Elias's car slowed to a stop outside the office building, and I stared at the sleek, professional exterior through the window. My fingers curled into the fabric of my jeans, the weight of the upcoming conversation pressing down on my chest.
"You okay?" Elias's voice broke through the silence. His tone was softer now, careful, as though he knew the wrong words might make me bolt.
I nodded, though I didn't believe my own answer. "I'll be fine."
Elias didn't push. He never did. "Remember, this is your choice, Raven. You don't have to say anything you don't want to."
I nodded again, inhaling deeply as I opened the door. "Let's get this over with."
The walk to Mr. Farrow's office felt heavy. My feet dragged as if they knew where I was going and wanted to turn back. Elias walked a half-step behind me, quiet but present. By the time we reached the door, I wasn't sure I could go through with it.
Mr. Farrow stood as we entered, his calm, steady presence immediately grounding the tension in my chest. "Raven. Elias." He gestured to the chairs across from his desk. "Please, have a seat."
Elias gave him a brief nod and held the chair for me before settling into the one beside mine.
"Before we begin, I want you to know this is a safe space," Mr. Farrow said, folding his hands on the desk. "You're in control of what we discuss today, and there's no pressure to share more than you're comfortable with."
The word "safe" felt foreign, almost absurd. My jaw tightened as I stared down at my hands, my nails digging into my palms.
Mr. Farrow glanced at Elias, who leaned forward slightly. "I'll be right outside," Elias said gently, his hand brushing my shoulder briefly before he stood and left the room.
The sound of the door closing felt too loud, and the silence that followed was deafening.
"Take your time," Mr. Farrow said, his tone even.
I swallowed hard, my fingers trembling slightly. "I… I don't know where to start," I admitted.
"That's okay," he said. "Why don't we start with why you're here? What's made you consider taking this step?"
I hesitated, my thoughts tangling together in a chaotic knot. "It's… complicated," I muttered.
"I understand. Complicated is often the right word for situations like this," Mr. Farrow replied. "Can I ask—has your stepfather ever harmed you physically? Or emotionally?"
I froze, my breath catching. The room seemed smaller now, the air thicker. The memories hovered just beyond reach, flashes of moments I'd buried deep.
"I don't…" My voice cracked, and I shook my head. "I don't remember. Not all of it."
Mr. Farrow didn't react, his expression calm and patient. "That's normal, Raven. The brain often protects us from memories that are too painful to process all at once."
I swallowed again, my hands gripping the edge of my seat. "I was… younger," I whispered. "He—he used to… I don't know." The words twisted in my throat, refusing to come out. "It's all blurry. I just know it happened."
"That's enough for now," Mr. Farrow said gently. "We don't need every detail. What matters is how you feel about it now. Do you feel unsafe around him?"
I nodded quickly, tears stinging my eyes. "He doesn't… do that anymore. Not like before. But he—he touches me when no one's around. Says things." My voice shook as I added, "Threatened me. If I ever told anyone, and I believed him."
"Thank you for sharing that, Raven," Mr. Farrow said. "I know how hard that must've been."
I shook my head, my voice trembling. "My mother refuses to believe me. She always said that I was lying. That I'm just trying to ruin her family."
Mr. Farrow's brow furrowed slightly, but his voice remained calm. "That's not uncommon in cases like this. It's difficult for some people to confront the truth, especially when it disrupts their reality."
I laughed bitterly, the sound sharp and cold. "Disrupts her reality? She's living with a monster, and she doesn't care."
"That must feel incredibly isolating," Mr. Farrow said.
"It is," I whispered, my voice cracking again.
We sat in silence for a moment before he continued. "Legally, these cases are challenging without physical evidence, but they're not impossible. If you decide to move forward, we'd look at testimonies, psychological evaluations, and anything else that could support your story. It's about building a narrative that helps others understand what you've been through."
I shook my head. "There's no one who'll believe me. My mother won't, my siblings are too young, and I've spent my whole life hiding it. There's no proof. Nothing."
Mr. Farrow leaned forward slightly, his voice steady. "Your story is proof, Raven. Your courage to speak up is proof. And while it may not feel like enough right now, it's a start. We don't have to build the entire case today. This is about taking the first step."
I looked away, tears slipping down my cheeks. "If I do this, he'll be taken away. My mother will hate me. My siblings will hate me. I'll destroy what's left of their family."
Mr. Farrow's voice softened. "Raven, what your stepfather has done is not your fault. If he's taken from your family, it's because of his actions, not yours."
"But it feels like my fault," I said, my voice breaking. "I've been protecting them my whole life. If I do this, I'm the one tearing it all apart."
"You've been carrying a weight that no one should have to bear," Mr. Farrow said gently. "But protecting them doesn't mean sacrificing yourself. You deserve safety, Raven. You deserve peace."
I buried my face in my hands, sobs shaking my shoulders.
The door opened quietly, and I heard Elias's footsteps before I felt his hand on my back. "Hey," he murmured, his voice soft and soothing.
I couldn't respond as the words were caught up in my throat.
Mr. Farrow cleared his throat. "Raven, I'm here to help you, no matter what you decide. Take your time. There's no rush."
Elias knelt beside me, his hand still resting on my back. "We've got you," he said quietly. "You don't have to do this alone."
And I let myself believe him—just a little.
I hadn't moved since Elias sat next to me. His hand stayed on my back, warm and steady, while I sat curled in on myself. It was like every word Mr. Farrow had said replayed in my mind, but they were jumbled now—louder, harsher, twisted into something accusatory.
He'll be taken away. My siblings will hate me. My mother will hate me.
Elias shifted beside me, his voice low and hesitant, like he wasn't sure if he was allowed to speak. "Raven… You don't have to make a decision right now."
"I can't do it," I muttered, shaking my head. "I just… I can't."
"You don't have to," Elias said, his tone soft but firm. "But you don't have to keep carrying this alone, either. You deserve—"
"Stop saying that!" I snapped, my voice sharper than I intended. I shot up from my chair, pacing to the far corner of the room. My hands clenched and unclenched at my sides, nails biting into my palms.
The room went quiet except for the sound of my ragged breaths. I turned to face them both, my throat tight. "I don't deserve anything. Don't you get it? I let this happen. I let him…" My voice faltered. "I just stood there. Every time. I stood there."
Elias stood slowly, his movements careful, like I was something fragile about to shatter. His voice was low, steady. "He's the one who did this to you, Raven. Not you."
My laugh was bitter, hollow. "Then why does it feel like I'm the one destroying everything? If I do this… if I say something, my mother will lose him. James and Lily will lose their dad. Their whole world will fall apart." My voice cracked. "And it'll be my fault."
Mr. Farrow leaned forward slightly, his voice calm but pointed. "Your siblings' safety and well-being are important, but so is yours. You're not responsible for holding the family together, especially when that means sacrificing your own safety."
I hugged myself, trying to keep the emotions from spilling out again. "But they'll hate me," I whispered.
"They won't," Elias said, his voice softer now, but still carrying that quiet conviction that he always seemed to have. "They're kids, Raven. They might not understand everything right away, but one day, they will. One day, they'll realize you did this for them, too."
The weight of his words sank into me, heavy and suffocating. I sat back down, my legs trembling too much to hold me up any longer. "I don't even remember all of it," I murmured, barely audible. "It's just flashes—pieces that don't make sense. How can I even talk about it when I can't remember everything?"
Mr. Farrow nodded, his expression unchanged. "That's normal, Raven. Trauma has a way of fragmenting our memories, but that doesn't mean your experience isn't valid. Your story matters, whether it comes in pieces or as a whole. We can work through it together, slowly, if that's what you choose."
I pressed my fingers to my temples, my head throbbing. "And if I don't choose to?"
There was a pause before Mr. Farrow answered. "Then nothing changes. He stays where he is, and so do you. That's the reality. But…" He leaned forward, his tone steady but gentle. "Ask yourself—can you keep living like this?"
The question hit me harder than I expected. My nails dug into my palms again, the sting grounding me.
"Raven," Elias said softly, pulling my attention back to him. His blue eyes held that same glint of determination I'd seen the first day we met, and it made something in my chest ache. "You don't have to decide right now. You don't even have to decide tomorrow. But if you do want to fight this—if you want to take back some of the control he stole from you—you have people in your corner. Me. Mr. Farrow. We've got you."
My throat tightened, and I looked away, unable to meet his gaze any longer.
Mr. Farrow shifted in his chair. "If you decide to move forward, the first step would be to gather evidence. Without it, it's difficult to build a case. You mentioned that the assaults have continued recently—has there been any communication? Messages, voicemails, or anything like that?"
I shook my head, my voice barely a whisper. "He's too careful."
"Are there any witnesses?" he asked. "Anyone who might've noticed something out of place, even if they didn't fully understand what they were seeing?"
For a moment, my mind drifted to Sophie. She'd been at my house so many times over the years—had she ever noticed something? But the thought of telling her, of trying to explain, made my stomach twist. "No," I said quickly.
Mr. Farrow nodded, not pressing the point. "In that case, we'd look at other avenues. A psychological evaluation could help establish a history of trauma. If you're willing, we could also work with a specialist to help recover some of those fragmented memories. But none of this is mandatory, Raven. The decision is always yours."
The idea of digging deeper into my own mind—of dragging up the things I'd spent so long trying to forget—made my chest tighten. But the alternative was worse, wasn't it? Staying silent. Letting him win.
"I need time," I said finally, my voice trembling.
"Of course," Mr. Farrow said. "Take as much time as you need. This door will always be open to you."
I nodded, standing shakily. Elias moved to my side immediately, his hand brushing against my arm.
"You ready to go?" he asked softly.
I nodded again, unable to find the words to speak.
We walked out together, the air outside cooler and sharper than I'd expected. I took a deep breath, trying to steady myself.
Elias opened the passenger door for me, and as I slid in, I noticed the way his jaw tightened, like he was holding something back.
"What?" I asked, my voice still hoarse.
He hesitated, then said, "I'm just proud of you, that's all."
"For what?" I asked bitterly. "I didn't do anything."
"You showed up," Elias said simply, his gaze steady. "That's more than most people would've done."
I didn't argue. Instead, I leaned back in my seat, staring out the window as he started the car.