Chapter 13: Figure it out

Figure it out

  Drew finally went home after I convinced him I was going to be okay. He retracted his request to be replaced in my therapy, but whatever we had was still in question. I had to go to my psychiatrist in the morning, so I settled in early, opting to take one of the sleeping meds I had prescribed for the CPTSD they diagnosed me with, along with all the other meds I was supposed to take daily.

  'Supposed to' was the principal theme. I did try to take some of them. The numbness was too much for me to take the meds I was taking before the incident. I'd rather deal with the swings than to never be able to feel things. There were complications, of course, but I think I've handled it pretty well. I still have delusions sometimes, but that was something I had grown used to. I could recognize what I should think, but the other thoughts persisted.

  The meds always take away my dreams, and I couldn't have that.

  I slept like death, which was welcome for once. I couldn't take the constant barrage of anxiety dreams, most involving whatever Drew and I were working towards. But I did miss my comfort dreams, laying in his arms, dreaming of his cool, comforting touch. The mark on my neck radiating peace...

  I struggled to get myself psyched up for this meeting. I really didn't care for the woman assigned to me, although I knew how to manipulate her into thinking everything was okay. Again, I tried at first, but she just kept sending me more medications to make it seem unreal to me. People have been trying to quiet my mind since I was a child, and I was tired of it.

  Unfortunately, they didn't allow me to drive, so I had to take the bus. Sometimes Drew would take me, but I think we all needed a break. He wouldn't admit it, but he was overwhelmed. I really dropped a lot on his plate. Part of me was worried he would bail, but the other side of me kind of knew it would be better if he did.

  The bus ride was nearly an hour each way, so I popped in my earbuds, finding a pleasant corner to hide in. Watching all the different kinds of people in this city, the young, the poor, the rich and the old... I really disliked people. All of them were trash in their own way... I rolled my eyes, biding my time, disassociating hard. Before I knew it, I had overshot my stop by 10 blocks. I panicked, smashing the button, running for the middle exit.

  I hit the sidewalk, already exhausted, trekking slowly the rest of the way. By time I landed in the chair, I was already 30 minutes late. Her dull brown eyes stared me down, like always, "I almost discounted you for the session, Ms. Bourete. How are things?"

  Resisting the urge to roll my eyes, "Good." I responded plainly.

  "Any issues since our last session?"

  I shook my head.

  "Okay," she said, writing in her notepad, "What about your physical therapy? How is the recovery going?"

  "Great." I said, a little more enthused, shifting a little, wishing this was over.

  She took a few more notes, "Well Kavielle, you've made some serious strides to overcome the delusions you dealt with when you first awoke, but I am still concerned with your ability to socialize and reintegrate yourself to society..." She flipped through a few sheets, looking for something, "You only really talk about 2 people, one is your physical therapist, and the other your roommate. Have you made any attempts to create new relationships since we last met? Went anywhere, met anyone?"

  I shook my head again. "Still focusing on getting physically better and working on my studies."

  She took another note, turning to me, "I'm really worried about you Kavielle, you're not emotionally balanced. You've spent all this time hiding from the world, mourning the time you lost, but all you've done is waste even more. I'm not sure if you can really get better unless you find a way to fit in."

  This was the same things she says in every session... "Um, I may have started a romantic relationship." I said, hoping it would buy me some peace.

  "Oh really? Does this person have a name? Where did you meet?"

  "I don't think that matters," I muttered.

  She leaned forward. "I think you're lying. You just want me to quit lecturing about the need for socialization."

  "It's Drew," I conceded, avoiding her judgmental eyes.

  "Oh, well, that's interesting. When did this begin?" she sat back, taking more notes.

  "Recently."

  "Does he use his position as your therapist to pressure you into a sexual relationship? Is this reciprocated, or is there any chance he's taking advantage of you?"

  I laughed. "That's ridiculous."

  "It's not though, there's plenty of cases where patients start to idolize their caretakers, even develop false feelings for them, similar to Stockholm Syndrome. They feel like they are the only people that want to be with them, and they use that to gain sexual favors." She stated matter of fact. "I know you've told me before you and Drew were close and spent time outside of therapy together, which I warned against."

  "You know what? I think these sessions are a waste of time." I stood up.

  "Kavielle, please, sit down. I know you're upset, but it's important that you are looking at this relationship for what it is. "

  "What it is!" I started, unable to control my temper. "It's a fling at best. He's still my friend and has been for a long time."

  "I am afraid you are being groomed."

  "Groomed?! You're acting like he's some kind of monster!"

  "Prove me wrong." She said, calmly, "tell me about how this relationship started. When did you first realize you had feelings for him?"

  I sat back down; I knew getting my medical release; I had to complete these sessions. "Drew, and I built a friendship. We have a lot in common."

  "So, was there a spark from the beginning?"

  I chuckled. "Have you seen Drew?" She looked at me, her face stern. "It just turned into something else recently, like yesterday." She just nodded, and I continued, "He's handsome and kind. He has a great sense of humor, and we get along pretty well."

  "Have you harbored feelings for him this entire time?"

  "No, it kind of caught me off guard, honestly." I shot back.

  "Okay, don't get defensive. I just want to understand how this came to be? I am looking out for your best interest, Kavielle, not trying to downplay your progress." She said, matter of fact again.

  I huffed, closing my eyes. "It could be a thing, then maybe it won't be. I have a lot of baggage, and I'm not sure if he can handle it all."

  She sat for a moment, tapping her pen. "You have been building this relationship for months. I think he would have come to terms before he opened up to the idea of being in a romantic relationship, would he not?"

  I looked at her. She was staring me down. I admitted quietly, "We didn't talk about it until recently."

  "But why not? He's your friend, a medical professional. Isn't this something he should know?" She questioned.

  "He didn't dig into it. According to him, he was focused on my recovery." I breathed.

  "Doesn't sound like you believe that?" She quipped, writing in her notebook again.

  "I want to, but I also know that what happened to me kind of makes me a lesser person now." I said, mirroring her tone.

  "No, it does not. Woman are in a sexual revolution, it's no longer seen as wrong for being sexual." She put a little inflection in her voice, "What happened to you was tragic, and you are not lesser for being a victim of a heinous crime, Kavielle." I didn't respond. She wrote a few more notes, sitting down in the notebook. "Somehow, I thought you had come to terms with what you are now, but it seems like maybe you still have some way to go. I think we should meet once a week again, just for a little while, while you work through this thing with your new boyfriend."

  "I'm not going to talk with you about my love life."

  "Well, then maybe we'll go up to twice a week..."

  I sighed, kicking myself for the little I did say to her, "I don't think our sessions help me very much. Coming more just takes away from the rest of my recovery."

  She sat for a moment, the timer sounding, "Well, I will make a deal with you Kavielle, I will keep us at twice a month, but if you and Drew are still together when it's time for next session, you will bring him with you."

  My heart thumped, anxiety overwhelming me. "I don't know if he'll want to do something like that."

  "Well, from what you've told me, I bet if you ask him, he'd be willing." She paused for a moment. "Our time is up, but I hope you will consider it. I think it would be good to get to know him a little."

  We both stood now. She reached her hand out for a shake. I ignored her, opting to head out. How dare this bitch think she can control me, make me come see her more? Sadly, because I was still considered a ward of the state, she actually can.

  I made my way to the bus station. It seemed to be much hotter now than earlier. I opted to shed my sweatshirt, leaving me in a tank top. I felt like every eye was on me, my collar bone protruded too much, my skin too white... My breasts were not as full as I would expect they would be... A few minutes later, my phone dings as I curl into myself, avoiding making eye contact with the people at the stop.

  It was Madison. It simply said, "We have a problem."

  Nervous, my anxiety already through the roof, I messaged back, "What's wrong? Are you okay?"

  A picture came through next, it taking a little too long to load; my heart in my throat. The picture was of Drew, sitting at a café, holding some woman's hand across the table. It looked like he was speaking, leaning into her. I didn't know how to react. She messaged again, "I'm sorry, babe. I really had no idea he had a girlfriend. Are you okay?"

  Girlfriend?

  I felt sick, waves of rejection rolling through me. I couldn't even respond. I felt myself shut down. Time seemed to freeze. I had to focus on breathing. A sharp pain shot into my chest, almost doubling me over. It wouldn't stop, again and again and again. It pulsed through my body. Breathing seemed impossible now. I looked up, the surrounding people gone, the bus already out of sight. In my panic, I started walking.

  One foot after another, my brain focused on moving forward, taking quick breaths. I just needed to get home. It didn't matter; he was better off away from me... He deserved happiness, and that wasn't going to be with me... Tears welled in my eyes. I stopped paying attention to anything. I walked zombified for nearly an hour; the tears refusing to stop, no matter how many times I told myself it was for the best. It had to be for the best.

  I had to figure it out, how I would deal with losing something I never really had.

  That was my last thought before the darkness washed over me.