C.X. Turner

In the Places She Trusted

It began without her fully noticing. A quickening breath, a sting behind the eyes, the cold prickle of skin drawing tight. Her son—taller now, his voice deepening—moved lightly through the house, but not lightly enough.

When he appeared without warning—behind her, in doorways, along familiar corridors—her whole body braced. A scream would force itself out of her mouth.

Not because she feared him, but because something old had awakened: the size, the presence, the suddenness.

At first, they thought it was funny. He tried to make her jump. She laughed it off, and when it became a little less funny—when she lifted her hands to shield her body—she reassured him he’d done nothing wrong.

Still, she felt it in memory, in the house, in her body. Unsafe. This was memory resurfacing through muscle, not words.

Months passed before she understood what was needed to feel safe again. Not in her home, not in thought, but in the architecture of her body.

The one who lived beside her never asked: Why is this happening now, my love? Are you okay? They only smiled, rolled their eyes, as if this were just another of her strange behaviours.

So she began to ask herself.

mint and mallow tea
her hands remembering
how to receive

---

About the Author

C.X. Turner lives in Warwickshire, UK. A haiku and tanka poet, she is the author of evergreen: a collection of haiku, senryu and tanka (Alba Publishing, 2024) and anemones: a mini haiku chapbook (Yavanika Press, 2023), and the co-author of Building Sandcastles: A Book of Short Poems (Literary Revelations, 2023).

---