Safe

-4- A Jigsaw Puzzle

Holt Jacobs

There's no way in hell I'm pressing charges. I'm barely functioning knowing that other people know.

And I still don't know how I'm supposed to feel about Coach Mo knowing. Or about what he said. I'm still no closer to knowing who I can trust. And I'm not sure how I'm supposed to just trust some stranger.

But I don't really think I have a choice.

Actually I know I don't. Because I'm sitting in the empty lobby of the new therapist the Lincoln's want me to see. Mrs. Lincoln's beside me, typing away on her phone.

My hearts been pounding erratically in my chest since I climbed into Mrs. Lincoln's car to come here. The whole thought of this wasn't as scary until now. And as I watch the clock click down to the official time I can feel panic starting to claw its way through my body.

I'm trying not to fidget even though I feel like I can't breath and all I want to do is run. But against my best efforts, my leg starts to bounce and I quickly catch Mrs. Lincoln's attention.

"Holt?" She asks but my mind distorts her voice slightly and I jump. "It's okay honey."

I shake my head, it's not okay. I'm not okay.

"Holt, look at me."

I listen but only because I'm terrified if I don't she'll change her mind. They'll send me back.

"You're safe." She tells me.

I don't feel safe. I feel less safe now that I've told her than I did before. Like somehow he knows. Somehow he's going to show up and remind me that I'll never escape him. I'm just a kid. I'm just a runaway. I'm nothing.

My chest is on fire as I suck in a strangled breath. I don't want to talk to this therapist. I don't want more people to know.

"Holt, please talk to me." Mrs. Lincoln begs beside me.

I close my eyes but as soon as I do I realize how stupid it is. All I ever see is him when I do. So I open them back up and stand from the chair I've been sitting in because I can't stand it. I can't stand this.

"Holt?" Mrs. Lincoln starts to stand, stopping herself midway as I pace in front of her.

If he saw me right now, he'd drag me to the basement. The thought sends a chill racing down my spine and I drop back in the chair with a thud.

"Sorry." I murmur before adding. "Ma'am."

"You don't need to be sorry, just tell me what's the matter." She says gently.

I don't even know where to start.

When I don't say anything, she shifts in her chair so that she's facing me. I watch her out of the corner of my eye as I stare down at the navy blue carpet that covers the floor of the lobby.

"This isn't a punishment." She's already said that. "But I think it'll help if you take advantage of the opportunity."

The question that's been burning a hole inside of me forces its way out. "Do I have to tell them everything?"

I've seen enough therapists to figure out nothing happens if you don't say anything. I mastered that pretty quick.

"You can talk about whatever you want Holt." She says. "You just need to talk."

"But s-she knows, right? Like Coach Mo."

Mrs. Lincoln lets out a sigh and that's all I need for an answer.

"It must seem like we've told everyone, huh?" She asks but I don't reply. "We told your Coach because he's been worried about you. And we thought that maybe it would bring him some understanding."