I watch him leave. The metal doors slide shut. I don’t move. I stare at the spot on the marble where the photo lay just minutes ago.
The photo exists as a reminder to a nightmare I thought the fire swallowed fifteen years ago. Those boys in the yard. Reid, Dameon, Theo, Micah. The names echo in my head, ghost-children from a shelter that no longer exists. I remember Reid’s height, Dameon’s shoulders, Theo’s hair, and Micah’s taped glasses. But those children vanished in the smoke. Now, someone found their photo. Someone knew I lived in Unit 1301. Someone walked into the most secure building in the city and left a threat in my home.
Standing up, I walk toward the balcony, my now bare feet silent on the stone. I push open the heavy glass door. The humid night air of the city rushes in, smelling of exhaust and distant rain; I double-check no one is out there before I sigh and close it again.
I need to drown out the sound of my frantic thoughts. Heading to my nest, I crawl onto the bed and pull the weighted blanket over before grabbing my laptop. The blue light of the laptop reflects in my eyes. I log into the portal, my fingers trembling as I type in the address for the Remote Alpha Aid.
Tuesday’s online icon glows a soft, inviting green. He helped me the other night when I felt on the verge of a mental breakdown. I hit the request button. I need Tuesday to pull me back from the edge.
The digital chime of the connection sounds off in the quiet of the nesting room. The screen flickers to life, and the dark, charcoal mask of Tuesday fills the frame. He sits in that high-backed chair, his broad shoulders casting a heavy shadow over the desk behind him. The frantic noise in my head lets up a bit just seeing him through the portal. I pull the weighted blanket tighter around my shoulders and sink into my bed, my arms tucked securely beneath the heavy fabric.
Tuesday leans forward, his hands resting on the arms of the chair. He carries himself with a steady vibe that reaches through the speakers and settles right into my bones.
“Good to see you again, Zo. You look restless. Anything I can do for you?”
I stare at the eye-slits of the mask, trying to find the man behind the fabric.
“I just need to relax. It’s been a bad night. Can you help me fall asleep? Like the other night?”
Silence hangs between us for a long beat. Tuesday leans back in his chair, his gaze steady through the mask. “Do you want to talk about it first, Zo?”
I pick at a loose thread on the blanket from underneath the weight. The image of that charred Polaroid keeps flashing in my mind, making my heart race all over again.
“Someone left a photo in my apartment. A childhood photo that shouldn’t even exist. They got past all the security. I feel like I’m being watched in my own home.”
Tuesday’s shoulders tighten up before he eases them back down.
“That sounds messed up, Zo. Nobody should have to deal with that. I get why you’re so on edge. We’ll take it slow tonight. Just lie back on the pillows and get comfortable. Close your eyes when you’re ready.”
I do what he says and drop back onto the mattress. The bed warms up beneath as the timer for the warmer kicks in.
A long pause follows. My lungs match his slow, steady breathing.
“I’m going to help you let go of all that noise tonight, Zo. I want you to picture me kneeling next to you. Imagine the heat from my hands hovering just over your skin while we start at the top of your head.”
A strange, warm sensation blooms at the top of my skull. It pulses along with his deep voice.
“The heat goes down to your jaw. Unclench it. Let your tongue drop away from the roof of your mouth.”
I follow along, my lips parting a little. The tension eases away, leaving behind a faint tingling.
“Good.”
The silence stretches for a few seconds, feeling thick but safe.
“My palms drift down now. They hover over your throat. Let those muscles soften for me. Feel the heat from my hands pushing all that stress right out of your neck.”
My breath hitches, then flows out in a long, even stream. That creepy feeling of being watched finally fades.
“I’m moving to your shoulders now. Just let those knots go, Zo. Feel the heat working into the tension until it melts away.”
My shoulders drop an inch, letting go of the weight of the last few hours.
“Let your arms get heavy as my hands move over your heart. Let my calm energy steady yours.”
Another long, quiet stretch follows. My heart rate drops, matching the low hum of his voice.
“I’m moving to your stomach now. Soften up those muscles, relaxing your core. Feel the mattress supporting your spine. You have nothing to worry about. You’re safe.”
