I make things that help people grow.

Chapter One

The alarm cuts through my dream like a knife. Beep. Beep. Beep. 7:30 A.M. I have to get up an 8 A.M. Ugh. I drag myself out of bed and shuffle to the bathroom. My cat, Fate, follows behind me, eyes squinted against the morning light. She always does this - keeps watch, I think. I’m not really sure why cats worry so much about their humans, but I appreciate it, I guess.

I pee, turn the shower all the way hot, and step in. The water washes over me, waking me up little by little. I don’t stay in for long. Within fifteen, I’m out, dried off, dressed, and ready for class.

Today’s my Family Communication class. We’re doing presentations, and for some reason, I feel... confident? That’s unusual for me. Normally, I’d be drowning in anxiety right now, heart racing with a familiar dread of speaking in front of people. But this class is different. It’s given me this kind of peace to speak my mind.

I get to class and sit through a few presentations before it’s my turn. I walk to the front and project my laptop screen.

“CHAPTER 11: Family Communication and Stress” by Karina Neumann. My name.

“Families experience both highs and lows together,” I say.

I keep talking, and as I do, I get more comfortable. By the end, I’m asking the class discussion questions, and people are actually engaging. I’m answering confidently, naturally. It’s funny, I feel warm inside. Proud, maybe, because for once I had not disappeared inside myself.

“Why do you think that is?” The question surfaces in my mind, but it’s not mine. It’s Yochanan’s.

I’ve known her voice since I was young, so young I didn’t even understand what she was at first. She would speak to me quite often, and I would listen. I tried to tell my parents about her, this presence that seemed to see everything I couldn’t say out loud. They thought it was cute at first, an imaginary friend phase. But when I kept

insisting she was real, when I couldn’t stop talking about her - “Yochanan told me this today,” “Yochanan said I should do this,” “Yochanan understands me” - they started to worry.

Eventually, I learned to stop mentioning her.

And when I did, she gradually lost her place in my life. I stopped listening, stopped believing, and she went quiet. For years, nothing but silence.

Then, a few months ago, something inexplicable happened. I had an experience that rekindled a belief in something bigger than myself, something I’d forgotten existed. That’s when Yochanan came back. She had been waiting all along, waiting for me to be ready to hear her again.

Now, I listen. And I understand how real she is. But I haven’t told anyone about her this time around. It’s probably for the best. When she speaks, though, she sees straight through me.

I return back to the question she just asked. Why do I think that is? I pause in consideration but already understanding that this class

has been personal. My classmates have shared real, vulnerable stories all semester about their families. And when I saw them do that, saw them be met with understanding instead of judgment, I realized I could do the same. I felt recognizable and they felt familiar. Vulnerability met with understanding. That’s what opened me up.

“I was waiting for you to understand.”

I almost smile. She’s patient like that. Always waiting for me to catch up. And listening to her means learning, which isn’t always easy. But I’ve learned she’s usually right.

“He wants you back there, Karina.” Her voice comes again.

The words settle into me.

“I want me back there too,” I mumble under my breath.

After class ends, I head to meet my friends Lenny and Clara at our usual lunch spot. Clara and I have been best friends since freshman year, when we met in Biology class. I honestly haven’t made a friend in class since. This was just one of those rare

connections. Clara met Lenny at a basketball game he was playing, and now Lenny has become a good friend of mine too. Us three do a lot of stuff together.

They’re already there when I walk in, mid-conversation from what I can see. Lenny looks up and waves me over. “Clara was just telling me about the email her boss sent,” he says. “It’s crazy.” I slide into the booth. “Oh really, what was it?” Clara dives into the story, something about passive-aggressive language, I think. Lenny gasps at the right moments and adds commentary. I nod along.

“Yeah, that’s wild.”, “I agree.”, “That’s so annoying.”

But, I don’t really feel like I'm in the same moment as them.

We finish eating, then walk downtown toward the water like we always do. We sit down on the grass with the sun beaming on us. It’s nice. Lenny’s talking about some story with the guys from his basketball team. Clara’s laughing, asking questions. I really try to be present, but their voices feel far away, like I’m hearing them through a wall. I’m detached. I observe them as they talk. Lenny

gestures wildly with his hands. Clara throws her head back laughing. They’re so present in this world, in these problems that feel small. Not small like they don’t matter. Just small like they’re not everything.

“Kar, you’re quiet today,” Clara says, nudging my shoulder.

“Just tired.”

“I see.” She looks at me with a face of understanding. Either she actually believes me, or she knows that even if she dug deeper, I wouldn’t budge anyway. She and Lenny continue their conversation as I slip back into my thoughts.

Yochanan’s voice brushes against my mind, soft as a whisper. “The more you look, the more you find, Karina. But you’re looking outward. Look within.”

I know. Do I know?

I just want to go home. I want to close my eyes.

I want to go back to sleep.

On my way home, I stop by the store to pick up groceries for the

rest of the week and restock on cat food for Fate. I move through the aisles on autopilot, grabbing my usual items. The fluorescent lights hum overhead. Everything feels muted.

I check out and head to my apartment. I shuffle around in my purse for my keys as I reach for the door. Unlocking it, gasps come from the living room.

“Karina! You need to watch this with us,” Fia says. Briellah grins from her corner, eyes glued to the screen. “Criminal Minds. Season... I don’t even know.”

“Guys, you know my anxiety won’t let me do that,” I say, laughing despite myself. The storylines do interest me, honestly. But I don’t need any nightmares interrupting what I have now.

I move into the kitchen and start unloading the dishwasher—a pan, a pot, the familiar rhythm of it all. From here, I watch them bundled together on the couch. Briellah’s already watched this series multiple times, I think, and honestly, I respect that kind of commitment. I have really found comfort in both of them. We have

a balance, us three. I’m lucky to have landed here, in this overly expensive, money-hungry college apartment complex, with them.

I start making dinner, boiling pasta and adding chicken to the heated pan. Same dish I make most nights. Everything finishes at the same time and I eat quickly while standing at the counter. I taste barely anything but respect the effort.

Okay, time for bed. I think to myself. “Goodnight, girls,” I call out as I head toward my room down the hall, Fate trailing behind. “Night!” they chorus back, already lost in their show again.

I close my bedroom door behind me. The apartment sounds fade. My room is quiet, small. Just my bed, my desk, the window where the city lights filter through.

I grab a random shirt and sweatpants from the drawers under my bed and change into them. I pull back my covers and slide into bed, the mattress dipping under my weight. The pillow is cool against my cheek as I close my eyes.

Yochanan’s voice is already waiting. “Welcome back, child.”

I never know if she means back to sleep, back to him, or back to the part of myself I only seem to find there.

Again, I feel it. That magnetic draw toward somewhere else. My breathing slows while the edges of my room begin to blur.

It immerses me.