Author Note:

This was a tough write. Please read with care: graphic description of physical and emotional abuse of a minor.

Chapter 14: Monsters, Rearing their Ugly Heads

"But you said she could stay," Callie's protested when it was suggested Stef take a break from the session. Fully understanding that it wasn't a request, the girl nervously looked down into her lap. "I want you to stay," she insisted, quieter this time. Even though only half an hour had elapsed, the assessment had left her feeling drained and she definitely did not want to be left alone with someone she didn't know who was so skilled at drawing answers out of her.

Hearing the alarm in Callie's voice, Stef crouched down and gave her daughter's knee a squeeze. "It'll be alright, sweetheart. You're doing great," she reassured, as Callie looked at her pleadingly like a lamb being sent to slaughter. "I'll be right outside in the waiting room where we were sitting before."

"Tell you what. Let's reevaluate in fifteen minutes," Dr. Wiseman stepped in, hoping the compromise would alleviate Callie's nervousness. "I want to make sure we have time together to go over the family activity. If you'd still like Stef to be here, we can invite her back in."

"I've had too much coffee today and need the bathroom, anyway," Stef said, standing up and giving the teen a peck on the forehead before she could argue again. "You're going to do just fine."

"What's the very first thing that comes to mind when you look at these columns?" the psychologist asked a little while after Stef had left the room.

"Redundancy," Callie mumbled petulantly, put off that Stef refused to stay even after she had mustered up the courage to ask. It had been the second time that morning that the cop had readily dismissed her, the first instance taking place when Callie pleaded not to go to the appointment. She should've known better.

"Fair enough. Anything else someone might notice when looking at this for the first time?"

The girl fumed at how difficult she was finding it to ignore the woman. "I guess a lot of the words are in the middle," she finally offered, worried that if she didn't say anything that Stef and Lena would accuse her of not trying.

"Nearly all the cards are in the column that represent your parents, Stef, and Lena," Dr. Wiseman agreed, pointing out certain words. "You described all of them as being loving, trustworthy, affectionate, rational. Can you read out some of the other qualities they share that you value?"

"Uhm, okay." The teen hesitated, still not understanding the rationale behind the activity. "Caring…reliable…fair, I guess. Protective, and forgiving, and warm."

"Loving." The word caught in her throat. Never before had she described any foster parent as being loving—not once. Until Stef and Lena, that is. She felt it through the little, every day things both women did. Taking the time to find out their favourite things to eat and adding it to the weekly rotation. Straightening her comforter and saying goodnight every night. The extra towel left on the bathroom door for her hair when she remembered to take only one. The time Stef noticed her discomfort from her pullover's itchy tag and cut it off for her while she remained still, anxious of getting nicked.

Dr. Wiseman paused, directing her own attention to the differences to steer the conversation further with the teen. "What were some qualities you decided were unique to your parents?"

Not five minutes had passed since Stef had left and Callie was already glancing at the clock, wishing the session would end. "Easygoing. Lighthearted. Permissive. Lenient," she read out robotically.

"It sounds like you think your foster Moms are more authoritative than your Mom and Dad were. Some of the words you placed in their column were demanding, strict, controlling, and harsh. I also see you described them as being unfair sometimes. That must be a pretty big adjustment, Callie."

"Yeah," the girl conceded, refusing to meet the doctor's gaze. "I guess so."

"What makes them controlling?" Dr. Wiseman asked casually as Callie looked up, nervousness apparent on her face.

The girl shrugged reflexively, putting her hands into her pockets. "Stef's like a dictator. She's always on my case," she muttered.

"How so?"

"It's annoying. She always wants to know what I'm doing and with who, where I want to go, and wants me to do everything her way otherwise she gets mad and yells. But if anyone else argues and yells, then we get in trouble," the teen vented.

"Can I ask why it's upsetting that Stef has more expectations and rules for you than what you're used to?"

Suddenly, the initial satisfaction that Callie felt over being able to tattle on the cop gave way to dismay; she kicked herself internally for not following through with her resolve to stop giving Dr. Wiseman stuff to help continue her questioning. Surprised by the unexpected tears that clouded her vision, Callie felt her defences begin to crumble. "It's just not fair," she finally blurted, equal parts sulk and frustration.

The doctor smiled encouragingly at her as she thread the pencil into the clamp of the clipboard and set it down. "Go on, it's alright," she coaxed. Pushing her chair back from the table, she crossed one leg over the other and clasped her hands at her knee.

"They—they weren't there for us before! And Jude and I, we were fine holding our own. It feels like all of a sudden they're like barging in and wanting us to change everything and do what they say, and it's not fair."

"They didn't know what it was like," Callie mumbled.

"Ah, I see." Dr. Wiseman truly empathized with what she was hearing. It was a common thread that united many of the children and youth she saw in her practice who had relied for too long on themselves and had had the misfortune of being in the care of adults who didn't have their best interests at heart. "You don't think Stef and Lena have the right to tell you what to do because they weren't there for you before, when things were hard. I agree with you, Callie. One hundred percent. Someone you trusted should have been there to take care of you and your brother and make sure things would be okay."

"Lena tells me that you moved around quite a bit before their home; I imagine that would have been pretty chaotic for you and Jude. The independence you had over the other parts of your life probably helped give you a sense of control, even though you shouldn't have had to manage things on your own. So, I'd like to challenge you to ask yourself, what really bothers you more—that Stef and Lena weren't there, or that the adults who were there weren't doing what they should have been?"

The psychologist paused before continuing. "Now, for the first time in a long time, you have a stable home where you're cared for and the adults are able to give some direction. Your foster mothers tell me that your adoption is being processed! THAT—is—GREAT!" Dr. Wiseman said animatedly, causing a sheepish smile to appear on the teen's face. "But this means you've lost some say in how you go about your life, hasn't it?" she asked knowingly.

Callie's face immediately fell. "Yeah."

"I can see why that would feel unfair. Stef and Lena are a lot like your Mom and Dad, too, and that probably makes things a bit confusing," the woman ventured a guess, receiving a nearly imperceptible nod of agreement. Noticing the girl struggle to keep her tears at bay, she knew the end of the session was near. "I'm guessing that the similarities are comforting but the differences make it hard—they remind you that your Mom and Dad aren't here."

Trying hard not to lose her composure, Callie stared at the opposing wall, focusing on the motivational posters that annoyed her to no end. The worst offender of all was a poster of an elephant with the caption, No matter how far you have traveled in the wrong direction, you can always turn around.

"Can we be done now?" Callie blurted in frustration, standing quickly before the woman could think to say anything else. For sure, if Stef were present, she knew the cop wouldn't let her go so easily with what she had just said. But it was hard to care at this point. Dr. Wiseman's words broke her as though she were cheap porcelain.

"Tell you what, Callie. We're done for today. Great work. Can you go find Stef and let her know I just need her for the last half hour? There are some snacks in the back room you can help yourself to while you wait for us to finish up."

"My impression is that there are more than a few things going on. The most obvious is the trauma from being separated from her parents at a young age and the abuse and neglect she experienced in at least some of her placements. The talking back, impulsivity, mistrust, and deliberate disobedience that Lena described all stem from that; most of these things were likely learned to protect herself from both physical and emotional harm. Remind me when Callie entered foster care?"

"Oh, geez." The cop paused to do the quick mental calculation. "She was eight. Her birthday was a couple months after."

"Right, I remember your wife mentioning that now. The fact that Callie entered foster care as a preteen is also significant." Noticing Stef fight back tears, Dr. Wiseman handed over the tissue box.

"Thank you. Excuse me," Stef whispered brokenly. Her career had left her all too familiar with cases of child endangerment and mistreatment. Rarely had she lost her composure when dealing with children who were apprehended; however, it was altogether a different story now that it was Callie—someone she was building both an attachment to and a history with.

"Transitioning into adolescence is difficult for any child, even in healthy, supportive environments. Most people regard it as physical development but it's as much about emotional growth, too. Callie learned quickly to rely on herself because there wasn't anyone she could trust. That's why she appears to be very self-driven in some areas but slightly behind in others," the psychologist explained. "Under normal circumstances, emotional growth follows age, but that was not true for Callie. She was given a high level of autonomy and responsibility when she didn't have the emotional wherewithal to deal with it, meaning she didn't get the chance to develop emotional maturity in other aspects."

"That is frustrating on both ends right now. You and Lena are doing the right thing trying to rein it in and to give age appropriate expectations. She doesn't see that because it's never been that way; she notices the changes without recognizing things are for the better."

"We figured as much." Stef sighed, shaking her head. "So what can we do?" Although she appreciated everything the woman was telling her, she was more concerned with how she would apply it to parenting.

"A lot of what you've already been doing already. Keep her on a predictable routine to create a sense of safety and control. Note any triggers and model appropriate ways of coping to help her get through them. Take Callie's lead on if she wants to talk; sometimes, she will need to be pushed while other times it will be more appropriate for her to bottle."

"Patience and consistency with clear consequences for behavior should help decrease the acting out, but it will take time. I would suggest engaging her in making some of the rules in discussion with you and your wife. Continue being firm and consistent when disciplining, and provide lots of reassurance that your love and attention is unconditional throughout and afterwards. Lena mentioned that you are the main disciplinarian of the children and there isn't anything wrong with that, but Callie will need to understand and feel secure in knowing that she has two parents who are on the same page. Make sure this is balanced with time-in. Schedule time she spends only with you or Lena without the rest of the family."

"That's a good idea. Lately it's like I've been stuck in constant reprimand mode with Callie. In my defence, it seems that it needs to escalate before she is ready to listen."

"Sounds familiar," Dr. Wiseman said, as she threw her head back in laughter. "Trust me, I know—I adopted my two middle children. I can tell you it could be this way for awhile until things settle down with the adoption and Callie gets used to her new environment," she said, smiling sympathetically. "As with most cases, things will get worse before they get better. Ironically, the acting out is really a milestone we want to see because it shows trust."

"From what I observed, Callie looks to be surprisingly close to you. It was promising that she wanted you to stay in the session and found it interesting that she became significantly more guarded after I had you leave. Likely, that attachment was cultivated because of the similarities between her Mom and Dad, and you and your wife. That overlap also throws her off and is a significant source of her pushback."

"I'm sorry, I'm not sure I understand," Stef replied in confusion, suppressing a yawn. Her fatigue was creeping in from the poor night's sleep and she felt a headache looming from caffeine withdrawal. "Shouldn't that make things easier, not harder?"

"There's no easy answer. It's complicated," Dr. Wiseman replied. "For one, grief has a role. I suspect Callie hasn't had the chance to process the accident adequately, so the resemblance means that she's constantly reminded that she won't ever have a family like the exact one she had with Colleen and Donald. That's tough to accept and the grief is misplaced. She doesn't want to forget them and she doesn't trust you and Lena enough yet to understand that you aren't trying to replace her Mom and Dad. It's easier for her to try to maintain the delineation between the two families, and one way she keeps that distance is by challenging your rules and expectations for her, and telling herself she doesn't have to do what you say. It's emotionally immature but an easy way to cope. Callie perceives a threat and acts out, but it's unlikely a conscious decision."

"Got it," Stef said quietly. "That makes sense. We've had several arguments now where Callie's insolence has gotten the best of her and she insists she isn't going to listen because she's not our kid."

"Exactly. Reframe it as being a milestone! I can almost guarantee Callie didn't act up in other homes, especially if abuse was ongoing. Foster parents replacing her Mom and Dad wouldn't have been a consideration that would have existed in the realm of possibility."

"Yes, wonderful. Congratulations to us!" the cop agreed in facetiousness. She laughed sadly, her eyes once again glistening. "Lena and I had thought about some of these things, but it helps to see how all the pieces connect. Thank you."

"I'm glad. Just remember, Callie's age will help you. She's thirteen—young enough to be resilient. You'll get there."

A sense of dread settled in the pit of Callie's stomach as she wandered the corridor outside the office, in search for the washroom. She couldn't decide who she was more upset with. Stef, for sharing details of a story that wasn't in her right to share and leaving her with Dr. Wiseman, who kept up her questioning and stated the obvious. Your Mom and Dad are no longer with you.

There had been a small part of her that wanted to believe Stef when she said the psychologist wouldn't force her to talk about things that she didn't want to, and that had been proven untrue. Actually, it had been a lie. She felt herself get worked up as the dam she had so carefully built to protect herself began to give way to the old feelings that had been unearthed. Of all the situations that could've been brought up, it had to have been the one about eating—a discussion which Callie would've much rather avoided.

Because although the last several years had been a blur, certain events had been branded into her for being pivotal in how she viewed the world and understood where her and Jude stood. The repercussions from that day Jude had accidentally raised flags in their shared therapy by mentioning they weren't getting enough to eat remained just as salient and frightening today, as they had been then.

She and Jude had made several mistakes today, of which the biggest one was telling the talking doctor they weren't being fed enough. After Bill said goodbye, the woman ordered them, a little too sweetly, upstairs to their room.

It was there that she watched Jeanine pull her little brother into standing, fully prepared to hit him with the leather belt that was in her hand. That was when Callie's second mistake happened. Without thinking, she grabbed the arm that held the weapon, causing the woman's fury to be redirected at her. Adrenaline kicked into high gear and she reflexively kicked and hit the woman in between blows. Her third mistake. And then a fourth and final one, committed after she managed to bite her hard on the arm to free herself.

If she had known then how things would've spiraled out of control, she wouldn't have done it.

Her relief was short-lived. Now, once again, she found herself desperately trying to grapple her way out of the woman's hold. Efforts to dig her socked feet against the floor proved fruitless; it was impossible to get any traction against the dark, slippery hardwood. Her panic increased exponentially as she was dragged closer to the small bathroom, each failed attempt to escape confirming what was to come.

"Please Jeanine. I'm sorry! I'm really sorry!" she begged, hoping to placate her way out of the situation as the woman finally let go of her. It did nothing to quell her fear as the door locked with an audible click and the shower turned on at full blast, telling her that whatever was going to happen wasn't going to be good.

The woman held the belt up close to Callie's face. "You will be when I'm done with you!" she barked, throwing it against the tile. Without warning, she wrapped one arm tightly around the girl's torso, leaving Callie to struggle helplessly as her tights were yanked down to her knees, bringing her underwear with them. Roughly, she was forced to lie on her stomach over the edge of the soaker tub.

Shuddering from the cold acrylic against her bare skin, she could only hope that it would be over soon as the woman pinned her in place.

"I'll teach you to tell lies and to fight me." She heard the benign clink as the belt was picked up and folded before it was finally brought it down on her.

The tub edge was merciless, digging into her ribs and hip bones each time she moved. She finally understood that the reason for why the water was turned on was to keep her hands occupied and out of the way. To avoid getting in the way of the freezing cold spray, she had to brace herself against the floor of the tub. She failed, anyway; her arms betrayed her with each successive lash, leaving her sputtering for breath and shaking violently from the beating and being soaked.

After several misses in which the belt slammed against the bathtub side with an earsplitting crack, the hand on her back finally let up. Right away, she scrambled down and pushed herself into the corner, turning around to defend herself. However, she realized this was far from being over when she saw the woman re-wrap the leather around her fist.

From where she sat on the toilet lid, Jeanine leaned forward and pointed to the tub. "Get back up! Get back up there and don't you dare defy me!"

Fear and panic eventually got the better of her. Curling her arms underneath herself for comfort, Callie let herself be pinned in place again as the onslaught continued, eventually forcing her cries into a wail.

She could only hope that the deafening roar of the water hitting the tub floor would mask the sound for Jude. Because she hated herself then for not being able to keep quiet and for scaring her brother. Because the most terrifying sound of all was the muffled shouts of her baby brother screaming, "Don't hurt my sister!" over and over again as five-year-old fists pounded on the door.

"Fight me again and next time that ass whooping you just earned will be the least of your worries," the woman threatened, finally letting her hand off Callie's back which sent her pitching forward into the tub.

"And don't you even think of trying to tell anyone. There's more where you came from and no one's going to save you, honey. Not your parents, not Bill, not anyone."

She remembered how cruel Jeanine's smile was as she squatted down and grabbed her roughly by her chin to face her. "Especially not your parents," she said coldly. "You know why, don't you?" she asked, though she wasn't waiting for an answer. "Your own mother and father drank to get away from you and your incorrigible brother."

"How does it feel to know it ended up killing your own mother?"

The words had cut and stayed with her all these years...

"Mama," she sobbed quietly that night once she was certain Jude had fallen asleep. It was the first time in a month she had uttered that word and, it surprised her at how foreign it felt to say aloud.

Perhaps it had been her own way of confirming if what she knew was true. Callie waited, fighting sleep as long as she could, hoping she'd be proven wrong and her parents would come through the door any minute.

But when she finally awoke the next morning, she knew. Mom wasn't ever going to come back and she promised herself she would never say that word again with the hope of hearing a response. "Bye, Mama. Love you," Callie whispered, letting the hot tears trickle into the pillow.

Maybe it had been the tiny stall, the metal door slamming shut in her hurry to pee...or the running tap that echoed against the tiled walls. But she was back there.

Heart slamming against her chest, Callie found herself quickly making her way back down the narrow corridor, which only amplified the feeling of being suffocated. Nausea was setting in from shallow breaths but there was no way she could bring herself to return to the washroom. Nor was she prepared to go back inside the office. Stef had been gone fifteen minutes and would be done soon, anyway.

Desperate to settle her breathing, Callie figured the best thing to do would be to sit in the lobby where fresh air would filter in from people coming and going. But the elevator made her feel even more claustrophobic and by the time the doors released her, the threat of vomiting was closer than ever.

The memory snapped at her feet like a monster's jaws, threatening to make her a victim a second time if she dared to stop or slow down.

So she did what she was best at...

Run.