“Isn’t that the whole point of your job?” I arched a brow. “Figuring out ways togetme to talk?”
“Yes,” she replied evenly. “But you could make my job a lot easier if you opened up.”
“You’re getting paid to be here.” I shrugged. “I’m not.”
“Do you have somewhere else you would rather be?”
Yes. “I see what you’re doing.”
“A friend’s house, perhaps?” She continued to challenge. “Or maybe a boyfriend?”
“You’re the one with the notes,” I countered. “You tell me.”
“Have you always been this mistrustful?”
No.
There were moments in time, back when I was a little girl, that I thought I could be happy. Back then, contentment felt attainable. But darkness had a way of sweeping innocence up in the riptide.
That’s what happened to my innocence.
To me.
Everything went dark once the monster crawled into my bed. There were only glimmers of hope, fleeting flecks of sunshine that teased my soul. Until she died and took my last flicker of trust to the grave with her.
It had been two years, four months, and six days since they pulled my sister’s body from the water, and it had been two years, two months, and eight days sinceheleft town. Eight hundred and fifty-three days of beingnotbelieved and this doctor was questioning my ability totrust?
What a fucking joke.
“Like I said,” I deadpanned, “you’re the one with the notes.”
“How did your session go?” Mam asked on the drive back home. “Did you like your new doctor?”
“It went well,” I replied as I stared lifelessly out the car window. “She was nice.”
“And she’s happy with your progress?” She continued to probe while she navigated through the lunchtime traffic. “No adjustments to your meds?”
“Nope.” I repressed the urge to scream. “Everything’s fine.”
“Oh, sweetheart.” Mam reached across the console and squeezed my knee. “I’m so glad to hear that.”
“Yeah, Mam,” I whispered.I know you are.
“Did she give you any pointers on how to handle secondary school next week? Or coping techniques if you get overwhelmed?”
“I won’t get overwhelmed, Mam,” I replied with a sigh. “I’m not nervous about it.”
“I know that, sweetheart,” she conceded in a gentle tone. “But it’s going to be a big change for you, and you know howchangecan unsettle your mood.”
Yeah, I knew that, but there wasn’t a whole pile I could do about that. I couldn’t cut the bipolar out of my mind like her doctors could her cancer. It was apartof me. “I’ll be grand.”
“I’m so proud of you, Lizzie. I hope you know that.”
Yeah, and I didn’t deserve it. Her pride was misplaced because if she knew the real me, she wouldn’t feel that way. If she knew about my bad thoughts or the things Icraved, she would be repulsed. “I’m proud of you, too, Mam.”
“So, what else did you talk about in your session?”
“The usual,” I replied with another defeated sigh. “How am I sleeping? How am I feeling? Do I feel like the new meds are working? Oh, and she asked me about my nightmares.”
