With a sigh, I turned and began walking toward the bus stop, the chilled air biting at my nose and cheeks. As the bus arrived, I stepped into its relative warmth.
By the time I arrived at Mr. Farrow's office, my nerves were on edge. The therapy session had left me emotionally raw, and now, the prospect of whatever Mr. Farrow wanted to discuss had my stomach twisting in knots. The warmth of the building was a welcome relief from the biting cold outside, but it didn't stop the shiver that ran down my spine as I approached his door.
I knocked lightly, and his deep voice called from inside. "Come in."
I pushed the door open and stepped inside. Mr. Farrow was seated behind his desk, a stack of papers neatly arranged in front of him. His sharp, calculating eyes lifted to meet mine, and he offered a faint smile that didn't quite reach them.
"Raven," he said, gesturing for me to sit. "Thank you for coming."
I shrugged out of my coat, the lingering chill clinging to my skin, and settled into the chair across from him. "You said it was important?"
"It is." He leaned forward, folding his hands on the desk. "I wanted to discuss the next steps in your case."
My heart thudded uncomfortably in my chest. "Next steps?" I repeated. "I thought… I thought the therapy was supposed to be the next step. To help me remember."
"It is," he said carefully. "But therapy alone won't be enough. Memory can be a tricky thing, and even if you do recover more details, that doesn't always hold up in court without corroborating evidence."
I swallowed hard, my palms starting to sweat despite the cold that still lingered in my bones. "So… what are you saying? That we don't have a case?"
He shook his head. "I didn't say that. What I'm saying is that we need more. Physical evidence would have been ideal, but as we've discussed before, too much time has passed for that to be a viable option."
I nodded, the familiar weight of frustration and helplessness settling over me. "So then what? What else can we do?"
Mr. Farrow leaned back in his chair, his expression thoughtful. "Elias and I have been discussing some alternative approaches."
"Elias?" I asked, surprised. "What does he have to do with this?"
"He's been incredibly involved in helping you, Raven," Mr. Farrow said. "And he's… resourceful. He proposed an idea that, while risky, could potentially give us the evidence we need."
I frowned, leaning forward slightly. "What kind of idea?"
Mr. Farrow hesitated as though weighing his words carefully. "A recording," he said finally. "If we could get your stepfather to admit, in his own words, to what he's done, that would be significant."
The room seemed to grow colder at his suggestion. I stared at him, my mind reeling. "You want me to… to record him? How? He's not just going to confess out of nowhere."
"Not out of nowhere," Mr. Farrow admitted. "But perhaps if you were to confront him in the right way, in the right context, he might let something slip. Abusers often become defensive or even arrogant when they feel cornered. If we can get him to say something incriminating, that could be enough."
I let out a sharp laugh, though there was no humor in it. "You make it sound so simple. Just walk in there and hope he incriminates himself? He's not stupid, Mr. Farrow."
"No, he's not," Mr. Farrow agreed. "Which is why this would require careful planning. You wouldn't be going into this unprepared."
I shook my head, the thought of facing William again making my stomach churn. "I don't know if I can do that," I admitted, my voice barely above a whisper. "He… he scares me."
"I understand," Mr. Farrow said gently. "And I wouldn't suggest this if I didn't believe you were capable of it. But you wouldn't be alone in this, Raven. Elias and I would work with you to plan everything. We'd make sure you were safe."
"Safe?" I echoed bitterly. "How can I be safe if I'm standing right in front of him?"
"We could set up a meeting in a public place," he suggested. "Somewhere neutral, where he wouldn't feel threatened but also wouldn't have the opportunity to lash out."
"And what if he doesn't say anything?" I challenged. "What if he just denies everything?"
"That's a possibility," Mr. Farrow admitted. "But based on what you've told me about his personality, I believe there's a chance he might slip up. Especially if he feels like he still has power over you."
I looked away, my gaze falling to the floor. The idea of facing William again made my skin crawl, but at the same time, I couldn't shake the thought of James and Lily. They were still trapped in that house, still at their mercy. If there was even a chance this could help them…
"You're asking a lot," I said finally, my voice trembling.
"I know," Mr. Farrow said softly. "And I wouldn't blame you if you said no. This is your decision, Raven. No one else's."
I clenched my hands into fists, trying to steady my breathing. "You really think this could work?"
"I do," he said firmly. "But it won't be easy. You'd need to be prepared for anything."
I nodded slowly, my mind racing. "I'll… I'll think about it."
"That's all I ask," he said, offering me a small smile. "Take your time. And if you decide to go through with it, we'll be here to help every step of the way."
I stood, my legs feeling shaky beneath me. "Is that all?"
"For now," Mr. Farrow said. "But Raven… whatever you decide, just remember that you're not alone in this."
His words lingered in my mind as I left the office and stepped back into the cold. The snow was falling again, tiny flakes drifting down from the gray sky, and I pulled my coat tighter around me. The thought of confronting William was terrifying, but as I walked toward the bus stop, one thought repeated over and over in my mind:
If this was what it took to save James and Lily, then maybe—just maybe—I could find the strength to do it.