The next time Eli came to session, he didn't wear the hoodie.
He sat stiff in the chair, arms crossed tightly, eyes shadowed, but something had shifted. A thread loosened. A door not fully open, but cracked.
Christian didn't push. He never did.
Instead, he waited. Let the silence stretch.
And Eli, for the first time, broke it.
"I used to think he was the only person who saw me," he said, his voice dry and low. "Like really saw me. You know?"
Christian nodded once. "I know."
Eli's eyes flicked up. "Then you know how fucked up it is… that I stayed."
Christian didn't answer with pity. He never did that either. "You were surviving. That's not the same as choosing."
Eli huffed. "Feels like it."
There was a long pause.
Then: "He wasn't always… like that. At first, he was nice. Gave me a place to stay. Food. Said I was smart. Called me 'special.'" Eli's voice curled into itself. "No one had ever said that before."
Christian felt that knife-twist of recognition deep in his stomach.
"And when it got bad?" he asked gently.
Eli shrugged, but the motion was brittle. "It's like I disappeared. I'd be looking at myself in the mirror, and I couldn't see me anymore. Just… his."
His voice cracked on the last word.
Christian leaned forward slightly. "Do you still feel like that now?"
Eli looked at him—really looked—for the first time. "Sometimes. But… when I'm here, it's different. Like I get to hear myself again."
Christian didn't speak for a moment. Then he said softly, "That voice? That's yours. It always has been. He didn't take it. He just tried to drown it."
Eli's throat bobbed as he swallowed.
And then, as if something inside finally gave permission—he said it.
"His name was Marcus."
Christian's blood went cold.
But he didn't let it show.
Instead, he nodded. "Thank you for telling me."
Because Eli had just named the monster.
And that was the first step to taking his power back.