Free And Then Came A Lion (Lions and Lambs Book 1) by Cecilia Marie Pulliam

legs with claws sharp as scalpels. Insensitive to the pain, Susannah increased her pressure on the beast’s throat. The animal weakened. The powerful swipes took less and less of a toll on her flesh. The animal collapsed and lay still.
    Susannah opened her eyes, rolled over, and looked at her alarm clock, again three am. She slid from bed, pulled on her robe, and snuck down to the living room. She eyed the furniture and then shook her head. She’d promised Mark she wouldn’t. Instead, she went out onto the back deck, took a deep breath, and let it out slowly. The shaking stopped. Her heartbeat slowed.
    She glanced at the sky. No moon, and coupled with a colder atmosphere, the stars shimmered with an incredible intensity. The tiny lights extended toward infinity, or was it eternity? Would her current state last the rest of her life? Was this the inferno she was told she’d walk through? For what purpose? Children were still being kidnapped and exploited. Her suffering had not diminished those crimes. Brian Falun still walked free, right along with all the other pedophiles. So, what good was all the sacrifices and suffering?
    The old Indian appeared beside her. “Starfish, Susannah.”
    “Starfish?”
    “Yes, remember the story?”
    She nodded. “The one about the young boy walking the beach after a storm, tossing starfish back in the ocean. And, a man walked up to him and told him how useless it was. He’d never save them all. But, the boy held up a starfish and said, ‘But, it matters to this one.’”
    “Yes, Susannah. Remember, Megan’s, Bobby’s, and little Mary Jane’s, lives matter. Each one, just as your life matters.”
    “Does it?”
    “Of course it matters, Susannah. Do what is necessary to heal.”
    He disappeared.
    Heal? And exactly how was she to do that?
    She moved back into the house, walked down to the den, and curled into her chair. How did other victims cope? Did they have compulsions to move furniture in the middle of the night? Did they watch old black and white movies until daylight? Did monstrous bears terrorize their dreams?
    The book Dr. Sekelsky gave her was supposedly stories about other victims. Maybe it would help.
    Susannah crept back into the bedroom and carefully retrieved the book from the drawer. She tiptoed back down to the den, snuggled into her chair, and opened the cover.
    You are a survivor, a victim of physical and mental carnage, none of which was your fault.
    Susannah bowed her head and cried.
    ***
    The waiting room walls did not close in. Her stomach remained neutral, no roiling, no butterflies, and the heavy dread, which usually lay like a heavy cloak around her shoulders, was gone. She almost smiled when Dr. Sekelsky opened the door, and instead of sitting on the furthest end of the sectional, she sat in the middle.
    “What did you think of the book, Susannah?”
    “The dedication made me cry.”
    “How so?”
    “It wasn’t my fault the attack happened.”
    “Of course not, Susannah. You cannot control another’s behavior. If there is nothing else you take away from these sessions, remember, you can only control your actions, your response. Let me repeat that. You have no control over anyone else’s behavior.”
    “I understand that, now.”
    “Good. Shall we talk about what happened?”
    Susannah gave him an edited account, leaving out her premonitions, separating from her body, and the old Indian.
    “You’re good at disassociation, do you know that?”
    “I don’t think I know what you mean.”
    “You separate yourself from emotions, disassociate from the pain. A good survival strategy when you’re in a dangerous situation, not good on a day-to-day basis. All that emotion eventually surfaces, one way or the other, and in between, you experience neither sorrow nor joy. But, we will explore that more in other sessions.
    “Is there anything else you would like to discuss today before you go?”
    “No. Except maybe the dreams.”
    “Okay, tell me