversight. They needed someone for that role and they gave it to her.

“But I remember asking her what training she had to be a counselor and how we were going to handle the situation. She looked at me like I was an annoying brat and told me she’d been a teacher for twenty years and had children. That was all the training she needed to handle my issues. Handle whatI’ddone wrong.”

“She never even asked you what happened from your side, did she?” I asked, guessing exactly what happened even if I’d never been through that or real schooling.

“No. She told me what happened like I wasn’t there and she had been,” Emma said with a dark chuckle. “Shecorrected mewhen I tried to tell her the truth. She told me that I wouldn’t help myself by lying and my acting out needed to be handled. That it was a problem for everyone. That was the result. I was the problem. Like always.”

“What really happened?”

She slowed down and blinked at me. “I haven’t told this story a lot, but you’re the first to ask that so early. You’re not dense, Bevin. You’re really not. You just have—you see everything through a different lens because you’ve talked to animals more than us. I feel the same a lot having spent so much time with humans compared to more witches and warlocks.”

“Thanks. I’ll try to really accept that,” I mumbled, glad when she went back to running. It really did help me process it all and keep me from feeling overwhelmed.

“My cousin from the main branch told her friends that we weren’t related,” she answered me. “And kids being the shits they are—especially top-tier family spoiled fuckers—it was all over the school and a lot of the parents by drop-off the next morning that I was a bastard. That my mother had slept with the mailman or something ridiculous.”

“Yes, of course, the logical response,” I drawled.

“Yeah, of course,” she snarked. “Not that my cousin was annoyed with me about something—I can’t even remember what—and was being a brat. I went and told her what happened and told her to tell people the truth, but she told me it wasn’t her problem. She’s selfish. She always has been. If it’s not about her, she doesn’t care.

“So that was what started it all. I started getting bullied for being a bastard and trying to pretend I was arealtop-tier family when not my father’s child. It all came to a head when our teacher stood there as a student pulled out my chair and I got hurt. I slammed my head hard on the chair as I landed. She just watched and smirked at me.

“She’d made it clear that she’d hated me, but it was always little comments before. She thought my mom was trash or—I never really knew what her issue was. It was from day one, so it really wasn’t about me. I knew that much and my parents didn’t care, simply telling me not to be a problem. I exploded, screaming that they were all insane.

“That she was going to be in trouble for letting other students hurt me and she said I did it to myself for attention. The boy who did it said the same and thathealmost got hurt by what I did. I had a cut on the back of my head and blood in my hair and that was the story. The teacher saw nothing and I did it to myself to cause a scene.

“That was why I was sent to the principal’s office and no one even asked if my head was okay. I still remember how much it hurt—how much my neck hurt for the next week. I saw stars when I banged my head on that old metal and hard plastic chair. No one cared. So yeah, I went home saying I hated everyone and everything.”

I swallowed loudly when I realized this was going to be tit-for-tat. I told her about hearing animals and finding out my family was going to sacrifice me. How Clarence saved me and I had to hide my magic.

She listened the whole time and didn’t react. Then she took back over. “The first ‘session,’ we played a game. The Game of Life. Ever played it?”

“No, but I’ve seen it in movies or on TV. I get the concept,” I told her.

“Yeah, it’s basic. You go through the board and things happen and you progress, moveforwardand not stop and throw a fit. Everyone has theirplaceand seat in the car,” she told me, her voice tight. “That was the message loud and clear. To shut the fuck up and sit where I was told and move forward instead of focusing on what happened.”

“They might as well have told you to ignore that a teacher didn’t do her job and should have been arrested for neglect of a child—endangerment,” I bitched.

“I never thought of that.” She bobbed her head as we ran. “I did realize later that the kid was the son of someone more important than my parents. I heard that warning, but you’re right. She was telling me to keep my mouth shut about the teacher too. Thanks.”

“You’re teaching me something with this,” I hedged after a few minutes. “I feel like I understand that, but I’m too overwhelmed to see it.”

“You are, and I was going to give you the answer,” she chuckled. “I was just giving you a bit to appreciate the insight you gave. You saw something others hadn’t and—you’re impressive, Bevin. Not just your magic or that a goddess blessed you. I’ve met others who have been blessed too and—one was such a fucking asshat fool. It’s what you’vedonewith it that’s impressive.”

“I’m trying.”

“You’re doing more than trying. You’re doing it and would make Yoda proud, girl,” she praised, clapping me on the back. “And what I’m leading you to isthisis the type of therapy you need. Not one-sided. Not where you feel on display. Not with the traumas you’ve had with that.”

There it was. She recognized the same in me. She glanced at me saying she wanted the confirmation.

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