2011

Mr. Jones sat at his desk, tired eyes rested on the papers in front of him. The weight of the tragedy hangs over him like a heavy shroud. He stares at the case file in front of him, the words blurring together as the enormity of the situation presses down on him. The clock on the wall ticks away the moments, each second a stark reminder of the fragility of life. The sudden knock on the door jolts him from his introspection, and he calls out, "Come in," his voice carrying the weariness of a thousand unspoken words.

The door to William's office creaks open, allowing a sliver of light to spill into the dimly lit room. In the doorway stands a girl with raven-black hair, the tips of it peeking out from beneath her hood. Her eyes, a neon shade of green, stay glued to the floor as she shuffles her feet. William's heart stutters in his chest as he takes in her appearance, his thoughts racing back to the day he'd first met her. She's grown, and the sight of her in the same orange hoodie is a bittersweet reminder of the innocence she's lost. "Raven?" He questions gently, his voice a soft rumble in the quiet space. She lifts her gaze to meet his, her eyes brimming with an unspoken torrent of emotion. Slowly, she crosses the room, closing the door with a quiet click that echoes in the silence. She takes a seat in the chair opposite his desk, the blue duffel that has been her constant companion over the last year sliding to the floor with a muffled thud. In her lap, a purple scrapbook rests, its edges worn and pages bulging with the weight of her past.

Raven's eyes finally meet William's, her gaze unflinching despite the shadows that cloud them. "Hi, Mr. Jones," she says, her voice a ghostly echo of the child they'd fought so hard to save. He notices that she's filled out a bit, the hollows of her cheeks less pronounced, the sharpness of her bones less stark. It's a stark contrast to the malnourished girl they'd rescued from her abusive foster home, but the haunted look in her eyes remains unchanged. She clutches the purple scrapbook to her chest, the pages whispering of happier times.

"You've grown, Raven," he says, his voice thick with emotion. "You look... healthy." He can't help but note the sadness that lingers in her silence, the way her eyes refuse to hold his gaze for long. Her lips form a tight line, and she nods almost imperceptibly.

: The room feels as though it's been plunged into an icy silence as William greets her, his eyes searching hers for any sign of the brightness they once held. Raven's green eyes, once a beacon of hope, now reflect the storms she's weathered. They bore into him with an intensity that makes him want to look away, but he can't. He's her rock, her beacon in this tempest. "It's good to see you, Raven," he says, his voice cracking slightly. She's grown, yes, but it's the weight of her experiences rather than the joy of childhood that has filled her out. Her silence is deafening, a stark reminder of the horrors she's endured. "I'm sorry it didn't work out with James and Lila," he says, the words sticking in his throat like briars. The couple had been a beacon of hope, a chance at a normal life, but now they're gone, taken by a cruel twist of fate. Raven's grip on the scrapbook tightens, her knuckles white, but she remains stoic, not a single tear spilling over. He wishes he could take it from her, ease her pain, but he knows that's not how life works.

"It's not your fault," she whispers, her voice barely carrying the weight of her words. The silence stretches out, a testament to the depth of her pain. She looks up, her eyes shimmering with unshed tears. "I just... I just don't know if I can do this again," she confesses, her voice cracking. "The home... the CSRD... it's all just..." She trails off, her words lost in a sea of anguish. The purple scrapbook titled "Raven Howards" is a lifebuoy in the storm, her anchor to a past that feels both a lifetime away and painfully recent.

William's heart cracks further as he sees the pain etched in Raven's face. He wishes he could take her fear away, but he knows that he can only offer her the safety and care of the system he's dedicated his life to. He leans forward, his elbows on the desk, and interlocks his fingers. "Raven, I know this isn't what you wanted, but we'll find you a new home. A place where you can be safe and loved. It's not going to be easy, but you're strong. You've been through worse, and you survived." His eyes are earnest, his voice a steady reassurance. "We're not giving up on you, and you can't give up on yourself." He pauses, the gravity of her situation weighing on him like an anvil. "But for now, you're coming back to the CSRD. We'll take care of you until we find somewhere suitable." His gaze holds hers, a silent promise that she's not alone in this fight.

Raven looks up at William, the fear in her eyes stark. She clutches the scrapbook to her chest, her knuckles white. "But, Mr. Jones," she says, her voice quivering, "you're not gonna turn me to the state, are you? After... after what happened with James and Lila?" The thought of being sent to a new set of strangers, a new system, is almost too much to bear. The CSRD has been a bastion of stability in her tumultuous life, a place where she feels a semblance of control.

William's gaze softens, his features etched with determination. "No, Raven," he says firmly, his voice a gentle rumble of reassurance. "You're not going anywhere. Not without a fight, at least." He pauses, his eyes searching hers. "I know you're scared, and I know you've been through more than any child should have to endure. But I won't let you be sent to the state. You're not a case file to me. You're a young girl who deserves a chance at happiness. And I'll do everything in my power to make sure that happens." His hand reaches out to cover hers, giving it a gentle squeeze.

Raven's eyes widen slightly, a glimmer of hope flickering in the emerald depths. "But what if... what if they find out? What if they take me away again?" she asks, her voice small and trembling. The memory of Lila and Rob's warmth is a stark contrast to the cold reality of their loss. She bites her lip, trying to hold back the tears that threaten to fall. William's words, though comforting, can't erase the fear that clings to her like a second skin.

William's eyes never leave hers, the firmness in his gaze a promise. "Raven, I won't let anyone harm you again. You have my word." He squeezes her hand once more before standing up and walking to the window, his shoulders tense. The city outside is a blur of lights and movement, a stark contrast to the stillness of his office. He turns back to her, his face etched with resolve. "But you need to trust me, and you need to tell me everything. The only way we can keep you safe is if I know the truth. No more secrets."

Raven flinches at William's words, her grip on the scrapbook tightening. The purple cover seems to pulse with the intensity of her emotions. Looking up at him, she takes a deep, shuddering breath, and the words tumble out, a torrent of fear and desperation. "Everything you know is all you need to," she says, her voice firm despite the tremble in her chin. She searches his eyes, looking for understanding, for a glimmer of hope that he won't fail her as others have. The weight of her past is a heavy burden, but she's carried it alone for so long that the thought of sharing it is almost suffocating.

William's heart sinks at her flinch, the pain in her eyes a stark reminder of the horrors she's faced. He nods solemnly, his hand still resting on hers. "I understand, Raven. Your past is your own, and it's your choice what you share. But know that I'm here to help you, no matter what." He squeezes her hand gently before retreating to his chair, giving her space. The silence in the room is a living entity, thick with the unspoken words that hang in the air.

Raven nods, her eyes still glued to the purple scrapbook. Her voice is a whisper when she speaks again. "Thank you, Mr. Jones." The weight of her words is like a heavy stone sinking into the carpet. She looks up at him, the shadows of doubt and fear playing across her features. "What happens now?" she asks, her eyes searching his for the truth she so desperately needs.

William sighs heavily, the lines on his face deepening with the gravity of the situation. He runs a hand over his short-cropped gray hair, the gesture a testament to his age and the countless battles he's faced in his career. "We'll find you a new home, Raven. A place where you'll be safe, where you can start to heal." He pauses, his gaze lingering on her. "But it's going to take some time. And you need to be strong."

A sad smile ghosts across Raven's lips, hinting at a strength that's been honed in the forge of adversity. She looks up at William, the shadows in her eyes briefly dispelled by a spark of humor. "I think I've got that part down," she says, her voice a whisper of resilience. She lifts the purple scrapbook, her mother's loving smile shining from the cover, a silent affirmation of her courage. "But I'm not sure how to deal with the rest." Her gaze drifts to the window, the reflection of the city's lights dancing in her eyes. "The... the feeling of being alone again. It's like... like someone took a piece of me and didn't give it back."

William's heart aches as he watches Raven struggle with her words. He wishes Peter was here to offer his unique brand of comfort, but he knows that sometimes, it's the stern hand that's needed to guide through the storm. He leans back in his chair, his eyes never leaving hers. "You're not alone, Raven. You never were. You have me, and Peter, and everyone at the CSRD who cares about you. And we're going to find a new place for you. Somewhere you can be happy."

Raven nods, her eyes never leaving William's. She knows he's trying to help, but the ache inside her feels like an unfillable void. "I know you're here for me, Mr. Jones," she says, her voice wavering. "But it's different now. They were..." She swallows hard, her grip on the scrapbook tightening. "They were my family." The words hang in the air, heavy with loss. She takes a deep, shaky breath. "What if I can't... what if I can't ever be happy again?" she asks, the tremor in her voice betraying her fear.

William's jaw clenches at the mention of Lila and Rob. He had felt a kinship with them, a shared commitment to giving Raven the life she deserved. "You will be happy again, Raven," he says firmly. "It won't be the same, but you will find happiness in new ways, with new people." His eyes are steeled, his voice a beacon of hope in the sea of despair.

Raven's gaze drifts to the orange hoodie she's wearing, the cords twisted around her slender fingers. The warmth it provides is a stark contrast to the cold reality she faces. She nods, not quite convinced but willing to hold onto the thread of hope he's offering. "Okay," she murmurs, the word barely audible. She looks up at William, the question in her eyes unspoken but clear. What now?

William's eyes follow hers to the hoodie, understanding the silent question. He clears his throat, the room's silence thickening the air. "We'll start by getting you settled back at the CSRD. You'll have your own space, and Peter and I will work together to find you a new placement." He watches her carefully, his stern exterior belying the turmoil within. The thought of her facing more pain is unbearable, yet he knows this is a battle she must fight.

Raven nods slowly, her thumb continuing to trace the cords of the hoodie. She swallows hard, the lump in her throat refusing to dissipate. "Okay, Mr. Jones," she whispers, her voice a mere echo of its former vibrancy. The start of summer should bring warmth and joy, but all it brings is a cold reminder of the love she's lost.

The door to William's office opens quietly, and a woman with a soft smile and a gentle demeanor enters, carrying a small manila envelope. She glances at Raven before approaching the desk and placing the envelope in front of William. "The Smiths' file, sir," she says quietly, her eyes filled with understanding before retreating as silently as she arrived.

With a nod of acknowledgment, William takes the envelope, his eyes never leaving Raven's. He opens it carefully, the sound of the paper crackling like thunder in the silent room. His eyes scan the documents, taking in the details of the potential new family. The Smiths, two kids, clear records. The words swim before his eyes as he tries to focus. He clears his throat, his hand hovering over the file. "Raven," he says gently, "this is the file for the Smiths. They have two children, a boy and a girl, who are a bit older than you. They live in a nice house, and their records are clean."

Raven's gaze snaps to the envelope, hope and dread fighting for dominance in her expression. She starts to say something, the words forming on her lips, but she stops abruptly. The room seems to shrink around her, the walls closing in. She looks away, her eyes finding solace in the warm glow of the setting summer sun outside the window. The cords of her orange hoodie are a lifeline, a tactile reminder of the comfort she once knew.

William watches Raven's reaction, the weight of her silence heavier than any words she could speak. He opens the file and slides it closer to her. "Take a look, Raven. It's important that you feel comfortable with where you're going. The Smiths seem like good people." His voice is gentle, but it carries the weight of his hope that she'll find the strength to trust again.

: With trembling fingers, Raven takes the file and scans the pages. The words blur together, a sea of information about a family she's never met. She reads about the Smiths, their home, their children. The cords of her hoodie feel like a lifeline, the familiar orange fabric grounding her as she tries to imagine a life with these strangers. She takes a deep breath and hands the file back to William, her eyes never leaving his. "They seem nice," she says, the words tasting like an unfamiliar flavor of hope.

: William nods solemnly, taking the file back. "They've expressed interest in taking you in, Raven. They know about your past and are prepared to offer you a loving home." He pauses, his gaze searching her face. "But I want you to know that you don't have to make this decision right now. Take your time. Think about it."

Raven's eyes widen at the thought of a new family. She feels a flutter of hope mixed with fear, her heart racing in her chest like a caged bird. She swallows hard and nods, her hands fidgeting with the cords of her orange hoodie. The scent of the fabric, faintly laced with the memory of her mother's perfume, grounds her. She whispers, "Okay, Mr. Jones. Thank you for... everything." The warmth of the sun outside the window feels like a gentle caress, a promise of better days ahead despite the starkness of her current reality.

***

The journey to the Smiths' home is a quiet one, filled with the hum of the car's engine and the occasional rustle of papers. William's thoughts are a maelstrom of doubt and determination. He keeps his eyes on the road, his mind racing with the hope of giving Raven a new beginning.

The car pulls up to a charming, two-story house with a neatly manicured lawn, the picture of suburban tranquility. William glances at Raven in the rearview mirror, her eyes wide with apprehension. He clears his throat and turns to face her. "Remember, Raven, if you ever need anything, you know where to find me."

As they step out of the car, the scent of freshly mowed grass fills the air, mingling with the faint smell of barbecue. The sound of children's laughter drifts over from a nearby yard, a stark contrast to the solemn silence that's been their constant companion for the past hour. Raven's eyes widen at the sight of the house, and she clutches the orange hoodie tightly around her. She nods solemnly at William's words, her thumb tracing the familiar pattern of the fabric's cords. "Thank you, Mr. Jones," she whispers, her voice cracking with emotion. As they approach the front door, it swings open, revealing a smiling woman with kind eyes and a warm embrace. Raven hesitates, then steps forward, the hope in her eyes mirrored in the softness of her voice as she greets her potential new mother, Mrs. Smith. Behind her, a young girl with a sprinkle of freckles across her nose and a mischievous smile darts out, holding a fluffy gray cat. "Is this Whiskers?" Raven asks, her eyes lighting up. The girl nods eagerly. "You like cats, don't you?" she says, her voice lilting with excitement. Raven's eyes widen, and she reaches out tentatively, her fingertips brushing the soft fur. The cat purrs contentedly, and Raven can't help but squeal with delight, a sound that seems to pierce the veil of her pain.

William watches the exchange between Raven and the Smiths' daughter, his stern expression briefly softening at the sight of Raven's excitement. He's never seen her react this way to anyone or anything before, and it's like watching a flower bloom in a desert. The sound of her squeal echoes in his ears, a testament to the resilience of her spirit. He turns to Mrs. Smith, his handshake firm and his voice steady. "Thank you for opening your home to Raven. I know she's been through a lot, and I hope she can find some peace here." Mrs. Smith nods, her eyes understanding and kind. "We'll do everything we can," she says. Then, as if sensing the unspoken question hanging in the air, she adds, "And yes, we read about her love for cats in her file." The girl, Rachel, giggles and whispers to Raven, "Whiskers is the best. He'll keep you safe." Raven nods, her eyes shining with unshed tears as she clutches the orange hoodie, the symbol of her past and the promise of her future. She turns to William, her voice a mix of hope and fear. "Mr. Jones, I'll be okay here, won't I?" William nods solemnly, his eyes never leaving hers. "You will," he promises. "And if you ever need anything, you know where to find me." With one last hug, Raven releases William and follows Rachel into the house, her heart racing with a mix of fear and excitement.

As Raven steps into the embrace of her potential new life, William can't help but feel a pang of sorrow. She's come so far, and he wishes he could bear her burdens for her. But he knows that this is her battle to fight, and he's done all he can to arm her. The door to the Smiths' home closes, the sound echoing in the quiet summer evening. He watches through the window as she's swallowed up by the warm glow of the living room, the silhouette of Rachel and Raven playing with Whiskers. For a brief moment, the weight of his responsibilities feels lighter, and a small, genuine smile graces his stern face. He knows that she's still haunted by the shadows of her past, but perhaps, just perhaps, here in this house, she'll find the light she's been searching for. The start of summer is a time of renewal, and he can't help but feel a spark of hope for her future.

Reviews

[Alice Reiht]

ignore grammar sorry heheheheheh