"And who's this little cutie?" Doctor Ross smiled down at the beautiful little boy with blonde hair and big blue eyes. He blushed and hid behind his mother as they entered the room and took a seat.

"This is Jackson. Jackson, say hello to the nice lady," his mother smiled down at him, taking him by the arm and pulling out from out behind her.

Jackson said nothing, keeping his head down and looking at the floor.

"Hi, Jackson. You have very beautiful eyes, but I can't see them if you're looking down at the floor, now can I?"

Jackson slowly looked up the lady in white. Her hair was long and was tied back in a ponytail. Her eyes were gentle and kind, so he kept his head up and watched as she moved throughout the room.

"I'd llike to ask you a couple of questions if that's okay. You don't mind?" Dr. Ross took out an exercise and took a seat across from the Whittemores. "It's mandatory, and these questions will go on file."

Mr. Whittemore cleared his throat and nodded. "Of course. Anything."

Ross smiled. "Good. Now let's start off with this. It says here that Jackson isn't...yours?"

Linda Whittemore shook her head. "I'm unable to carry, so Jeff and I decided to adopt. Are you sure we should be talking about this in front of our son?"

The three of them turned their heads to see Jackson hunched over a piece of paper and crayons at a kiddie desk, drawing away and paying the least amount of attention to them. He looked deep in concentration, his brow furrowed and his little fist clenched the red crayon.

"I don't think he seems to notice. Moving on?" Ross flipped through some papers. "It says he was found with several bruises and cuts. Can you tell me what happened? Child abuse?"

Jeff rubbed his forehead and shrugged. "I don't know. When Linda and I took him in, he refused to talk. In fact, he still doesn't talk. The only time he talks is when he wants something to eat or drink, but other than that, he's silent."

Ross scribbled something down on a scrap of paper. "Okay. We're getting somewhere. How is he sleeping? Out like a light? Restless?"

Linda turned pale as she glanced at her husband. "A few times we woke up to hear him...to hear him screaming."

Ross stopped writing. "Screaming?"

"Yes. He'd be screaming and sobbing in the corner of his room. You could just see the-" Linda's voice broke as she thought about all those awful nights she and Jeff rushed out of the bedroom and into Jackson's, only to see the small boy huddled up in the corner of his room with tears streaking down his face and his hands scratching at the cuts on his skin.

"The fear in his eyes. Whatever he went through before was obviously tramatic. We're lost, Doctor Ross. We don't want him to grow up like this," Jeff took his wife's hand and gave it a squeeze.

Ross nodded. "It's not a problem. I'll do everything in my power to help your son get over his past." She set her clipboard down and smiled. "Would you mind if I had a word with Jackson? I just want to get to know him. He'll open up to me more if he feels he can trust me."

"Of course. Anything. Come on, Linda." Jeff and Linda got to their feet and turned to face Jackson. "Jackson? Mommy and I will be right outside, okay? This nice lady wants to talk to you and help you color your picture." Jeff smiled faintly before leaving the room, with Linda close behind.

Jackson watched them leave, his eyes slowly shifting over to the doctor as she took a seat next to him. He lowered his head, beginning to draw again.

"Hi, Jackson. I think I'll draw too. Can I have the blue please?" Ross took out a sheet of paper and watched with a smile as Jackson slowly slid the crayon over across the table to her, his head still down. "Thank you. Now what should I draw? How about a fish?"

Jackson glanced at her paper for a second before looking back down at his own drawing quickly. He scribbled something in the corner before grabbing the orange crayon and scribbling again.

"There. Here's my fish. Do you like it?" Ross held up her paper and showed it to him, but Jackson never looked up. "What are you drawing? I see lots of yellow and orange and...red."

Jackson shrugged and sighed heavily. He placed the orange down and looked over his drawing before looking directly into her eyes. Ross almost dropped her paper as she saw the pain and fear in his bright blue eyes. She thought about what the boy must've went through before his adoptive parents took him in. Was it so terrible that he refused to talk about it? Or talk at all?

"Can I see your drawing, Jackson? It looks lovely..." As she took the paper from him, her heart stopped as she saw what the picture was. A house was on fire, and from what she could see, there were what looked like people in a room, their faces, drawn by a child's hand but still noticeable, filled with fear and pain. Much like Jackson's eyes. The yellow and orange were the flames that surrounded the room, and the red was...blood.

"Jackson? What is this? What happened here?" Ross frantically grabbed a pen and wrote something down on paper. "Can you tell me what this is?"

Jackson's breathing quickened and he began to shake his head, covering his ears.

"Jackson, please! Why did you draw this? What happened in this fire?"

"FIRE!" Jackson's tiny voice screamed. "FIRE! FIRE! FIRE!" He knocked over the table as he shot up from his seat and ran to the corner of the room. "HELP ME! IT HURTS! MOMMY! DADDY! IT HURTS!"

The door opened with a loud slam and Linda and Jeff rushed in, eyes wide as they saw their screaming son on the floor with his hands over his ears.

"What did you do to him?" Linda rushed over to Jackson and held him tightly in her arms.

"Nothing! I asked him what the...this meant to him." Ross held up the picture, and Jackson's father took it from her hands, staring at the image like the flames on the paper were about to become real and burn his hand any second.

"What is this?" He asked. "Is this some sort of sick joke?"

"No. Jackson was drawing it while I was talking to you and finished just after you left. A memory of his past life, perhaps?"

"I don't care what it is. I don't want him remembering something as tragic as people dying in a fire." Linda covered Jackson's ears and lowered her voice. "Do you think his biological parents died in that fire?"

Ross shrugged. "I don't know. And we may never know, if he doesn't talk. I can help him remember-"

"No. Make him forget. Do you realize that he'll be beyond damaged if we let him stay like this? I will not allow my son to grow up like this!"

Ross glanced down at Jackson, who was still sobbing, but he had stopped screaming as soon as Linda gathered him in her arms and was gently singing to him. "Fine. I'll help him forget. But it won't be easy..."

"We have money. We'll pay your price," Jeff picked Jackson up in his arms and held him tightly. "Here's my number. I'll call you tomorrow to schedule an appointment for Jackson."

Ross took the card, looking at it before looking back up at the boy in his arms. Jackson looked tired and exhausted, his eyes red from crying and his breath shaky as a couple remaining sobs escaped his chest. "Mr. Whittemore...I can make him forget, but who's to say that it won't all come rushing back to him one day? It can cause multiple relapses, and he could become a danger to himself..."

Jeff glared at her. "Well then. I guess we'll have to make sure that doesn't happen, right?" He slammed the door behind him, causing a gust of wind to blow the drawing of the house on fire off the table, and onto the floor.