Wednesday. September 11, 1995.
"Wake up, my little kitten. Time to get to breakfast."
Jenna gave a groan of protest, burying her face in the pillow.
"Don'wanna…" she muttered.
But she opened her eyes anyway, turning to look up into Dolores' face. The older woman smiled widely, brushing a lock of hair out of Jenna's eyes.
"My pretty little kitten."
…
As Jenna dressed, Dolores eyed her intently. Jenna's skin grew warm as she thought of the night before, of the way she'd touched her…
"Are you really going to wear your hair up again, kitten?" Dolores asked softly. "You've got such pretty hair."
"I feel more comfortable with it up."
"Oh, but you look so pretty with it down." Dolores pouted. "Leave it down for me. It would make me so happy!"
"…Alright…" Jenna reluctantly tugged the band out of her hair, sliding it onto her wrist.
"Good girl." Dolores smiled. "Now, then, let's get going, shall we?"
…
Roger Davies bounced anxiously on his heels outside the Great Hall, his eyes searching anxiously for a sign of Jenna. He had a knot of panic in his gut.
Wyatt had come down into the common room without his usual pleasant smile. His body had been stiff, his jaw clenched. Roger had waved at him, but his presence didn't seem to register. Wyatt had kept walking, his eyes straight ahead. He'd gotten dressed, but just barely. His robes were thrown on haphazardly, as though he didn't know how to wear them, and his shoes were untied. His normally smoothed curls were in wild disarray.
"Oy. Harper." Roger had caught up with him, following him out of the common room, ignoring the curious stares from the others. "Oy!"
He'd grabbed Wyatt's arm. The tall boy had gone rigid, wheeling around to face him with wild panic in his eyes. Roger had immediately dropped his arm as though burned. He'd seen that same look in Wyatt's eyes in the boat their first year, the helpless, vulnerable panic of a lost child.
"Jen." Wyatt's lips had barely moved.
It had taken a second for Roger to figure it out.
"I'll find her." he'd said carefully. "Are you okay? Do you need anything?"
Wyatt had continued walking, once more oblivious to him.
Roger had followed him out past the Great Hall, out into the courtyard where the taller boy had slid down the wall, pulling his knees to his chest.
…
Wyatt's body was trembling.
He'd had the dream again last night.
Thirteen years old. Awkward and knobby, knees trembling and teeth clenched as he stood in the kitchen. There was so much red…
The tablecloth on the kitchen table that had been their grandmother's.
The bowl of apples on the counter that were starting to go soft.
Mum's lipstick, a shade called 'Scarlet O'Hi-There'.
Dad's face as he shouted at her.
Jenna's sundress that they'd found at the secondhand shop.
The flashes of angry heat in his eyes.
The pool of blood on the linoleum.
The vase of bearded irises their neighbor Stephen had brought from his garden.
He'd woken up on the verge of screaming, already fumbling for the knife he'd kept tucked under his pillow since the start of fourth year.
He needed Jenna.
…
Jenna walked next to Dolores, careful not to appear too friendly. They chatted amicably, as though they'd just happened to take the same path to breakfast that morning. Dolores was… surprisingly good at pretending nothing was different, as though Jenna was just another student when, less than ten minutes ago, they'd been exchanging a few last, passionate kisses in her office.
Despite her calm demeanor, Jenna felt positively giddy. This woman was incredible! She was so kind, so loving, so positively perfect. It took an enormous amount of restraint for her to resist taking the older woman's hand and skipping down the corridor. Was this love? Real love?
As soon as Jenna saw Davies pacing anxiously outside of the Great Hall, though, her blood went cold. She recognized the expression on his face all too well.
Immediately, she quickened her steps, striding far ahead of Dolores and donning the no-nonsense persona that would no doubt serve her well in the Healing profession.
Davies had visibly relaxed when she drew closer.
"Jenna, I don't know what…"
"Where is he?" she asked briskly.
"Courtyard. Jenna, what…"
"I'll take care of him." She glanced back at Dolores, who was none too subtly watching them. "Distract her."
He nodded, his lips pressed tightly together.
Without another moment's hesitation, Jenna strode quickly out to the courtyard, not casting another glance back at Dolores or Davies. She needed to focus now. Wyatt needed her.
…
Wyatt stared straight ahead, trying to focus on the shapes of the courtyard through the red haze that was clouding his mind. He could feel rage coursing through his veins, rage that didn't belong there. He tried to force it down, tried to swallow it.
Just a flashback…
It will pass…
Stephen's irises in their vase.
The blood.
The soft apples on the counter.
The blood.
So much red…
"Wyatt." Jenna's soft voice penetrated the cloud of red in his mind. "I'm here. You're safe."
He nodded, but didn't trust himself to speak. If he opened his mouth, he might vomit. He might scream.
Thirteen years old.
Gran's tablecloth.
Dad was shouting.
The blood.
Stephen's irises.
"I'm going to sit down next to you, Wyatt. Is that alright?"
Wyatt nodded again, and he felt Jenna sink down beside him.
"I'm going to put my arm around you, if that's okay." She said gently. He didn't respond. "Wyatt?"
He nodded.
Jenna's arm slid securely around his shoulders.
"You had the dream again." It wasn't a question. "You're having a flashback now, Wyatt. You're completely safe. Do you know where you are?"
He gave a shaky nod.
"Can you tell me where you are?"
"S-school." He could scarcely hear his own voice.
"Where at school are you, Wyatt?"
"The courtyard."
"Good, good. Now, just… breathe, alright? Deep breaths. Remember, it's just a flashback."
He nodded.
"Do you think you can stand up, Wyatt?"
The thought of getting to his feet sent a thrill of dread to his heart. He was safer down here.
He shook his head.
"Okay. Alright. We'll stay down here for a bit."
As Jenna continued to talk to him, he felt his muscles relaxing. The red haze began to fade away, and he managed to focus on his surroundings again. Bit by bit, he was returning to reality.
Once he was able to stand, they made their way back inside. People were already bustling to classes, so he and Jenna quickly fell in with the rest of the crowd as though they'd been there the entire time.
(AN: The next chapter goes somewhat into detail about a situation involving domestic abuse. If this may trigger something in you, skip the section that is italicized.)