Total pages in book: 187
Estimated words: 174623 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 873(@200wpm)___ 698(@250wpm)___ 582(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 174623 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 873(@200wpm)___ 698(@250wpm)___ 582(@300wpm)
"Are you alone today?" I ask.
"Just me today," she answers. "How was Dean's night?"
Her voice is a whisper, her eyes directed toward the kitchen, knowing everyone is having breakfast at this time of morning.
"Denise's notes said it was another rough night for him," I say with a frown.
She pulls in a deep breath, sadness on her pretty face. "I hate that for him."
"I do, too, but Andrea made him pancakes, so he's in a pretty good mood."
"And Daisy?" she asks, her tone hopeful.
I chuckle.
"Oh no," she says. "Bad?"
"She had hair trouble this morning," I explain. "But we're working on getting her some flyaway gel and some pretty clips. She's in a better mood now."
"That look on your face tells me you're realizing just how sad their story is," she says.
I dip my head. "We're working on making it better. That's all that matters."
"Very true."
"New intake is here," the man out front says through the comms.
"Thank you," I tell the man standing out front.
I got here an hour early this morning, and the man from my first meeting with Cerberus was standing out there already.
"She’s been searched," he continues. "And her things have been deemed safe."
"Thank you," I tell him again.
"I'll let you work," Beth says with a little wave before walking toward the classroom. "Have a good day."
"You as well," I say, waiting for her to enter the room before checking the window.
I trust that the guys out front are keeping us safe, but I have to verify it before opening the front door.
I scan the front yard, lifting the blind a little higher to see further left and right.
The man out front shifts on his feet as the woman walks up the sidewalk, his eyes locked on her as one of his teammates carries two small bags of personal belongings.
The other guy doesn't go further than the front step, placing her belongings at her feet.
"This is as far as we go," I hear him tell her.
I drop the blind, letting it slide back into place, and step toward the front door. I fill my lungs with one more deep breath and reach for the doorknob.
"Hi," I tell the woman standing there, waiting for her to stop staring at the guy standing off to the side. "Please come inside."
She hesitates, looking almost fearful to pull her eyes off the man, but eventually reaches down, grabs the straps on her bags, and carries them inside.
"I'm Kayla Rowe," she says as she steps inside.
"I'm Juliet," I say. "Welcome to Juniper House."
I give her a minute to look all around, knowing just how frightening it is to step into a new shelter, unsure if you're actually safe.
When she shifts her attention back to me, I give her a soft smile.
"Do you want to start with paperwork, a tour, or would you like me to show you to your room first?"
She considers the question before answering. "Paperwork. I'd like to get it out of the way."
"Great plan," I say, moving my arm toward the office. "We can step right in here."
I wait for her to enter before closing the door. People can still see in since there's no curtain, but it'll give us a little privacy.
"You can have a seat right there," I say, indicating the chair across from my desk. "This shouldn't take long at all."
I take a seat behind my desk, giving her my full attention. The bruises on her face are beginning to heal, leaving behind yellow and green marks. For some, it may be hard to see, but in my experience, the yellowing bruises mean she hasn't been hit in at least a few days. A lot of women don't have time for one bruise to heal before they're given another. So the coloring is actual progress.
"You've been at an emergency shelter?"
She dips her head. "Yes."
"How was your stay?"
She swallows, looking over her shoulder.
"You can move your chair however you'd like to feel more comfortable," I tell her.
She doesn't hesitate to reposition it so she has a clear view of the door.
"The men outside," she says.
"They keep an eye on the property. They make sure we're safe. There's usually one in the back and one up front."
"They don't come inside?"
"Never," I tell her. "And they will not speak to you."
"They aren't allowed?"
"They will speak back, can answer questions and such, but they don't want to make you feel uncomfortable," I explain. "They will not be the ones to start a conversation with anyone here. Staff included."
"Who do they work for?" she asks.
"A third-party company," I answer. "Ready to get started?"
She nods again.
"How was your stay at the emergency shelter?" I repeat, trying to get us back on track.
"It was okay," she says. "Not as nice as this place seems."
"We have a lovely home. I think you'll like being here."
"How many other people live here?"