The room was too quiet now.
Echo sat curled in the corner, arms wrapped around his knees, ears low against his head like he could disappear into himself if he just stayed small enough. The lights above hummed softly—constant, indifferent. They never turned them off, not even after the sessions ended.
His breath came shallow. Slow. He felt… floaty. Like his body had emptied out somewhere in the middle of it and forgot to come back.
The girl they gave him was already gone. She hadn’t said anything to him. She never looked at him. He didn’t blame her. He didn’t want to look either.
He hated when it was over. He hated during. But afterward was worse somehow.
There was always this hollow feeling, like he wasn’t supposed to come back to himself. Like they didn’t expect him to feel anything. Just perform. Reset. Repeat.
He blinked slowly. His eyes were stinging again, but he fought it. He didn’t want them to see.
Last time they hit him when he cried.
The door hissed open.
He tensed immediately, stomach clenching as footsteps entered the room. But they weren’t sharp. They weren’t angry.
Kitana.
She crouched a few feet away from him, lowering herself gently, hands resting on her knees. No clipboard. No orders.
“Echo?” she said softly.
His name sounded different in her mouth. Not like a label or a subject. Like… a person.
He lifted his head, just a little. “Hi,” he whispered.
Kitana gave him that quiet smile—the one that wasn’t for anyone else. “Hi, baby.”
He swallowed hard, eyes glistening but not spilling. “I was good,” he said. “I didn’t cry.”
“I know,” she murmured. Her voice wavered, just slightly. “You did so well.”
His chin tucked back toward his knees. He wanted to say thank you, but the words caught in his throat. He hated how much it meant—just hearing someone say that. Just being seen.
She reached into her pocket and pulled out a folded napkin with something wrapped inside.
“Look what I brought.”
His ears perked just a little. She peeled it back, revealing a soft piece of sweetbread—small, but warm. Still warm.
“I saved it for you from the breakroom. Don’t tell.”
He managed the tiniest smile. “I won’t.”
He reached for it, hands trembling, and took it carefully without touching her fingers. She let him eat in silence, watching him with that gentle expression. No one else looked at him like that.
“Can I…” he started, voice barely audible. “Can I go with you now?”
Kitana’s breath caught before she nodded. “Of course, sweetheart.”
She didn’t rush him. Just opened her arms slightly—an invitation, not an order.
Echo scooted toward her slowly, heart pounding for reasons he couldn’t name. When he got close enough, she helped him up, one arm steady around his back. He leaned into it. Just a little.
Warm.