She woke that morning, gasping for air. The noises came back, razing her senses in a glorious cacophony, as she drew her knees to her chest to breathe in shuddering gulps.

Her clawed hands drew through thick red hair that draped over her shoulders in unruly tangles. Gangly limbs clutched to herself, and her eyes went wide, staring off into space with an internalized deep shame.

Tears pooled at the corners of her eyes as she shook.

Those sorts of dreams should be illegal.

COLD.

SHOWER.

NOW.

“Good morning, little one.” The voice said chipperly. She froze, and the sudden jarring complexity of the voice was more effective than any cold shower she could imagine.

“Oh… You’re still here.” Despite her gratefulness for the reprieve of sound, her anxiety coiled and peaked within herself. The thought of hearing things, things that weren’t there, made her situation that much worse.

“You sound excited about it,” the voice pouted.

What the hell? It’s sulking?

“You can’t like read my thoughts, can you?” Seneya focused her mind on some rather unpleasant imagery.

“No. Can you read mine? It’s a two-way street if that’s the case,” it said.

Seneya sighed in relief.

“Guessing it had something to do with that dream you had?”

Seneya froze still. “Get out of my head, please.”

Seneya screwed up her face as she squeezed her temples between her hands, cheeks going a stark crimson.

“I was only guessing because you woke up blushing… Feather’s sake, girl.”

Seneya froze in thought. ‘Feather’s sake?’ This isn’t something I’d think to say.

“Eh, figure of speech,” the voice said nonchalantly, becoming purposefully flippant all of a sudden.

Seneya looked about warily. “Can you see me… like all the time?”

“Generally, yes.”

“Even when I’m… you know, changing and stuff?” Seneya tensed, suddenly nervous.

“Yes,” it said with innocent honesty.

The heat in Seneya’s cheeks intensified. “Can you like… Not?”

“I generally don’t make a point to look, but I’m here all the time,” it said, suddenly reproachful and offended.

“In my room?”

“No. I’m in you, as I’ve said before,” it said, strained and frustrated.

Seneya went nervous and quiet, hands fidgeting. “Well, make a point of not looking, please.”

She went about her morning routine, resolute to ignore the voice as she made her way to the shower.

He liked to talk, she realized, even while sitting beneath the flow of the water, staring at the fiberglass walls of the stall, heat cascading over her pale, thin form. The tattoos over her back ached in dull throbs as they sometimes did. It happened more often when the weather changed.

She had one of those frames that suggested she should be toned and sturdily built, but nothing seemed plush or toned about her form. Her body looked stretched and thin, like she’d grown a lot in a short period, but her cheeks were sunken and dark circles welled under her eyes.

Her stomach ached with hunger.

Shampoo, conditioner, and a light scrub later, she dried off on a scratchy yellow towel.

A light jiggle emanated from the doorknob, halting her moment of peace.

“Someone’s in here!” she shouted reflexively, but she had been careful to lock the door before.

No response, no apology came, just another insistent jiggle. Seneya dressed quickly and waited, eying the toilet paper stand as a weapon for a few minutes before finally relaxing a little.

Nobody lingered in the hallway when she exited, padding down the worn runner and into a great room that led into a dining room and kitchen area.

The absence of anyone didn’t surprise her.

Silence and waiting often solved most of Seneya’s problems.

The floorplan of the house had an open concept, uncommon for its age. It made it harder to linger around corners and hide in wait.

Rhonda stirred about the kitchen with a cup of coffee.

She moved from one cabinet to the fridge, setting a jug of milk and a cereal box out for her.

“Morning, Mrs. Stone.” Seneya reached out to grab the fridge handle and was met with a stern glance.

“Up late last night?” Mrs. Stone’s lips twisted in disappointment and irritation.

Seneya’s hand wrapped around then pulled the fridge handle, eying the inside of the fridge for her preferred beverage, orange juice! Half of a carton greeted her, fresh and pulpy. Her stomach ached for it.

“Not really. I couldn’t sleep, but I wasn’t up.” Seneya averted her eyes, not wanting to explain Preston’s intrusion or the voice that nagged in her mind.

“Well, do try to keep it down,” Mrs. Stone snapped.

“Not sure what you mean. I was in bed and quiet.” Seneya blinked wide and innocent eyes full of all the confusion she could muster. The look registered with Rhonda. The doubt faded to realization.

“Maybe it was Preston….”

Seneya glanced around nervously and pursed her lips. “Um, Mrs. Stone?”

She quirked a brow and waited for Seneya to speak.

“I don’t want to be a problem,” Seneya said, in a way that clearly stated that she was about to be one.

Rhonda gave her one of those genteel ‘hurry up I haven’t got all day’ looks.

“I’ve not exactly had a lot of experience around boys, and some of it’s been negative. Preston makes me a bit nervous when he wants to pal around with me. I’m not used to it, and it makes me scared,” Seneya chose her words carefully and cautiously.

Make it my problem, not his. Make it an opening to track concern.

Rhonda grew defensive in a flash, her posture stiffening. Her jawline steeled with a tilt of her head that begged her to carry on. Seneya dared not tell her about the offer of beer, the midnight intrusion, or the jiggle of the bathroom door.

“He’s harmless, and you’re overreacting!” The sudden snap told Seneya many things.

Seneya spent the better part of her life being observant and had cut a niche in her life that centered around not causing problems.

Preston was going to cause a problem.

As defensive as she was, Rhonda had inklings and was desperate for them to not be true. In the way of most parents, she went straight into defensive denial.

Seneya withdrew her complaint, apologizing lightly before pulling away and reaching into the fridge. Old linoleum creaked under her feet as she pulled a paper carton free and walked to a cabinet to get a glass. Rhonda had a cabinet full of plastic tumblers with the anti-slip coating on them that made Seneya feel like they were never fully clean. She poured the juice and felt drool pooling in her mouth as she anticipated the taste. Her stomach knotted and ached for sustenance.

“Get yourself some cereal, too.” Rhonda nudged her shoulder with sharp fingertips and a jangle of bracelets. They slid down over her wrists as she rolled her sleeves up to wash her hands in the sink. Seneya glanced over at Rhonda for a moment, gingerly scrubbing, her eyes now vacant. Seneya sighed. She knew that confused, bitter look, and it meant her welcome had worn out.

Rhonda dried her hands on a dingy towel by the sink and seemed to be trying to remember what she was doing, and spied the cereal once more.

Rhonda reached for the box and grasped it. Seneya stared at it with chagrin and watched as Rhonda shook it over a chipped bowl. She reached for milk, poured it, and kept her eyes on Seneya. The milk bathed over something colorful and fruity that made her stomach clench and acid rise in the back of her throat. The smell alone filled her nostrils, overpowering and unwelcome.

“I’m not hungry.” Seneya took a step back, but Rhonda gave her that ‘you’re going to eat it and like it’ look, part of their regular morning routine.

“Eat. You’re already too thin. They’re going to accuse me of starving you!”

Seneya sighed miserably. She’d been through this routine so many times.

“Why are you even still here, child? Don’t even think of eating that.” The voice whispered.

Seneya closed her eyes and shook her head to clear her thoughts for a second. Then, she politely took the bowl before sitting at the chrome and Formica table. She picked at a chipped spot of it, toying with the spoon before bringing a bite up to her mouth.

I’ll just move slowly until time for the bus.

“Stop that!” the voice said.

The flavor assaulted her tastebuds. Intense artificial fruit chemicals swam over her tongue with a sickening wave of sweetness. The crunch of it against her teeth sent an involuntary shudder through her. The milk, fresh as could be, tasted exactly like a wet dog smelled. Seneya gagged at the assemblage of offensive sensations. Then, as quickly as possible, she chewed and swallowed.

It sank like lead in her stomach, and the assault on her senses overwhelmed her until she powered through enough bites to please Rhonda and excuse herself to catch the bus. Seneya grabbed her bag off of a coat rack and shouldered it quickly before slipping outside.

The front yard consisted of mostly gravel and a few sad shrubs. The migrating California summers that crept their way into Oregon leeched the life from the earth there. Thin pavers shifted under her gait as she walked to the end of the short drive.

“Hey, red,” A teasing voice called out. Seneya didn’t respond and kept on walking, increasing her pace. Finally, the bus crested a hill, wavering in the morning fog as it approached.

“How about you let me drive you to school today.”

“Thanks, Pres! I’d rather ride the bus if it’s all the same.” She waved her hand as she called back.

“He doesn’t look happy.” The voice in her head muttered.

“Nope.” Seneya bumped into one of the kids at the stop with a jarring halt. They didn’t know one another, but he gave her a strange look, and she backed off with a nervous chuckle.

She filed in line and scrambled up the steps, careful to avoid Preston’s gaze.

“That guy scares me,” Someone whispered.

“I know, right?” another said.

“Poor girl,” The boy she’d bumped into muttered.

Seneya avoided their gazes and kept to herself as the bus made its way towards her school.

She attended a new one this time—new teachers, new students. Every time they sent her to a new foster home, she knew she would be in another school. So she started the semester on the first day after the summer break, right after going to live with the Stones. It made her new transition much smoother.

She pulled her knees up to her chest and sank down into the seat. The cereal she ate curdled in her belly, sour and unwanted. She clutched her hands around her waist and tried to stave off the strange leaden sensation. Despite how full and heavy she felt with it, her stomach still ached with hunger.

“We have to get you out of here,” the voice cooed to her, like verbal fingers stroking over her head soothingly.

Seneya ignored the voice, but it kept speaking.

“If your mother could see this… see what they’ve done to you, Seneya….”

“Mother?” Seneya perked up, eyes wide.

“Oh, now I have your attention,” the voice chuckled with pride. “Maybe if we get you out of here, we can go find your family. You’re sick, and time is running out, you know?”

“Sick in the head.” Seneya huffed a breath. She rolled her eyes and cringed as the air brakes to the bus screeched to a halt. The bus pulled up to the school, throwing her into distress as she moved to avoid the chaos of kids around her. Avoiding them, she rushed into her first class, math.

“You know, these classes are always so strange. I guess it’s just new knowledge to add to the bank, you know?” The voice teased. Seneya shrugged. She could only shrug, nod, and occasionally hum in ascent or descent. Talking to herself in front of the other kids was not an option.

She felt so tired, weak, useless.

She had simple classes: math in the morning, then English before lunch. They read Edgar Allen Poe and picked apart the lines of it in some psychological analysis.

“Edgar was a good man, crazy, but good,” the voice muttered.

“Not even going to ask how you know that,” Seneya muttered in her lowest mumble beneath her breath.

“Miss Doe! Do you have something to share with the rest of the class?” Her teacher walked up to her desk. Her short thick legs clipped neatly across the floor, and she peered down at Seneya from thick spectacles. She narrowed her eyes and stared as a lock of brassy bottle-red hair fell over her face. She narrowed her newly crinkling eyes. Wrinkles that hadn’t been there months before started their gentle spread.

Seneya shot straight up in her chair with wide eyes.

“No, Miss!” Seneya sank back down in her chair as her teacher scowled down at her.

“Are you sure?” She raised an overplucked eyebrow.

“I was reading aloud to myself. I apologize.” Seneya said as the woman searched her face for an explanation. Kids around her whispered to one another and looked away.

“See to it that you keep your tone down, then.” Her teacher’s lip curled in irritation, and she clipped back up to the front of the class to continue. Seneya folded over her book and did her best to pay attention to the lecture.

After class, she made her way to the lockers with the flow of her peers.

She stowed her books in her locker and pulled out the ones for the next class after lunch. This new high school she enrolled in touted itself as one of the ‘fancier’ ones. Especially since it was in a better part of the county she had been passed around in. Some of the classrooms had dark industrial carpet, and the acoustic tiles were well-maintained. Every gleaming locker bore signs of regular cleaning and painting. She opened hers to view the undecorated sparse insides

Seneya was one of those package deals that came with a warning sticker on the back. As a rare case in the system, a model child in everything on paper: she went to class, made decent grades, and respected her elders and betters. She never reached that ‘rebellious’ phase, at least not yet. Nobody could quite put on paper anything negative. Yet still, every three to four months, they plucked her up and moved her to another home where they’d whisper quietly under their breath about her problems.

She recalled how it started, looks of care turning into annoyance over time. She began to see those signs with Rhonda, and it had only been a few weeks. She thought of Preston and Bryan before that and the near-misses before that. She remembered the simple friendship she’d had with Bryan, playing video games, and running to the corner store. She remembered easy laughs and familiarity but never a moment of romance, of love, or interest. The thought had never occurred to her.

The memory began to creep in on her, eyes unfocused as she stared into her locker.

-

A hand slipped roughly up her top, grazing over flesh it had no right to, the clutching hand over her mouth prying back.

She gasped to breathe, wanted to scream but could only do so into the mouth of her assailant as he moved his hand down to expose himself.

A flash of anger consumed her. A scream racked through her chest. She kicked, flailed, scratched, and didn’t stop until one of her bedposts cracked as Bryan’s body collided with it, then thudded to the floor, still exposed, the wood finial clattering in splinters beside him.

“I AM NOT YOURS!” Seneya screamed.

He started sobbing, crying out in pain.

There was blood.

She pulled herself back to the corner of her bed, drawing her shaking knees to herself, her bedclothes still tousled.

“Not yours… not yours,” She whimpered, her mouth drooling and mingling with the tears that liberally trailed her cheeks.

Adults rushed in, and everything became a blur

“He was just confused.” They had pleaded with her.

“You led him on.” Those words had come from her foster mother at the time.

“You could have just told him no!” the officer had told her.

Hands on her body, a body that wasn’t his to take. The sight of his manhood, one that she had no right to see. She felt defiled, broken, threatened in a way that she couldn’t define. She spent the next few days bundled to herself in tears.

They told Seneya that she was lucky they weren’t going to press charges.

She’d been in three homes since then, labeled as ‘dangerous’ by only word of mouth. So when Preston finally made his move, she didn’t know how she’d react. She’d never been violent in her life before that, but the thought of being touched… It sent a rage through her, and as time went on, it got worse and worse.

She slammed the locker door, silencing the memory.

“What’s on your mind, little one?” The voice seemed concerned.

“Boys.”