"I need you to sign this consent form," Dr. Lacroix said calmly, handing the document to the Monteverde couple.
Romos took it, frowning as he scanned the contents. "Why is this necessary?"
"Vee told me about her dreams," Dr. Jean replied, his expression neutral but serious. "Before I can fully determine where these nightmares are coming from, I need to rule out something. I'll admit, this will be an invasive physical examination. But it's necessary."
Cielo looked up, her voice cautious. "She's legal now… Did she agree to this?"
"She did," the doctor confirmed.
Romos and Cielo exchanged a brief, heavy look, years of shared grief and parental instinct speaking in silence, before Romos signed the paper and returned it.
"Whatever we need to do, just tell us," he said firmly.
Dr. Jean nodded. "It won't take long. Once I receive the test results, I'll speak with you again."
Moments later, a young female doctor approached them. She introduced herself as Dr. Stella and explained the procedures she would be conducting for Evadne's physical exam. She was thorough but reassuring.
"I promise, she will not be hurt," she said with a soft smile.
An hour later, Dr. Jean sat in his office, reading the test results, brows furrowed, lips pressed in a thin line. Confusion was etched across his face just as the Monteverdes entered the clinic once again.
This time, only the two of them. Evadne had excused herself to get some air in the hospital's garden.
"Jean?" Romos asked, worry tightening his voice. "Is there a problem?"
Dr. Jean looked up, hesitated for a beat, then asked, "Did Vee ever tell you what exactly happens in her nightmares?"
The couple exchanged a look before Cielo slowly shook her head. "No… We were afraid to ask," she said, her voice already cracking. "We didn't want to trigger her. But from what we've seen… it seems like she's being tortured. Or abused. She cries out for help every night."
Dr. Jean let out a long breath and leaned back.
"In her dreams… she's being raped. Repeatedly. By multiple men."
The words landed like a bomb.
Cielo gasped, eyes wide in disbelief, her hand flying to her mouth as tears spilled down her cheeks.
Romos's entire body stiffened, fists clenched so tightly his knuckles turned white. Rage clouded his expression as if someone had dared to lay hands on his daughter.
"Please, calm down," Dr. Jean urged gently, raising a hand. "I understand your reaction, but let me be clear, I can assure you, there is no evidence that it ever actually happened."
He paused, then added, "That's exactly why I requested the thorough exam. To rule out any real-life trauma as the cause of her dreams."
He slid a report across the desk.
"According to the results, Vee's hymen is intact. She is still a virgin. Her bloodwork is also clean, no signs of recreational drugs, no substances that could induce hallucinatory episodes."
Romos released a shaky breath, the tension in his jaw slightly easing. The mere thought of something terrible happening to their daughter was unbearable.
Cielo wiped her eyes quickly, nodding faintly.
"You told me the nightmares began after her eighteenth birthday?" Dr. Jean asked.
They both nodded.
"Did she drink that night?"
"Yes," Cielo replied. "Sometimes I let her and her friends drink a little at home during sleepovers. Supervised, of course. She's had whiskey before, Romos's stash, but she never reacted like this."
Dr. Jean leaned forward, clasping his hands. "I'll be honest with you… I'm at a dead end. Medically and scientifically, Vee should be fine. Her medications have been consistent. She has no physical trauma. But these visions, these nightmares… they're too vivid, too specific."
He hesitated, then added, "There's someone I'd like to refer you to. A colleague of mine. She specializes in breakthrough psychiatric cases, especially ones like Vee's, where conventional medicine fails. I'll admit, her methods are… unorthodox. Some say strange."
Romos didn't even pause. "No matter how strange, Jean, as long as she can help our daughter, we'll take it. We'll take anything."
His voice trembled, just barely, but enough to betray the pain beneath his calm exterior. "We can't bear seeing her like this."
"Unfortunately… she lives in New York now," Dr. Jean said carefully. He knew too well that New York was a tender wound for the Monteverde couple, a place haunted by grief and painful memories.
Cielo straightened in her seat, voice steady. "No matter where she is, we'll go."
Dr. Jean smiled faintly at her determination.
"I'll make the call," he promised. "But Vee's case may take time. You might have to stay in New York for a while. I would also recommend transferring her to a school there, at least temporarily."
The couple nodded without hesitation. After a few more exchanges and medical instructions, they thanked the doctor and stepped out.
On the way out of the hospital, they passed through the garden, where Evadne waited.
She was sitting quietly on a swing bench beneath a flowering trellis, eyes closed, hands folded neatly over a book on her lap. She looked serene, too serene, as if trying to anchor herself in stillness to keep from breaking apart.
But the moment they approached, her eyes opened, sharp and alert.
"Are we done here?" she asked softly, her tone unreadable.
"Yes, hon. We can leave now," Romos replied, forcing a smile and reaching out his hand to help her up.
Inside the car, Cielo turned from the front passenger seat to glance back at her daughter, who was quietly flipping through the pages of a novel.
"Sweetheart… we might have to go and stay in New York for a while," Cielo said carefully. "There's another doctor Dr. Lacroix recommended, someone who might be able to help with the nightmares."
"Okay," Evadne replied without looking up from her book.
"And you may need to transfer schools while we're there," Romos added gently.
"That's alright, Mommy. Daddy," she said, her voice flat but polite. "Whatever needs to be done."
Her tone was calm, too calm. Detached.
Cielo frowned slightly, unable to ignore the growing weight in her chest. She had noticed the change, slowly creeping in… but now, it was undeniable.
And she had to ask.
"Did you have a falling out with Marie and the others, hon?" she asked carefully.
Evadne paused, her fingers resting between the pages of her book. She exhaled slowly, as if choosing her words.
She knew she couldn't tell her mother the full truth, that she could hear their thoughts, that their friendship had always been built on lies. So she told a half-truth instead.
"Marie's mad at me," she said finally. "She thinks I'm the reason Claude broke up with her."
Cielo blinked. "I thought you sorted that out already?"
"I thought so too," Evadne said, staring out the window now. "But I guess not. The others are taking her side."
Romos's jaw tightened. "It's not your fault, hon. And if they can't understand that, then maybe it's for the best. You don't need that kind of negativity in your life. You need to protect your peace of mind."
"Don't worry, hon," Cielo added gently. "You'll meet new people in New York. And you don't need a lot of friends, just one or two who are genuine is more than enough."
"Would it be okay with you if we leave within the week?" Romos asked, glancing at her in the rearview mirror. "I'll delegate the business here, and once everything's in place, we'll fly to New York. But if there's anything you want to do first, like meet with your other peers, we can extend our stay."
"It's fine, Dad," Evadne replied with a soft smile. "The sooner we go, the better. I want the nightmares to stop. I know it hurts you both every time they come."
"Hon…" Cielo reached her hand behind the seat to hold Evadne's. "Don't think about us. Your daddy and I, we're only thinking about you. We want our bubbly Vee back. We'll do everything, spend every fortune we have, just to see you smile again, okay?"
Tears pricked at the corners of Evadne's eyes.
Since the morning she woke up with this strange curse, this ability to hear the thoughts of everyone around her, her parents' minds were the only sanctuary she had. They were the only voices she welcomed. Because unlike everyone else, their thoughts matched their words. There was no deception, no resentment, no hidden judgment. Only love.
They loved her in action.
They loved her in words.
And most of all, they loved her in thought.
That's why she had been so cooperative. Why she agreed to every test, every consultation. She wanted to get better, not just for herself, but for them. Because she knew how much it tore them apart, seeing her like this. Hearing her scream in the middle of the night. Watching her fade day by day.
If only the only change she had experienced was being able to hear other people's thoughts, she might have taken it lightly. After all, she discovered that when she listened to music or read books, the voices faded into whispers. Distant. Manageable. Like static in the background.
But the nightmares… they were something else entirely.
A whole different realm of suffering.
She knew dreams weren't supposed to be that vivid. Most people barely remembered their dreams after waking up. But her nightmares came with terrifying clarity. Every detail. Every word. Every face.
She could remember everything.
The faces of people who mocked her. Laughed at her. Hurt her. Violated her.
And every morning, when she opened her eyes, she couldn't help but look at the people around her with suspicion. With quiet dread.
Even her parents.
Because sometimes… she needed to make sure.
To see if the loving Cielo and Romos Monteverde, her light, her only anchors, were still the same people in the waking world. Not the twisted, cruel versions of them that haunted her in sleep.
Because in her dreams, they were monsters.
They hated her. They mocked her pain. They turned a blind eye to her suffering. They didn't love her.
And Evadne didn't know what she would do, what she would become, if one day she woke up and realized the nightmare versions of her parents were the real ones all along.
She could endure the abuse in her dreams.
She could survive the screaming, the humiliation, even the pain.
But losing the love of Cielo and Romos?
That would break her far more than any torture ever could.