Raveling You

“I don’t know… I guess I’m confused and worried.” I fiddle with the leather bands on my wrist. Endlessly yours forever. My heart still races just thinking about that night, my emotions a jumble. That night had meant something. To me. To Lyric. To both of us. I’m really falling for her. But I still feel so guilty, still feel unworthy of her.

“Worried and confused about what?” The doctor interrupts my thoughts.

“About how my parents will react.” I realize I referred to Mr. and Mrs. Gregory as my parents.

That’s a new one... I don’t even know what to make of it. What it means about me. That I’m progressing? I shouldn’t be so surprised since I’m progressing with Lyric as well.

I trace the cracks in the wooden armrest of the chair I’m sitting in. “And I’m confused because… I don’t know, even though I love Lyric’s company, I’m still afraid.”

“Of what?”

I narrow my eyes at him. “I think we’ve talked enough that you know what I’m afraid of.”

He drums his pencil on his desk. “I know we’ve talked about a lot of fears, so I’m not positive which one you’re referring to right now.”

Even though I know he’s trying to heal me, I hate when he makes me say things I don't want to aloud.

“My fear that I’ve been sexually abused at some point in my life… At some point when I was in that house. And I’m afraid that I’ll never fully be able to get over it—that I’ll never be the person Lyric deserves.” My fingers curl around the armrests. “I don’t know why you make me say it when you already know what I’m going to say.”

He scribbles in the notepad the sets the pen down. “Because I believe it’s important for you to verbalize them instead of keeping things locked in like you’ve done in the past.”

I roll my tongue in my mouth, aggravated at myself for being so messed up. “So you think it’s been a good thing for me to go to this amnesia therapy? I mean, it’s gotten me to speak about stuff aloud, even though it hasn’t really done anything to strike up the right memories.”

“You seem really agitated today.”

“I’m agitated every day that I have to come to these amnesia sessions.”

He loosens his tie that has smiley faces on it, conveying happiness that never happens while I’m in these four walls. Our sessions have been about splitting me open and bleeding me dry. Coming here is emotionally exhausting, but as long as Lila and Ethan want me to continue seeing the doctor, I will. They gave me a roof over my head. Got dragged into a police investigation. Got dragged into a mess with a group of people who worship evil.

“You shouldn’t push yourself too hard.” He gathers a large blue mug from his desk and takes sip of coffee. “If it’s becoming too much for you to handle then it’s too much for you to handle.”

“The police aren’t really giving me a choice.” I anxiously jiggle my leg up and down. “Well, they are, but if I don’t do it, I’m pretty much refusing to help track down my brother’s killers… and the people who tried to ruin my life. They’ve been really pushy, too, calling Lila all the time and asking for reports.”

“I’ll suggest he not call so much the next time I speak to Detective Rannali. He needs to understand that these things can’t be rushed and that it takes time.” His phone vibrates on the desk, and he silences it without checking the screen. “How are things going with the Gregorys? You haven’t really said much about them lately.”

“They’re going good. I feel bad that they have to go through all this stuff, but they seem okay with it for some reason.” It feels late, well past the normal hour I usually spend here.  Out the window, twilight has risen and kissed the sky with silver stars. Usually our session ends before the sun fully sets. “Did we run late today? Shouldn’t we be starting the amnesia therapy already?”

“Yes, but Lila just requested that I spend an extra hour with you today before we delve into that.” His phone hums again. This time he picks it up and presses a few buttons. “She felt that with everything going on, you might need some extra time to discuss how you’re feeling.”

“How I’m feeling about what?” Removing my keys out of my pocket, I trace the jagged edge of across the palm of my hand, trying to channel my restless energy stemming from knowing that shortly we’ll be trying to crack open my head.

He sets down the phone and overlaps his hands on his desk. “The fear that your capturers might still be out there.”

“That’s not a new revelation. I’ve always known they were out there.”

“I know, but in a way, the loss of your brother has brought the memory of that back into your life. And the incident with the break-in—it has to be hard to deal with.”

“The police don’t know for sure if our kidnappers were the ones who killed my brother or broke into my house.” A lump swells in my throat at the mention of my brother’s death.

“I also heard you played your first concert.” He avoids my statement. “That had to be stressful.”

“Not really. Playing relaxes me more than anything. Lyric was pretty nervous, though.”

“Lyric, the girl you’re dating?” he asks, even though he knows her. Not only because I talk about her sometimes, but because she had a session with him after William assaulted her.