“Thank you.” Iforce a smile, hoping it’s convincing because the last thing I want is for him to worry about Lyra or feel sorry for me.The truth is, though, I do need a few minutes. I’m still feeling a bit drained.
He flashes me a small smile, his eyes still searching minefor something. I’m not sure what, but it does strange thingsto my stomach. Things I’ve never feltfor anyone. Things I don’t entirely understand,and I’m not sure I want to feel now. Then he finally turns, leaving the room.
I drag myself out of bed. The truth is, I would rather stay there all day. Stay buried under the weight of the pillows and blankets until this weight I feel pressing on my chest subsides.
It’s not an option, though.So I have no other choice than todrag my tail from this bed and do what I need to do to get through the rest of this day.
I go to the bathroom to relieve the pressure on my bladder. I quickly wash my hands, brush my teeth, and run a brush through my hair.It’s three in the afternoon here, and it seems a little ridiculous to get dressed now, but it’s part of my therapy. To get up, get dressed, and face the world even when I don’t want to.
It’s been a month since my last flashback.That one wasn’t as bad as today.I wonder as I sort through my bag if that means I’m allowed a pass. If it would be too much to let getting dressed slide. I’m up and out of bed. I’m moving. I’ll be taking care of Lyra, so I can’t spend too much time in my own mind.
But what happens when I put her to bed? When it’s just mein this ridiculously large suite, alone with only my thoughts? Not thoughts.Memories. What was triggered was a memory, and I’m still not sure what triggered it.
I shake my head. I need to call my therapist.
I walk to the nightstand where I left my phone. Picking it up, I quickly pull up the number and click the callbutton. He picks up on the third ring.
“Cara, how are you?” No awkward pleasantriesare ever exchanged when I call, and he always answers.
“Not as great as I’d like to be.” A sigh escapes me. One day away,and I’m already on the phone with him. It feels likeI’ve made no progress at all as I break down the events of that morning.
“What memories did you remember when this happened?”
I swallow hard against voicing them. I hate talking about that night.“I remembered being held against him. My arms pinned so I couldn’t move as he licked down my neck, telling me to watch.”
“How did you come out of the memory? What brought you back?”
“I’m not sure anything did. I didn’t think it was ever going to stop.” I squeeze my eyes shut against the threat of tears. “I kept hearing that word over and over.Watch.And I did. I couldn’t stop it, just like that day. I had to watch. I tried to close my eyes. I didn’t want to see.”
My breathing begins to pick up as everything tries to invade my mind. “But that wasn’t really happening, was it? You were really there.”
“No.” The word comes out as a whisper.
“Because that was a long time ago. It’s a part of your past, and the past can’t hurt you now.”
“It hurts me,” I admit. “It hurts so much. The guilt and the shamefeel like they will bury me.”
“Have you journaled any of this? Didyou do your worksheet?”
“No. I just went to bed,” I confess.
He chuckles lightly. “And tossed and turned, no doubt.”
“Yes, but not entirely for the reasons you’re thinking.” The words are out before I can stop them, but who else would I confess this to?
“Ohreally? What else caused the restlessness?” Genuine curiosity blooms in his tone. I can almost see his brow quirked high.
“Jake. We had a moment beforeandafter. It was strange.”
“And when you say moment, you mean -?”He leaves the statement open-ended, waiting on me to fill in the blanks.
“Sparks. I’ve never felt anything for Jake. In all the years I’ve known him, he’s just been my brother’s friend. Buttoday, it was like a strange pull.”
“Just suddenly?”
I feel myself heat at the admission bubbling to the surface. “No. Not entirely. I’ve– I don’t know, since that day in my apartment, I’ve felt this pull toward him. I can’t explain it. I just know I don’t want it.”
“I see.”
