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“I’ll set up everything,” I go on, trying to sound as casual as possible. “I’d just hate for Genesis to have to leave here because she doesn’t feel safe.” I shake my head in fake disappointment. “It’d just break her poor heart.” I place my hand against my chest. “Everyone’sheart.”

“Oh … all right,” Lora says. “We’ll need to provide background checks on everyone.”

“Not a problem.”

“If you can get female security, that’d be best. It’d make the women feel more comfortable.”

“Background check. Females. Keep everyone protected.” I stand, salute, and then wink at Lora. “I got it covered.”

After leaving her office, I check to make sure Genesis is still in class and then retreat outside to call Yaroslav again.

Voicemail.

“Yaroslav, you havetwo fucking days,” I say, then end the call.

33

“Hi, Sage,”I say, collecting my folders as she stops in front of my desk. “Thank you for coming to class today.”

Today was her second class.

During the first one, she hadn’t said a word or volunteered one answer.

Today, she answered one question.

Progress is progress.

She trails her fingers over the desk, her brown bangs falling in front of her eyes. “I saw you on the news.” She doesn’t look up. “A story about your father.”

I’m getting better at dealing with comments about him.

Improving on not suddenly feeling this intense anxiety.

What my father did will haunt me for the rest of my life.

I stand, shoving my folder into my bag, and not knowing what to say, I stay quiet. Unlike with the teens who came barreling into my classroom, talking shit, her situation is different.

We don’t have a relationship where I can tell her to cool it.

Attending my classes is optional for her, not mandatory, like with the children.

“My dad is dead too,” she says, finally looking up at me and blowing the bangs away from her face.

“I’m so sorry,” I say, my voice soft as I try to control my emotions. “I know it’s hard.”

I don’t want to talk about losing my father on the day of his funeral.

It’s why I came here.

But I don’t want to blow her off.

According to Lora, Sage still refuses to talk with a shelter therapist and isolates herself from the other women. She plays Go Fish with the children sometimes, but that’s the only time she speaks.

No one knows why she’s here, who she is, or where she came from. There are no physical signs of abuse that we can see, but that doesn’t always mean anything. Abuse isn’t only scars and bruises. Many people suffer severe mental and emotional abuse here as well.

Sage is one big mystery, but sooner or later, she’ll have to answer questions. Therapy and a psych evaluation are mandatory at the shelter. They need to know who they’re housing.

“Did he pass away recently?” I ask her.