Suddenly, John’s phone beeped. He reached for it and began to text someone back.

“By the way, don’t forget that my parents are coming for dinner,” he said as he looked up at her.

Tara nodded. She almost forgot that they were coming that night, and she spun around to the fridge and began rummaging through it, making sure she had all the ingredients for dinner. She was looking forward to them coming—after all, being closer to them was partially why they moved—but she still always felt this need to impress them, and she knew why. It was her deepest desire to have a family, after losing hers so young, and John’s parents treated her like their own daughter.

But even though they had a great relationship, there was an anxiety that would bubble up in her at times. She knew it was because of her mother’s murder and her father’s imprisonment. It had taken years of therapy for her to understand that it had completely disrupted her sense of security. Yes, she had her grandmother who took her in after, but the damage was done. She had learned too early how fleeting life can be, and as she grew older, that perspective trickled into all aspects of her life, including her relationships—a fear that it was only temporary.

“How did you sleep, by the way?” John suddenly asked, as he looked up at her.

He was referring to the nightmares. It was a question he had been asking less and less, but it was odd that of all days, he asked it today. Did he sense she was hiding something?

“I slept well last night…I still haven’t had one,” she replied as she closed the fridge.

It was a lie, but telling the truth would only mean that she would have to talk about it, and that was not something she was willing to do, at least not now.

John nodded and directed his attention back to his phone. He hadn’t noticed. Tara was sure of it now, because he would never let it go that easily if he knew.

But she was also aware that it was only a matter of time before he would find out. They were going to keep reoccurring because she didn’t know why she was having them. Her therapist had concluded that it was due to survivor’s guilt—something Tara learned was very common—and it had taken a lot of therapy to remind herself that she was just a child, that it was unfair to blame herself. Hiding in the closet was what any child would’ve done.

Once she overcame the guilt, the nightmares stopped. But now, Tara knew that it wasn’t the root of the problem. It was just the surface of something much deeper.

Tara’s phone interrupted her train of thought as it vibrated on the counter. She picked it up. It was a text from her boss.

MEET AT HQ ASAP

Tara’s heart thumped against her chest. Her boss had never texted her before, and she knew it could only mean one thing—that there was a new case, one she could possibly be assigned.