“No…they have to go through special training. You can’t just say he’s a therapy dog, even though I think—in a lot of ways, for you—he is a therapy dog.” She puts the pamphlet on the coffee table. “I’m sorry, Holly. I know how much he means to you.”

I blink my eyes hard, a dull pain throbbing in my forehead.

“There must be something I can do…help me think, please?”

Feather kneels down next to me. “Okay. Don’t get upset. Take a few deep breaths. Do you want me to get one of your pills?”

A sedative is the last thing I want right now. I don’t want to sleep—I want to be able to think.

“No, please. Just help me think. I’m not good at ideas, Feather. But you are.” I search her eyes, pleading for her to come up with an answer for me because I have none. I don’t know enough, haven’t learned enough yet to come up with plans.

She combs her fingers through her hair. “Let’s see…” She chews on her lip and stares across the room. “What about your parents? Could they keep Poppy for a while? Until you’re ready to leave here?”

A momentary burst of hope surges through me but is quickly extinguished when I remember we’re talking about my parents, who have never shown any kind of compassion to me over Poppy. Every time I’ve brought him up, they’ve dismissed me. They led me to believe he was happily living with a family. So either they never knew where he was and didn’t even care, or they knew he was with Tyler all this time and didn’t tell me.

“I don’t think they’d take him,” I reply. “They don’t seem to like dogs.”

Or me.

She sits back on her heels and meets my eyes. “Holly, I think you have to bring him back. He seems happy and clean.” Her hand gently caresses Poppy’s back. “It looks like he’s being taken care of, right?”

I nod, the tight lump in my throat plugging back my words.

“I’m sure he would let you visit him, and you can go back and get him when you’re ready to have your own place. I’ll bet he would agree to that. He’s obviously not a bad person.”

“You can’t trust anyone, little girl. Evil can hide in anyone. You brought out the evil in me.”

“I guess you’re right. I just really wanted to keep him.” I hold Poppy closer, not wanting to let him go again. He’s the only friend I had for so long. The only one who loved me. Without him, I think I would have totally forgotten what any kind of good feelings for another living thing felt like. Without him, my entire world would have consisted only of fear, contempt, and survival techniques.

“I can drive you there now, okay?” Feather offers softly. “I really think it’s for the best. You don’t want to get in trouble here or do anything to set back your therapy. You’re doing so good.”

Some days, I do feel like I’m doing good. I feel strong and brave. And other days, I feel lost and unsure. “You’re right.” I let her help me rise to my feet. Usually, I enjoy her snarky side, but tonight I’m grateful to have this nicer, more caring side of her. My instinct has been to keep people at a distance, but maybe Dr. Reynolds was right when she said I needed to form friendships with people to help me heal and move forward.

“Let me just get my keys and send a text to let Steve know I’ll be a little late. We’re going to dinner tonight.”

I gather up the bag of pet supplies and my backpack while I wait for her to return, and when she does, I notice she changed her clothes for her dinner tonight, and she looks beautiful. Instead of her usual baggy hoodie, she’s wearing a form-fitting v-neck sweater that actually shows off her thin waist and a small glimpse of the curve of her chest. We share the belief we shouldn’t wear clothes that show off our bodies—for fear of unwelcome attention from men, or people jumping to the conclusion that we must have done something to make our abusers molest us. I admire her pushing out of that negative mindset, and it gives me hope for myself. The mere idea of a boyfriend still scares both of us, but at least she’s trying. Once a man has touched you in an inappropriate way, it’s hard to ever imagine enjoying touches or kisses.

“You ready?” She puts her arm around my shoulder, and I let her lead me outside.

Poppy’s tail wags nervously as we get into Feather’s car, and I’m pretty sure he knows things aren’t going well for me tonight. He’s always been able to sense my emotions.

Feather turns the radio up, and we don’t talk much after I tell her where to drive. Instead of staring out the window at all the trees, as I usually do, I spend the ride whispering to Poppy, telling him how much I’ve missed him, how much I love him, and that I’ll come back for him as soon as I can. I tell him to be the very best boy, as I know he always has been. His huge dark eyes stay solemnly on mine as if he understands every word, and I wouldn’t be surprised if he did. After all, I spent years talking to him as if he were a person, and I even talked for him, in a voice with a slight made-up accent, so we could have pretend conversations.