Chapter 7: A Language of Colors
Dr. Clara Bennett visited the estate twice a week for therapeutic play sessions. Rather than forcing Mia to articulate memories she had no vocabulary to express, Clara brought large sheets of textured paper, water-based paints, and sculpting clay.
At first, Mia’s paintings were dominated by thick strokes of black and grey, often depicting tiny figures trapped inside dark boxes. Julian sat in the corner of the room, watching with a heavy heart, offering quiet smiles whenever Mia turned to ensure he was still there.
"Trauma traps children in non-verbal sensory loops," Clara explained to Julian during a quiet moment. "The dark colors represent her feeling of confinement and invisibility. But watch what happens when you enter the canvas."
Julian stepped over to the floor mat and dipped his fingers in bright yellow and sky-blue paint. He gently painted a large, radiant sun at the top of the paper, then added a protective tree with wide, sprawling branches over Mia’s small drawn figure.
Mia watched his hands move with fascination. Slowly, she dipped her own fingers into the green paint and began dotting leaves onto the branches. Then, she looked up at Julian, her hazel eyes glistening with a soft, rare spark.
May you like
"Daddy tree," she whispered clearly.
Julian swallowed the lump in his throat, placing his hand over hers on the paper. "Always, sweetheart. Daddy’s here to shade you from the storm."
