Chapter three
Walker
I sat in the dimness of the room listening to Lottie's breathing. It hadn't settled into the deep rhythm of sleep. Instead, I could hear the rustle of sheets as she shifted position, the occasional sigh, the way her fingers picked at the edge of the blanket. Despite her exhaustion and the medication, sleep was eluding her. I glanced at the text from Doc. He'd seen the bruises all over her as well, most of them days old, and wanted to do more tests. He was particularly concerned with a rash of smaller ones on her abdomen she'd tried to cover up quickly.
"You still awake?" I asked softly.
A small noise of affirmation came from the bed. "I can't stop thinking," she whispered. "Every time I close my eyes, I feel their hands on me again."
My jaw tightened. I'd taken care of those men, but I couldn't erase what they'd done to her. The trauma was fresh, imprinted on her nervous system like a brand.
"Would you like me to turn on the light?" I asked. Some Littles were scared of the dark.
"No." Her voice was small. "But...could you maybe talk to me? About anything."
I moved my chair closer to the bed, close enough that she could see my outline in the faint light filtering through the curtains. "I could do better than that," I said. "If you trust me."
She hugged Mr. Snuggles closer. "What do you mean?"
"There are techniques," I explained, keeping my voice gentle. "Ways to help your mind and body reset after trauma. To help you get out of the loop of bad memories."
"Like therapy?"
"More immediate than that." I hesitated, not wanting to scare her. "It involves touch, but nothing inappropriate. Just sensory play to help ground you in the present moment."
She was quiet for so long I thought she might have fallen asleep after all. Then, so softly I almost missed it: "Okay."
"I need you to be sure, Lottie. You can say no."
"I trust you," she whispered. "Please help me."
I took a slow breath, centering myself. "I'm going to sit on the edge of the bed. Is that all right?"
When she nodded, I moved from the chair to perch beside her, careful to keep enough distance so she wouldn't feel trapped. "This is about safe touch," I explained. "About reminding your body that not all contact is threatening."
I reached for her hand slowly, telegraphing my movements. Her fingers were cold when they slipped into mine, trembling slightly.
"Close your eyes," I said. "I'm going to trace patterns on your palm. I want you to focus only on that sensation. If other thoughts come, just notice them and let them float away."
She closed her eyes, her lashes damp against her cheeks. I used my index finger to draw gentle circles on her palm, varying the pressure slightly, creating a rhythm she could follow.
"That's it," I murmured. "Just focus on my touch. Nothing else exists right now."
Her breathing began to slow, matching the rhythm of my movements. I watched her face relax as I continued drawing gentle circles on her palm, varying my touch from feather-light to slightly firmer pressure. Her breathing deepened, becoming more even.
"Good," I murmured. "Now I'm going to move to your wrist. Just keep focusing on the sensation."
I traced slow spirals around the delicate bones of her wrist, careful to keep my touch gentle but firm enough to ground her. The bruises forming on her pale skin made something protective and fierce rise in my chest. Those men had put their hands on her, had tried to take what wasn't theirs to take. The memory of finding her in that alley, terrified and cornered, made my jaw clench.
I forced myself to relax, knowing Lottie would sense any tension in my touch. This wasn't about my anger. This was about helping her find safety in her body again.
"How are you doing?" I asked softly.
"Better," she whispered, her voice drowsy. "It's...nice. Helps me stop thinking."
"That's the idea." I moved my attention to her forearm, using my fingertips to draw long, soothing lines from her wrist to her elbow and back again. "Your body needs to remember that touch can be safe. Gentle. Respectful."
She made a small sound, something between a sigh and a hum. Her body was sinking deeper into the mattress, the rigidity in her muscles finally beginning to release.
