Lines We Cross

The week dragged on, every day feeling both endless and fleeting. With lectures, project meetings with Aiden, scattered messages from Maya and Elias, and Mr. Farrow canceling Wednesday’s meeting, I felt like I was balancing on a tightrope, juggling too many plates. There wasn’t much time to dwell on anything else. Yet, in the quiet moments, that familiar, uneasy feeling would creep in, like the storm inside me was building again, waiting for the right moment to break.

By Friday the final group meeting was scheduled for the early evening. It was crunch time—every detail had to be polished, every calculation double- and triple-checked. Despite my nerves, I felt a quiet excitement brewing. The project had been a strange constant amidst all the chaos, a challenge I could control. Well, mostly, if I ignored the mess that was our first meeting.

I arrived at the study room fifteen minutes early, as usual. The faint hum of fluorescent lights filled the otherwise silent space. Dropping my bag on the table, I spread out my laptop and notes, organizing everything into neat piles. It was therapeutic, in a way—a way to focus my energy while I waited.

The door creaks open, and Aiden walks in, holding a tray with two coffees. His hair was slightly messy like he’d rushed to get here.

“Thought you might need this,” he said, setting one of the cups in front of me.

“You always get here too early,” he teased, sliding into the chair across from me. “What if one day I show up first? You’d be lost without this coffee ritual.”

I raised an eyebrow. “The day you beat me here is the day I start worrying. But until then, I’ll take the coffee.”

He chuckled and took a sip of his drink. “Fair enough. How’s everything looking?”

“Mostly fine. Just need to run through some of the data visuals one more time to make sure they’re consistent,” I said, flipping through my notes. “Sarah still hasn’t sent her finalized slides, though.”

“She’ll be here soon. And if not, well... I guess I’ll work my charm on her to speed things up.”

I rolled my eyes at his grin but felt a flicker of warmth at how easy it was to talk to him. For all his confidence, Aiden had a knack for putting people at ease, myself included.

Not long after, the rest of the group began trickling in. The quiet room quickly filled with voices, the sound of papers shuffling, and the rhythmic tapping of keyboards. Sarah arrived last, looking frazzled but with her slides finally ready.

The meeting kicked off, and for the next few hours, we tackled every detail of our presentation. Adjusting graphs, revising talking points, and running through potential questions the panel might ask. There were moments of tension—Sarah was visibly stressed, and another group member, Alex, kept getting distracted—but Aiden kept the mood light, cracking jokes whenever things got too tense.

~

By the time we finished, it was nearly 9 PM, and we were all exhausted.

“Alright,” Aiden said, stretching his arms over his head as he leaned back in his chair. “I think we’re ready. Or at least, as ready as we’ll ever be.”

“Let’s hope so,” I muttered, closing my laptop and gathering my notes. “One more look at that slide deck, and I’ll lose it.”

Aiden smirked. “That’s the spirit. Nothing like pure exhaustion to sell a presentation.”

Sarah shot him a tired glare but couldn’t suppress a small smile. “Let’s just hope the panel’s not too brutal.”

The classroom soon emptied out, and as we stepped out into the hallway, the cool night air from the open windows brushed against my face. It felt like a quiet reward for the long evening. The campus was calm at this hour, the usual buzz replaced by the distant chirping of crickets.

Aiden fell into step beside me as we walked toward the dorms. His hands were stuffed into his pockets, his gaze fixed ahead.

“You’ve been quiet today,” he said after a moment. “Well, quieter than usual quiet.”

“I didn’t think that was possible,” I replied lightly, but he didn’t take the bait.

“Seriously, though,” he said. “You okay?”

I hesitated, the weight of his question settling over me. He wasn’t the type to push, but when he asked for something, he meant it.

“I’m just tired,” I said finally. “And there’s a lot on my mind.”

He glanced at me, his brow furrowing slightly. “Anything you want to get off your chest?”

I shook my head. “Not right now. But… thanks.”

He nodded, his expression softening. “Alright. But you know you can, right? Whenever.”

“I know,” I said, and I meant it, right?

We reached the corner where our paths split—his apartment building was a bit far, but he still walked me to mine, while mine was just around the bend. He hesitated for a moment like he wanted to say something else, but then he just smiled.

“Get some sleep, Raven,” he said. “And don’t let Sarah’s graphs haunt your dreams.”

I snorted, shaking my head. “No promises.”

~

As I walked the rest of the way to the dorm, I felt the knot in my chest loosen slightly. He always had a way of doing that—easing the tension without even realizing it.

Back in the dorm, Maya was sprawled out on her bed, scrolling through her phone. She looked up as I entered, her face lighting up.

“Finally! I thought you’d never get back,” she said, sitting up. “How’d it go? Did Aiden survive, or did you two kill each other over pie charts again?”

“Very funny,” I said, dropping my bag onto the floor. “It went fine. We’re ready for Monday.”

“Good, because I refuse to deal with your stress-cleaning this weekend.”

I rolled my eyes but didn’t argue. She wasn’t wrong.

Later that evening, as I lay in bed, staring at the ceiling, my phone buzzed on the nightstand. I reached for it, squinting at the screen.

Unknown: Raven, it’s Mr. Farrow. Can we meet tomorrow? Sorry I couldn’t meet earlier this week—things got hectic.

I stared at the message for a moment longer, the weight of Mr. Farrow’s name heavy in my chest. My fingers hovered over the keyboard as I considered how to reply.

Me: Tomorrow works. What time and where?

I hit send before I could second-guess myself. The storm I’d been sensing all week suddenly felt closer, and though I couldn’t see it clearly, I knew it was coming.

Rolling onto my side, I let out a slow breath, my phone still in my hand. The glow of the screen illuminated the small dorm room; Maya’s side was dim except for the soft light from her charging laptop. She had fallen asleep, sprawled on her bed as usual, one arm dangling off the side.

~

A thought crossed my mind, and before I could talk myself out of it, I opened my messages and pulled up Elias’s contact.

Me: **Hey, Mr. Farrow just texted me. He wants to meet tomorrow. Thought you’d want to know.**

I stared at the message for a moment, wondering if I sounded too formal—or maybe too distant. Elias and I weren’t exactly close, but over the past few weeks, there had been a growing ease between us. Not sure; it might just be me.

I pressed send, and the tiny delivery checkmark confirmed that it was done.

A few seconds later, my phone buzzed. I hadn’t expected him to respond so quickly.

Elias: **That’s late notice. Did he say why?**

I bit my lip, typing out my response.

Me: **No, just that things got hectic this week. Do you think it’s right to go tomorrow?**

The three dots appeared, then disappeared, then appeared again. Finally, his reply came through:

Elias: **If he’s reaching out now, it probably is. Where are you meeting him?**

My stomach knotted as I reread his words. Something about them felt foreboding, even though he hadn’t said anything overtly alarming.

Me: **I don’t know yet. Waiting for him to confirm.**

I hesitated before replying, my fingers hovering over the keyboard. Elias always seemed to know more than he let on, and though his tone wasn’t exactly warm, there was an undercurrent of concern that I couldn’t ignore.

Me: **Okay. Thanks, Elias.**

His response came almost immediately.

Elias: **Don’t thank me yet.**

That was the last message of the night, and it stayed with me as I set my phone down and turned off the light. The next day, I woke to a flurry of messages—one from Elias, asking if I was ready for our meeting with Mr. Farrow, and another from Maya, reminding me to relax about the project and that she was gonna grab some snacks for me as she was coming to the dorm late.

I stared at the screen for a few seconds before texting Elias back: Ready as I’ll ever be. Just hope that I’m getting a coffee that will be strong enough for this conversation. A minute later, his response pinged in: Trust me, it's strong enough for both of us. I smiled despite myself, the way he always knew what to say. I couldn’t exactly say I was looking forward to the conversation with Mr. Farrow, but I knew it was necessary. I had been dodging the reality of what they wanted from me, what they were asking me to do, for days now. Elias had made it clear—this wasn’t just about legal counsel.

Mr. Farrow would try to convince me to take William to court, to press charges of rape and sexual assault.

~

The weight of it still made my stomach churn. Could I really do that? Could I confront my stepfather in such an official way? A part of me wanted to say no, but I knew deep down that not doing anything would mean continuing to live in fear of him and making my siblings suffer forever. A woman had to make her own choices.

I checked the clock—it was already nearing noon. I took a deep breath, grabbed my jacket off the chair, and slipped into my outfit for the day: a simple black midi dress with short sleeves paired with ankle boots. It was uncomplicated yet presentable, perfectly suited for today when I needed to focus on what lay ahead.

As I stepped out of the dorm, I saw Elias’s car pulling up to the curb. He waved at me from the driver’s seat with that signature grin of his. I quickly walked over, opened the passenger door, and slid in beside him.

“You sure you’re ready for this?” Elias asked as he pulled away from the curb, his eyes glancing briefly over at me.

I nodded, though I wasn’t sure if it was more for him or myself. “I’m as ready as I can be. Just... a little nervous, you know?”

Elias chuckled, the sound easy and reassuring. “I get it. Mr. Farrow’s office isn’t exactly a place where you can put your feet up and relax. But look, Raven, whatever happens, I’m here with you. Every step of the way. And I’m betting Mr. Farrow’s got a plan, so you’re not doing this alone.”

“I know.” My voice was soft, but I felt the smallest bit of warmth inside, knowing that Elias was there. “It’s just... a lot. All of it. I never thought I’d have to do something like this, you know?”

“I know. None of us plan on this kind of thing. But you’re strong enough to face it. And once you do, you’ll feel like a weight’s been lifted.”

I appreciated his optimism, though I wasn’t sure I agreed. It felt like I was walking toward something I could neither see nor fully understand. “I hope you’re right.”

“Trust me, I’m always right.” Elias grinned at me again, that teasing, confident smile of his. “Besides, if Mr. Farrow can’t talk you into taking down your stepdad, no one can.”

I snorted, amused despite myself. “I’m not sure that’s a compliment.”

“Hey, I’ll take what I can get.” He winked, eyes back on the road. “But seriously, you’ve got this. If not for you, then for your siblings. They need to see you be strong.”

I sighed, resting my head back against the seat. “I know. I know they do. It’s just hard.”

“I get it. But it will be fine.”

~

The silence between us was comfortable after that, and for a moment, I let myself lean into it. This wasn’t something I could face alone, and having Elias there, just maybe, I could take this step forward.

Elias’s car slowed to a stop outside the office building, and I stared at the sleek, professional exterior through the window. My fingers curled into the fabric of my jeans, the weight of the upcoming conversation pressing down on my chest.

“You okay?” Elias’s voice broke through the silence. His tone was softer now, careful, as though he knew the wrong words might make me bolt.

I nodded, though I didn’t believe my own answer. “I’ll be fine.”

Elias didn’t push. He never did. “Remember, this is your choice, Raven. You don’t have to say anything you don’t want to.”

I nodded again, inhaling deeply as I opened the door. “Let’s get this over with.”

The walk to Mr. Farrow’s office felt heavy. My feet dragged as if they knew where I was going and wanted to turn back. Elias walked a half-step behind me, quiet but present. By the time we reached the door, I wasn’t sure I could go through with it. Mr. Farrow stood as we entered, his calm, steady presence immediately grounding the tension in my chest. “Raven. Elias.” He gestured to the chairs across from his desk. “Please, have a seat.”

Elias gave him a brief nod and held the chair for me before settling into the one beside mine.

“Before we begin, I want you to know this is a safe space,” Mr. Farrow said, folding his hands on the desk. “You’re in control of what we discuss today, and there’s no pressure to share more than you’re comfortable with.”

The word “safe” felt foreign, almost absurd. My jaw tightened as I stared down at my hands, my nails digging into my palms.

Mr. Farrow glanced at Elias, who leaned forward slightly. “I’ll be right outside,” Elias said gently, his hand brushing my shoulder briefly before he stood and left the room.

The sound of the door closing felt too loud, and the silence that followed was deafening.

“Take your time,” Mr. Farrow said, his tone even.

I swallowed hard, my fingers trembling slightly. “I… I don’t know where to start,” I admitted.

“That’s okay,” he said. “Why don’t we start with why you’re here? What’s made you consider taking this step?”

I hesitated, my thoughts tangling together in a chaotic knot. “It’s… complicated,” I muttered.

“I understand. Complicated is often the right word for situations like this,” Mr. Farrow replied. “Can I ask—has your stepfather ever harmed you physically? Or emotionally?”

I froze, my breath catching. The room seemed smaller now, the air thicker. The memories hovered just beyond reach, flashes of moments I’d buried deep.

“I don’t…” My voice cracked, and I shook my head. “I don’t remember. Not all of it.”

Mr. Farrow didn’t react, his expression calm and patient. “That’s normal, Raven. The brain often protects us from memories that are too painful to process all at once.”

I swallowed again, my hands gripping the edge of my seat. “I was… younger,” I whispered. “He—he used to… I don’t know.” The words twisted in my throat, refusing to come out. “It’s all blurry. I just know it happened.”

“That’s enough for now,” Mr. Farrow said gently. “We don’t need every detail. What matters is how you feel about it now. Do you feel unsafe around him?”

I nodded quickly, tears stinging my eyes. “He doesn’t… do that anymore. Not like before. But he—he touches me when no one’s around. Says things.” My voice shook as I added, “Threatened me. If I ever told anyone and I believed him.”

“Thank you for sharing that, Raven,” Mr. Farrow said. “I know how hard that must’ve been.”

I shook my head, my voice trembling. “My mother refuses to believe me. She always said that I was lying. That I’m just trying to ruin her family.”

Mr. Farrow’s brow furrowed slightly, but his voice remained calm. “That’s not uncommon in cases like this. It’s difficult for some people to confront the truth, especially when it disrupts their reality.”

I laughed bitterly, the sound sharp and cold. “Disrupts her reality? She’s living with a monster, and she doesn’t care.”

“That must feel incredibly isolating,” Mr. Farrow said

“It is,” I whispered, my voice cracking again.

~

We sat in silence for a moment before he continued. “Legally, these cases are challenging without physical evidence, but they’re not impossible. If you decide to move forward, we’d look at testimonies, psychological evaluations, and anything else that could support your story. It’s about building a narrative that helps others understand what you’ve been through.”

I shook my head. “There’s no one who’ll believe me. My mother won’t, my siblings are too young, and I’ve spent my whole life hiding it. There’s no proof. Nothing.”

Mr. Farrow leaned forward slightly, his voice steady. “Your story is proof, Raven. Your courage to speak up is proof. And while it may not feel like enough right now, it’s a start. We don’t have to build the entire case today. This is about taking the first step.”

I looked away, tears slipping down my cheeks. “If I do this, he’ll be taken away. And my mother? She’ll hate me even more. My siblings will hate me. I’ll destroy what’s left of their family.”

Mr. Farrow’s voice softened. “Raven, what your stepfather has done is not your fault. If he’s taken from your family, it’s because of his actions, not yours.”

“But it feels like my fault,” I said, my voice breaking. “I’ve been protecting them my whole life. If I do this, I’m the one tearing it all apart.”

“You’ve been carrying a weight that no one should have to bear,” Mr. Farrow said gently. “But protecting them doesn’t mean sacrificing yourself. You deserve safety, Raven. You deserve peace.”

I buried my face in my hands, sobs shaking my shoulders.

~

The door opened quietly, and I heard Elias’s footsteps before I felt his hand on my back. “Hey,” he murmured, his voice soft and soothing.

I couldn’t respond; the words caught in my throat.

Mr. Farrow cleared his throat. “Raven, I’m here to help you, no matter what you decide. Take your time. There’s no rush.”

Elias knelt beside me, his hand still resting on my back. “We’ve got you,” he said quietly. “You don’t have to do this alone.”

And I let myself believe him—just a little.

I hadn’t moved since Elias had sat next to me. His hand stayed on my back, warm and steady, while I sat curled in on myself. It was like every word Mr. Farrow had said replayed in my mind, but they were jumbled now—louder, harsher, twisted into something accusatory.

He’ll be taken away. My siblings will hate me. My mother will hate me more.

Elias shifted beside me, his voice low and hesitant like he wasn’t sure if he was allowed to speak. “Raven… You don’t have to make a decision right now.”

“I can’t do it,” I muttered, shaking my head. “I just… I can’t.”

“You don’t have to,” Elias said, his tone soft but firm. “But you don’t have to keep carrying this alone, either. You deserve—”

“Stop saying that!” I snapped, my voice sharper than I intended. I shot up from my chair, pacing to the far corner of the room. My hands clenched and unclenched at my sides, nails biting into my palms.

The room went quiet except for the sound of my ragged breaths. I turned to face them both, my throat tight. “I don’t deserve anything. Don’t you get it? I let this happen. I let him…” My voice faltered. “I just stood there. Every time. I stayed still.”

Elias stood slowly, his movements careful, like I was something fragile about to shatter. His voice was low, steady. “He’s the one who did this to you, Raven. Not you.”

My laugh was bitter, hollow. “Then why does it feel like I’m the one destroying everything? If I do this… if I say something, my mother will lose him. James and Lily will lose their dad. Their whole world will fall apart.” My voice cracked. “And it’ll be my fault.”

Mr. Farrow leaned forward slightly, his voice calm but pointed. “Your siblings’ safety and well-being are important, but so is yours. You’re not responsible for holding the family together, especially when that means sacrificing your own safety.”

I hugged myself, trying to keep the emotions from spilling out again. “But they’ll hate me,” I whispered.

“They won’t,” Elias said, his voice softer now but still carrying that quiet conviction that he always seemed to have. “They’re kids, Raven. They might not understand everything right away, but one day, they will. One day, they’ll realize you did this for them, too.”

The weight of his words sank into me, heavy and suffocating. I sat back down, my legs trembling too much to hold me up any longer. “I don’t even remember all of it,” I murmured, barely audible. “It’s just flashes—pieces that don’t make sense. How can I even talk about it when I can’t remember everything?”

Mr. Farrow nodded, his expression unchanged. “That’s normal, Raven. Trauma has a way of fragmenting our memories, but that doesn’t mean your experience isn’t valid. Your story matters, whether it comes in pieces or as a whole. We can work through it together, slowly, if that’s what you choose.”

I pressed my fingers to my temples, my head throbbing. “And if I don’t choose to?”

There was a pause before Mr. Farrow answered. “Then nothing changes. He stays where he is, and so do you. That’s the reality. But…” He leaned forward, his tone steady but gentle. “Ask yourself—can you keep living like this?”

The question hit me harder than I expected. My nails dug into my palms again, the sting grounding me.

“Raven,” Elias said softly, pulling my attention back to him. His blue eyes held that same glint of determination I’d seen the first day we met, and it made something in my chest ache. “You don’t have to decide right now. You don’t even have to decide tomorrow. But if you do want to fight this—if you want to take back some of the control he stole from you—you have people in your corner. Me. Mr. Farrow. We’ve got you.”

~

My throat tightened, and I looked away, unable to meet his gaze any longer.

Mr. Farrow shifted in his chair. “If you decide to move forward, the first step would be to gather evidence. Without it, it’s difficult to build a case. You mentioned that the assaults have continued recently—has there been any communication? Messages, voicemails, or anything like that?”

I shook my head, my voice barely a whisper. “He’s too careful.”

“Are there any witnesses?” he asked. “Anyone who might’ve noticed something out of place, even if they didn’t fully understand what they were seeing?”

For a moment, my mind drifted to Sophie. She’d been at my house so many times over the years—had she ever noticed something? But the thought of telling her, of trying to explain, made my stomach twist. “No,” I said quickly.

Mr. Farrow nodded, not pressing the point. “In that case, we’d look at other avenues. A psychological evaluation could help establish a history of trauma. If you’re willing, we could also work with a specialist to help recover some of those fragmented memories. But none of this is mandatory, Raven. The decision is always yours.”

The idea of digging deeper into my mind—of dragging up the things I’d spent so long trying to forget—made my chest tighten. But the alternative was worse, wasn’t it? Staying silent. Letting him win.

“I need time,” I said finally, my voice trembling.

“Of course,” Mr. Farrow said. “Take as much time as you need. This door will always be open to you.”

I nodded, standing shakily. Elias moved to my side immediately, his hand brushing against my arm.

“You ready to go?” he asked softly.

I nodded again, unable to find the words to speak.

We walked out together, the air outside cooler and sharper than I’d expected. I took a deep breath, trying to steady myself.

Elias opened the passenger door for me, and as I slid in, I noticed the way his jaw tightened, like he was holding something back.

“What?” I asked, my voice still hoarse.

He hesitated, then said, “I’m just proud of you, that’s all.”

“For what?” I asked bitterly. “I didn’t do anything.”

“You showed up,” Elias said simply, his gaze steady. “That’s more than most people would’ve done.”

I didn’t argue. Instead, I leaned back in my seat, staring out the window as he started the car.