The breeze tickled my numb, rosy cheeks. The beanie shielded my head from the onslaught of the freezing cold. The gloves protected my slender fingers that were gripping the handles tightly.

"Slow down, Zia," Cathie called after me, her breathing harsh and voice strangled. "Wait for me!"

I laughed.

William smirked, shooting a quick glance her way, struggling behind us. "No, you catch up to us."

She knew her husband wasn't going to slow down for her, that he would only tease her further, that's why she sought me. Unfortunately for her, I was enjoying my ride way too much to stop for anyone or anything.

She huffed, groaned, whined then pushed herself harder, willing her legs to move faster.

The wheels whirred, blurry in their rapid movement. Background noises filled the atmosphere around us and consisted of barking dogs, squealing kids, incessant footsteps, and endless chatter.

Saturdays were elected to become our cycling evenings.

I should probably fast backward to when all this started. Excuse my manners; I was having too much fun I forgot that you weren't there when it all took place.

Homeschooling was going well. We were progressing at a steady pace, faster than most but moving forward and doing our best to catch up. I enjoyed learning, studying, and doing research. William would laugh, explaining to me how most students didn't so it was kind of adorable and interesting that I was.

The unspoken reasons behind my eagerness were always left unsaid for it only made things awkward. To ease his discomfort, I would simply shrug and ask a random question, for the mere sake of changing the subject. He was well aware of what I was doing and would welcome it with a wide smile.

It was only when I started slowing down, procrastinating, and showing less enthusiasm that they realized something was missing.

However, if the Pattersons were known for one thing it would be for being the best problem solvers ever, because, that was when I was given my first gift ever as encouragement and reward for all my efforts.

Sometimes I would wonder if these two were mind-readers or simply angels disguised as humans, too observant and very generous - two saints sent to take care of me. I didn't deserve such a privilege but that didn't stop me from feeling appreciated and grateful.

The bicycle glinted under the bright light of the living room. My hands caressed the black leather of the seat, the cold metal of its brown frame, its dark handles, and its beige basket.

They stood next to each other, William's arm wrapping around his wife's waist as they watched me fawn over my gift, my own bike. I looked up, my eyes welling up with tears then flung myself at them with all my might they almost tumbled backward. "Thank you, thank you, thank you."

That night, I tossed and turned in bed; the giddiness and anticipation for my new riding lessons chased sleep away. My cheeks hurt so badly from smiling.

From that day on, after finishing my studying hours with Cathie, William and I would spend the late afternoons practicing.

Too many bruised limbs and skin scratches later, I finally managed to ride in a straight line without anyone holding the vehicle from behind or gripping my shoulders to balance my zig-zagging self.

"Go, Zee, go!" Cathie clapped while her husband kept relatively quick steps next to me.

"Good job," he whispered with a proud look and a cheeky wink, a couple of attempts later. "Now, do it again, without me by your side."

My heart dropped to my knees.

In my mind, his words didn't only refer to riding the bike. In a way, it also meant living without relying on them for support forever.

I didn't know where it came from but it was a scary thought to have when learning how to steer the wheels without crashing. A scary thought to have at all.

I couldn't imagine the day when they wouldn't be there with me, teasing me, scolding me, teaching me, or just being there, just existing alongside me.

I crashed into a tree.

I kept crashing into things no matter how many times we tried, no matter how long we practiced.

I was terrified of having to be alone all over again.

However, what terrified me more was how much fear I had, how tight it clutched at my heart, tugging and pulling at its bleeding strings.

What did I think? That someone with a past like mine could heal and live happily ever after?

The therapist was right.

Trauma will never stop affecting my life.

It was overwhelming, choking, scarring.

Maybe I shouldn't have buried it all and tried to pretend like it didn't exist. But, I was scared. Gosh, I was so freaking scared and clueless about how to deal with any of it.

Invisible scars were the hardest to heal.

Catherine had to sit me down way too many times and explain to me that I didn't have to do the dishes after every meal, that I didn't have to clean the house, that no one will punish me for not helping around, that I didn't have to validate my presence, my existence.

Yet, I always felt indebted to them, like I owed them something I could never repay.

"Actions speak louder than words," she said to me. "We'll do it together, okay?"

According to the therapist, breaking a habit, breaking out from the chains of trauma wasn't easy. "It takes time to heal, dear." She said, a gentle smile tugging at the edges of her wrinkled lips.

So, we did the house chores together. William would grumble, hating every minute of it but did it nonetheless. He preferred taking care of the big things: broken furniture, peeling paint, the little garden outside...

Catherine whacked him with a folded newspaper across the back of his head a couple of times. He would stop whining after that, only shooting glares her way.

The first few times it happened, it gave me a panic attack that slowly morphed into humor when I grew accustomed to their bickering, then occasionally joined in.

Catherine still let me do some things around the house, no doubt the therapist telling her so. It made me feel useful and helped me calm the anxiety raging inside.

I needed to feel useful.

All this came crashing down on me as I slammed hard against the wall, yet again. Would I be able to do it without them?

However, as I said before, if the Pattersons were known for one thing it would be for being the best problem solvers ever, even temporary solutions.

A week later, when my riding lessons seemed to be going nowhere, William brought out two more bikes from the garage, bigger than mine and different in color.

"We used to go cycling a lot," Cathie climbed atop hers - a light pink frame that matched the handles and a white basket upfront. It was cute and definitely suited her personality. "Slightly out of practice now, would you mind taking it easy on us?"

Her cheeky smile filled me with excitement despite the nerves gripping my legs.

"Zee won't be able to catch up to us, honey," Will smirked. His smug face irked me as he mounted his dark blue bike.

The start was rocky. I stumbled once, twice then toppled off one too many times.

"C'mon," Cathie helped me back on my seat.

"We're here, little one. We're right next to you." Will encouraged.

At first, I almost lost my balance but then I envisioned Will's hold in place and managed to wobble without connecting with the asphalt beneath.

We rode slowly that evening, close and united. Each one of them settled to a side - William to my right, near the road, Catherine to my left.

It felt like they were herding me somewhere. I laughed inwardly at the joke, ecstatic that I managed to steer the bike on my own.

"Baby steps," William reminded me on our way home, pride plastered across his face.

Later that night, Catherine was tucking me in. I could feel she wanted to say something so I met her green eyes. She inhaled deeply. "Sweetheart, you do know that you can talk to us whenever you want or need to, right?"

I nodded slowly.

"We're here for you. We'll always be here for you." She kissed my cheek, warmth setting her irises ablaze.

"In your mind."

Her hand stroked my hair gently.

"In your heart."

Her fingers tapped my chest tenderly.

"In your soul."

Her arms pulled me tight against her.

A small crack in me was filled and I realized that temporary solutions were small wins that lead to the ultimate victory, the final destination.

I realized that I needed to take it easy on myself, that I had to stop bottling everything in.

Realization was a small win on my journey to healing.