Page 17 of In Her Path

Dr. White smiled. “Just sit comfortably, close your eyes if you’d like, and breathe. I’ll guide you through the rest.”

It sounded deceptively simple. Piper settled back in her chair, trying to relax. After a moment’s hesitation, she closed her eyes.

“Good,” Dr. White said, her voice taking on a soothing quality. “Now, just focus on your breathing. In through your nose, out through your mouth. That’s it.”

Piper followed the instructions, feeling self-conscious but willing to try. The rhythm of her breathing began to slow, matching the gentle cadence of Dr. White’s guidance.

“Now,” Dr. White continued, “I want you to imagine a place that makes you feel safe. Somewhere you can retreat to when you need to center yourself.”

Without conscious thought, Piper’s mind conjured an image of the well in Whispering Pines Forest. The ancient stones covered in moss, the cool darkness of the shaft, the sense of history and mystery. It wasn’t exactly a comforting image, yet something about it called to her.

“I see it,” she murmured.

“Good,” Dr. White said. “Now, imagine reaching out from that safe place. Not physically—with your mind. Like extending a hand in the dark.”

Piper tried to follow, visualizing the mental equivalent of reaching into empty space. At first, there was nothing—just the familiar void where the voices should be. Then, almost imperceptibly, she sensed a presence—distant, watchful, waiting.

“They’re there,” she whispered, her heart quickening.

“Don’t push,” Dr. White cautioned. “Just acknowledge them.”

Hello, Piper thought, the word forming tentatively in her mind. I can feel you there.

For a long moment, nothing happened. Then, like the first notes of a melody, a whisper reached her.

We’re here.

Relief and apprehension flooded through Piper in equal measure. They hadn’t left—but they’d been keeping their distance.

Why did you go away? she asked silently.

Another pause, longer this time. Then, a chorus of voices, overlapping but unified:

You were afraid.

The simple statement hit Piper with unexpected force. She had been afraid—terrified, really—of what the voices might do next. After her long years away from home, after the incident with Loyalynne, after seeing how easily reality could be manipulated, she’d retreated behind walls of medication and denial.

But I’m not afraid now, she thought, the lie obvious even to herself.

Yes, you are, the voices replied. You fear us.

Piper’s throat tightened. They were right.

“I can’t do this,” she said aloud, her eyes flying open. “I’m sorry, Dr. White, but I can’t.”

Dr. White regarded her with gentle understanding. “It’s alright, Piper. This is difficult work.”

“No, you don’t understand.” Piper sat forward, urgency driving her words. “They know I’m afraid of them. They’re staying away because they think I don’t want them around.”

“Ah,” Dr. White said softly. “That makes sense.”

“It does?”

“From what you’ve told me about these voices, they’ve always been responsive to your emotional state. When you were confused and frightened as a teenager, they reflected that confusion back to you. As you’ve begun to heal, to establish your identity again, they’ve become more stable as well. Perhaps it would help to clarify things now—to consider exactly what you do want from them.”

Piper shifted uneasily. The thought of inviting the voices back was terrifying—but so was the prospect of continuing without them. They had been part of her life for as long as she could remember and she did believe they could be helpful.

“I’ll try,” she said finally. “But I need to know they won’t turn dark again.”