I read the words in my mind. And the figure is there in the room with me. As if his hand is on my shoulder. He means well for me; he wants to support me, but his presence is terrifying. I don’t move or make a sound. My heartbeat pounds in my ears and my ragged breath fills my head as I struggle to listen.

Even before a word is on my tongue…

Why do you run, child? Why do you hide? he asks me. I don’t want what I wanted; I don’t want what I chose, I tell him.