Jahsir’s body stiffened. I feel it instantly as his breath shifts, his arms tightened like he’s trying to hold himself together. I’m sure the thought of someone laying hands on me was a lot to take in amongst everything else.
“Crimson, I’m going to find out who did this.”
“Don’t,” I whisper, almost choking on the word. “Just... let it go. Life is short. I don’t want anything to happen to you.”
My brush with death, Scarlett, and the thought of losing Jahsir overwhelmed me. Saying it out loud brought my fearto the forefront. More tears spilled from my eyes. Jah didn't say anything, just held me tighter. His embrace communicated two things. One, he was here for me. And two, his silence is a promise. He would, in fact, find out who did this, whether I wanted him to or not.
jahsir
. . .
Crimson completely checkedout of life after the robbery. She was Scarlett’s mother and nothing more. Gone were the playful jokes, outrageous laughter, and excitement about her favorite foods. She was once again a shell of herself, the woman I met when I first got back to town. She moved through each day like a ghost, barely speaking and existing in her own space. Even the simplest tasks for Scarlett seemed too large to accomplish.
In the beginning, she sat up all night, afraid to sleep. But after days of not sleeping, delirium crept in, sending her over the edge. I encouraged her to sleep, but she physically couldn’t. We tried melatonin; however, it only made her drowsy and was short-lived. She was back awake within two hours. My mother had some muscle relaxers that she was sure would knock Crimson out. Zahara brought over a bottle of Cyclobenzaprine and even offered to stay and help with Scarlett. I was grateful for her help. Zahara and I rotated with feedings, changings, and taking Scarlett to and from daycare. And while that happened, Crimson finally slept. But then, that wasallshe did.
With or without the muscle relaxers, Crimson hid from the world. She confined herself to one part of my loft. She barely spoke and barely ate anything. She slept as if staying awake wastoo difficult to bear. She was only awake long enough to take care of Scarlett. That's when I realized she needed more help than I could provide. I got in contact with management at the bank to see if they were offering a support group or therapy for their workers. I was provided with information on Post Traumatic Stress Disorder and given a list of therapists for her to call.
Crimson didn’t budge. ‘I don’t need a therapist, I’m fine,’ she maintained. It wasn’t until different sounds started to trigger her. Sharp thuds, sirens from the street below all took her over the edge. That's when she finally realized she may have had PTSD and needed additional support.
Finally, calling the therapist, she spent the next several weeks in Intensive Outpatient Therapy. She eventually transitioned to a single therapist, one day a week. I tried to give her space. I overheard her saying she felt guilty that the new girl she was training got killed. She also expressed feelings of sadness, stating that if she had died, Scarlett would have no true biological parent who cared for her. That brought a moment of clarity.
Quite honestly, I used to side-eye therapy. I thought folks were just bored and wanted to hop on the newest trend. Shit, I even thought it was some shit people did when they didn’t have anybody else to talk to. For me, the idea of sitting in a room with a stranger divulging my deepest insecurities or feelings just didn’t make sense. But watching Crimson go through it changed my mind. She didn’t do a complete 180, and I didn’t expect her to. But I did start to see glimpses of her personality that I loved so much. She started to be more intentional about how she lived day to day. She no longer needed medicine to help her fall or stay asleep. Though she still had a ways to go, she made a ton of progress.
crimson
. . .
Today was different.I slowly but surely started to open up with my therapist. And although she’d been encouraging me to come in, I refused to. But something shifted when I woke up this morning. I felt compelled for the first time in a while to leave the loft on my own accord. With help from Jahsir, I had my first in-person therapy session.
It was weird being in person after being virtual for so long. So I sat with my legs crossed and my eyes fixated on a beautiful painting she had in her office. Hadiya’s office smelled faintly of ylang-ylang and patchouli. She also had a Japanese garden that calmly spilled water, adding to the relaxing ambiance. The scent, the water, and the dimness of the room were all meant to calm my anxiety. And while it helped some, I was still a ball of nerves.
Hadiya was more beautiful in person. She had warm, hazel eyes and sandy brown hair that matched her skin. She must have had a filter on our Zoom meetings because seeing her in person made me notice her tiny freckles. If nothing calmed me, her beauty and gentle spirit did.
“You made it. It's such a pleasure to meet you in person, Crimson.”
“Likewise. If I had known your office was this inviting, I would have come in a long time ago.”
“Well, you’re here now, so welcome. Is there anything in particular you’d like to discuss today?”
Every time she asked me that, my brain was swarmed with thousands of intrusive thoughts, fears, and replays of what happened. So, I said nothing because I was stuck. I felt myself in a constant loop of trying to figure out which issue was most important to address. After about two minutes of silence, Hadiya finally spoke up.
"Crimson, you mentioned during our last session that you feel responsible for what happened to the new girl you were training. Are you still having those same thoughts?"
I clasped my hands together and interlocked my fingers. My thumbs swirled in an ongoing circle. That was one of the many habits I’d picked up after the robbery. Since I could physically feel and see my fingers looping around each other, I felt in control and was able to focus my thoughts more.
“I keep thinking if I’d brought her into my office to go over some policies or something, that maybe she wouldn’t have gotten shot. I also fe-” I choked up. “I feel that maybe they really wanted to shoot me. I don’t know.” My voice cracked and I trailed off a little. Hadiya was good at not bombarding me with questions. She listened, took notes, and gave me space to speak freely.
“I feel so bad, because I was annoyed that day since I had to train her. I was trying to rush and cram everything at one time so I could have a more laid-back afternoon. I just wanted to get to the evening that Jah had planned for me. I rushed for no reason, because we never got to our romantic getaway. And now she’s dead.”
I repositioned myself on the couch as the room seemed to have warmed up a bit. I took a sip of water and closed my eyesas it went down my throat.Stop it, Crim, Stop. I told myself as a flashback of blood splattering on my face bombarded my thoughts.
“Is it happening again?”
“Yes.”
“What did we talk about?” Hadiya asked. I knew she was referring to grounding techniques. She told me that whenever I become overwhelmed with unwanted thoughts, I should practice grounding techniques. Silently, I went through the steps of the Body Awareness one. In about two minutes, my thoughts disappeared, and I was able to refocus.
“Better?” She asked.
