I’ve never really done drugs. I experimented in college, like most people, and I’ve partaken at a few parties over the years, but nothing in my limited experience prepared me for the ether. As soon as Leon injected it, I immediately felt it taking control.

The room around me became sharper and more blurred, the walls seeming to vibrate with energy. I closed my eyes against the strange visual stimuli, and a kaleidoscope of color exploded behind my eyelids, filling the black void with light. I felt lighter than air, oddly euphoric, and my already sharp wolf senses became even more vivid. In some ways, my body felt very far away, yet in others, I reveled in the feeling of the sofa’s cloth against my skin, or the new notes I detected in the distant chime of city bells.

"How are you feeling, Ella?" Leon inquired, and even his voice sounded different—deeper and more complex.

"High," I admitted honestly, peeking open my eyes again and marveling at how the painting on the wall seemed to be moving.

"That's normal," Leon said, nodding. "Is it a relaxed high or an overwhelming one?"

I paused, feeling as though my brain was on a delay. "It's a little overwhelming," I admitted, checking in on the corner of my mind inhabited by my wolf. She was sprawling peacefully, free of the aggression and anxiety that had consumed her a few minutes earlier. Instead, her tongue lolled from her mouth as she stretched and enjoyed the sensations flowing through us, even rolling over and rubbing herself against the ground.

I didn't need any explanation for my wolf's behavior, because I felt the same languid comfort and ease. My thoughts were quiet, but my body buzzed with sensation. I snuggled deeper into the cushions, wishing I were in my nest. I considered asking to move—everything there was so much softer and nicer—but somewhere in the back of my head, I was aware that this wondrous state of mind would probably be undone by the therapy ahead. I didn't want to ruin my safe space by letting something bad happen there. Still, I was so busy thinking about my lovely nest that I forgot I was supposed to be answering a question.

Racking my brain to recall what Leon had asked, I said, "But I feel a lot calmer than I did a minute ago."

"Good. Let's go ahead and get started," Leon proposed, leaning back in his seat. "Think back for me, Ella. What's the first thing you can remember of your life?"

"I don't remember a lot," I confessed, running my hand over my baby bump. "Not distinctly, at least. My childhood is kind of a blur—small flashes and an understanding of things that happened, but few scenes I can recreate in my head, you know?"

The words came forth much more easily than I could ever remember happening in the past. Normally, talking about my childhood was like pulling teeth, dragging thoughts out of my mind to form stilted words and incomplete sentences. I didn't mention that the scenes I did recall in high definition were the ones I wanted to remember least—the things that scarred me so badly that a single sound or smell could take me right back to that place. "The earliest thing was probably hunger. My sister crying because of how badly her stomach and head hurt, and me trying to sneak into the kitchen in the middle of the night to find something for her to eat."

"How old were you then?" Leon inquired curiously.

"Maybe four?" I guessed. "Old enough to have figured out how to sneak out of our dorm, but young enough that I hadn't figured out picking locks yet. When I got to the kitchen, my plan fell apart because it was locked, and then I was caught by the custodian."

"What happened when you were caught?" Leon pressed, taking me deeper into the memory.

My high transcended to a new realm, and it felt as though a door was opening in my mind. I wasn't sure I liked it—strange feelings rushed in, embodying themselves throughout my body in a way I didn't understand. I wasn't used to feeling emotions—normally I just thought them, aware that they existed but unable to manifest them completely. It was almost as if they were trapped in a glass display case… or they were. Now the glass was shattered around my feet, and a lifetime of wants and hurts came teetering out. I tried to clench my hands into fists, but I only succeeded with one; the other squeezed Henry's hand in a death grip. He moved his free hand to envelop mine from both sides, reminding me that I wasn't alone without saying a word.

I took a deep breath, and the tightness in my chest eased slightly. I was about to say that I didn't remember, but I realized that wasn't true. For the first time, I was able to follow this memory past being caught. "He reported me, and the next day I was put in the punishment box."

"What is the punishment box?" Leon asked, sounding concerned.

"That's just what we called it as kids," I sighed. "It was where they put young children who misbehaved: this tiny room in the basement, with no lights and no windows. They'd lock us inside and leave us in the cramped darkness for hours and hours. There was no food or water, no contact with the outside world. The longest I ever spent there was two days."

"Did anyone outside of the orphanage know?" Henry questioned, sounding suspiciously like his son had when I shared the abuse I suffered with him—like a man determined to find the people responsible and destroy them.

"The children weren't really allowed to interact with people from the outside. Sometimes parents would come to see if there were children they wanted to adopt, but we were always told to be on our best behavior—to be seen and not heard. Cora and I always hid when they came, though. We were afraid of being separated," I explained, thinking deeply.

"So you never met anyone from the outside world?" Leon asked. Although I could tell he was trying to keep the emotion from his voice, I sensed a hint of disappointment, as if this fact meant they were headed towards a dead end.

"We did later," I informed him. "After we ran away. And there was once…" I trailed off, feeling as though there was an image hovering on the edge of my consciousness, just out of reach. It reminded me of trying to remember a name or word that's on the tip of your tongue, only this time it was a piece of my own history.

"Are you remembering something, Ella?" Leon said patiently.

"I don't… I can't reach it," I huffed in frustration.

"Don't try to force it. The harder you work at it, the harder it will become," Leon coached. "Just take some deep breaths and let the memory come to you. You were saying that you rarely met outsiders, and you hid when they came. So let me ask you this: if you did meet someone, why was it possible? When did it happen, and why didn't you hide?"

"Because they weren't parents," I answered, without even trying. "And they were there for me," I continued, the blurry image becoming clearer in my mind. "I was eleven. It was two men in long robes, and they smelled so strange," I recalled. "They were tall and powerful; they gave off this energy that I didn't understand but which frightened me. When I saw them, something inside of me kind of crumpled."

"Keep going, Ella. How did you know they were there for you?" Leon encouraged.

"Cora and I were getting ready for bed," I answered, not sure where this information was coming from. It was almost like I was bringing it to life only after the words were out. As soon as I said it, I could see it in my mind's eye. "The head of the orphanage came into the dorm, and everyone scattered. They thought it was her, that she'd come early…" I was so lost in the memory that I didn't pause to explain. "I was the only one who stayed out, and the headmaster just smiled. He told me that I must have known I had visitors. They took me out, and I was terrified. I knew what happened when people came in the night and took you away. I naturally assumed they wanted to hurt me like the others… and they did, just not in the way I expected."

Henry's hands tightened reflexively on mine, but I couldn't bring myself to look at him, to see the pity in his eyes. "The headmaster left me alone with the men—he seemed very strange, as if in a trance. The men sat me down and told me they were priests of a very sacred order. They said… they said I had magic in me and they needed to suppress it so I could stay hidden." My eyes slammed open as the memory came back to me fully. "I think… I think they took my wolf."

This revised version improves grammar, punctuation, and flow. It also addresses inconsistencies and clarifies ambiguities. Note that I made a few stylistic choices (e.g., changing some phrasing for better clarity) that could be adjusted further depending on your preference.