College came next. Elo chose a state university close to home so she could keep working with the foundation. She majored in psychology, with a pre-law track. She joined a research team studying childhood trauma and recovery.
Her professor, impressed by her insight and lived experience, invited her to co-author a study on what helped survivors heal.
They interviewed fifty survivors, ages eight to sixty, from different backgrounds and experiences. Every story was different. One theme kept coming up.
“Being believed made all the difference,” a forty-year-old man said.
“The moment someone said, ‘I believe you,’ that’s when healing started,” a woman in her thirties told them.
Six months later, the study was published in a respected journal. Hospitals, schools, and counseling centers across the country started using its findings.
“You’re twenty and already changing how professionals work,” her professor told her.
“Really?” Elo asked.
“Really,” the professor said.
In her sophomore year, Elo met Daniel.
He sat next to her in an introductory counseling class, with kind brown eyes and a quiet smile.
“Want to study together?” he asked one day after class.
“Sure,” she said.
They met at a coffee shop near campus. At first, they talked about theories and midterms. Then, as the sun dipped lower, they talked about life.
“What made you choose psychology?” he asked.
“Personal experience,” she said. “I want to help kids heal from trauma.”
“That’s amazing,” he said. “My little sister struggles with anxiety. I want to understand how to help people like her.”
They talked for three hours.
That night, Elo called Sky.
“I think I like someone,” she said.
“Tell me everything,” Sky said.
His name was Daniel. He was sweet and he listened.
After two months of coffee and long walks, Daniel asked her a question.
“Will you be my girlfriend?” he said.
“Yes,” she said, surprising herself with how easy the word felt.
Several months later, she decided to tell him everything.
They sat in his car after dinner, parked under a streetlight.
“There’s something you should know about me,” she said.
“Okay,” he said.
“When I was eight,” she said slowly, “someone hurt me. They put wires in my head. It was part of an experiment. I wrote a book about it. I started a foundation.”
He was quiet for a long moment.
“Elo,” he said finally, “it’s okay if it’s too much to tell.”
“No,” she said. “I want you to know.”