POV: Desi Whitmore

The girl across from me wouldn't meet my eyes. She sat hunched in the chair, picking at her cuticles until they bled.

I recognized that posture. I'd worn it myself not so long ago.

"You don't have to tell me anything you're not ready to share," I said gently. "But I want you to know this is a safe space. Nothing you say leaves this room unless you're in danger."

"I'm not in danger." Her voice was barely a whisper.

"Okay. Then let's start with something easy. I'm Desi. ...