"Yeah. I think Zoloft might be the only realistic option." a voice softly whispered. "I just don't feel comfortable giving a girl her age medication like that. We're trying to help her, not create a zombie."
As I opened my own groggy eyes, I was met with the blurry, bright sight of what looked to be an office. My head was pounding like crazy, as though I was the carrier of the worst hangover in human history and both of my hands seemed to follow the same train of thought while they throbbed in pain. Not a memory remained of how I got to this room or why I was in this amount of pain. All I had known was that my eyes were tired and I felt like I was just hit by a linebacker.
Pushing myself up from the couch my head seemed to be so peacefully resting on, the pain in my skull continued to roar harder than it had before. It was like time had been lost and I regained myself only to find injuries and discomfort, confusion and grogginess. Clueless and feeling somewhat empty, I could only sit in a daze as I watched Rebecca talk on the phone with someone.
Rebecca's chair gave a swift turn and her eyes caught mine looking at her. "I have to go. I'll call you back."
Standing, she ended the call and set her phone down before circling the desk. The expression on her face had spelled out every word for me as she eyed me down. It was as clear as day, she approached me like I was some crazy person and I had just done something horrible, something entirely unforgivable. Even my memory agreed with her, it seemed. It was so bad that I didn't want to remember it.
"Are you feeling okay? Hungry, thirsty?" Rebecca sat on the edge of the table.
Lifting my pained right hand, I was given the sight of a white bandage wrapped around my palm and up to my knuckles. My left hand replicated the process as I lifted it to see another white bandage wrapped around it. While it hurt less than my right hand, it was still in an obvious pain, and was clearly trying to tell me that I did something to hurt it. It felt like I hit something, and hit it hard.
It was scary, because I knew I did something wrong. I messed something up, but I didn't have the faintest idea of what happened. I had no memory of anything or anyone, no memory of what I did or what I saw. All I had was a black space in my head that gave me nothing concrete to see and nothing real to hold onto. It was just pure darkness that appeared before my eyes, nothing more and nothing less. Only the black of night.
Running a hand through my hair, I could feel the small trembling of my fingers as they combed through the various strands of hair. "Why does everything hurt . . .Why are my hands like this?"
"You don't remember? I suppose that isn't uncommon." Rebecca extended her arm with a bottle of water. "We had to forcefully sedate you, Lynn."
"Why?" my eyes shot up, somewhat angrily. "What the hell happened?"
Rebecca was beating around the bush, clearly trying to avoid bringing up what I had done. Perhaps she thought it was better for me not to know, or maybe she was just being careful with how she went about bringing it up, but I had to question if she knew just how scary it was to not know anything. I had to question if she knew what it was like to have empty spaces in your own mind with no answers, left utterly clueless.
"Joanna and Jay heard you screaming, and when they ran into your room, they saw you on top of Lucas. By the time an aide and I got there, you were hysterical, throwing punches at him, and still screaming." she brought her right leg over her left. "It was like you were seeing something else, and I think we both know what that was."
A small, pitched ringing raced it's way through ears as blurry images started coming to my mind. I saw a white and dark red, but that was it at first. Slowly, however, the ringing turned into distant screaming and exasperated breathing. Clarity took a step forward as the red clearly became blood and the person below me was Lucas being battered by my own fists, or so it seemed. Right and left, they rained down onto Lucas - or was it him - had Lucas really been the person I saw below me?
It wasn't - or was it?
Back and forth, images of Lucas appeared and disappeared with one other man replacing him. Rather, it wasn't a man. It was a monster, a demonic being donning human skin and pretending to be alive, breathing the same oxygen as humans. It was the face of evil. That evil was named Devin Herrera. His grin, that evil grin peered into my soul and ripped me apart organ by organ, bone by bone.
"It wasn't him." I shook my head, bringing my knees to my chest as I buried my face into my thighs. "It wasn't Lucas, it was Devin."
". . .It wasn't Devin. Think about what you're saying, Lynn. Who's here with you?" Rebecca moved to the couch. "There's Joanna, Jay, and Lucas. But what isn't here is a Devin. Nobody here is going to hurt you. Especially not him."
A small moment of calmness came as her palm sat itself on the cap of my knee, moving it circularly as though it would have some kind of calming effect. That same hand shortly after came to my shoulder where I could feel Rebecca lean in and squeeze it. Without a single seconds thought, my head shot upright and my arms soared straight at her as I pushed her away from me.
Right there, I think I snapped as I came to a long-awaited realization. It wasn't just being raped that was always going to exist within me, Devin was always going to be there too, and he wasn't going to leave me alone. I was always going to see his face in everything, in everyone for the rest of my life. His evil eyes, his grin would torture me until the day I would die. He ruined me and he ruined my life. He ruined absolutely everything, and I was never going to be able to escape that.
"Why can't he just leave me alone?!" I shouted through blurred, unfocused vision. "He already got what he wanted, so why won't he get out of my fucking head? Why can't I just live a normal life? I don't want to see his face anymore, I'm sick of it!"
Before long, the sleeve of my shirt and the palms of my hands became the towel my eyes so desperately needed to wipe away the falling tears. In that moment, my world reflected the shattering of the Hoover Dam as everything chose to hit me at once, flooding out any resemblance or a rational or coherent thought. I did shatter, I crumbled under the pressure of myself and my demons. Again.
I thought maybe I was going to get better, that maybe I could be okay for once, that maybe I could smile just a little without Grace around. Surprise, surprise. Just like I always always did, I fooled myself into believing the nonsense that I built, that happiness in my life existed. I was broken and disgusting, diseased beyond cleaning, and there wasn't a thing I could do about it - except put a bullet in my head. Maybe, just maybe, I was better off doing that.
If I was gone, then people wouldn't have to put up with the commotion I caused. If I was gone, then people could just forget about me and move on with their lives. If I was gone, then people could stop being disappointed with my every move, decision, or action. I was tired of being a disappointment to the people I loved, to myself, and the most important one of all, Grace. If I was gone, then no one would ever have to feel that again. More importantly, I would never have to feel that again.
"It might not seem like it right now, but you're way stronger than you think. I don't think a lot of people could stay standing after going through what you have." her fingers curled around my forearm as she lightly drew one of my hands away from my face. "I really, really want to, but I can't make him go away, and neither can pills or any other drug. It all comes down to you. You need to feel safe on your own terms and in your own skin before you can even start."
The weight on the couch was freed as Rebecca pushed herself off of the couch and made her way to the door. Locking it, she turned back around and looked at what was likely a nightmare of a face.
"I think MCET might be good for you. With your permission, of course." Rebecca slowly strolled back, as though being slow would somehow calm me down. "What Multiple Channel Exposure Therapy will do is teach you about your panic attacks and trauma, along with how to deal with them. Then we'll slowly start confronting your trauma, with writing and retelling it, with exposure to the things that trigger it. Simply, we're confronting your trauma head-on until it isn't scary anymore, until you know that it can't harm you anymore. We'll keep doing this until you know that he can't hurt you again. That nothing can hurt you if you don't let it."
"You don't think I've seen it every day of my life since then?" I stood up with the intention of leaving, only to have my exit blocked by her. "You seriously don't think I relive it in my head every time go to sleep, every time I open my eyes? It's fucking burnt into me, and I'm still scared out of mind every time I see it. What the fuck is therapy going to change?!"
Refusing to move, Rebecca stood in the way of the only exit. Me? I was a lot of things, just not good. I wanted to be angry, but all I could do was cry. I wanted to run, but all I could do was cry. I wanted to disappear, but all I could do was cry. As I attempted to push Rebecca out of the way, she grabbed both of my wrists and led me back to the couch, where she forced me back down on top of it. Only inches away, I was pinned down by her with nowhere to go and no way to get free.
"You've been using drugs and suppression to cope with trauma all this time, all alone, and clearly that hasn't worked well." she pulled her head away, just a smidgen. "Don't you think it's about time to try something else, Lynn?"
I was speechless at that moment. It hadn't been how she forced me down and held me in place. It also hadn't been how I heard her nearly yell for the first time. What left me slack-jawed and wordless was her eyes. Her brown eyes were full, deep, and knowing. They glistened with determination. Her eyes, at that moment, looked liked they belonged to Grace. It was as though Rebecca had stolen them from her.
"The only thing that's ever worked is drugs." I fought to hold it all back. "The drugs allowed me to live with myself, without them being my every last thought. I could just be f-fucking empty with no strings or attachments. I could just be numb and feel nothing. Now I don't have them, I don't have her, and I don't have anywhere to go. You wouldn't understand. . ."
"Understand what, exactly?"
That without Grace, I wasn't worth the oxygen I breathed. That I had single-handedly destroyed the bonds I held with people I loved. That I ran away from everything that killed me instead of confiding in the people I claimed I loved. That I tried to die without asking for help, without thinking of who I would hurt. That I chose to get high instead of seeing the girl I loved like was supposed to. That I chose to run and hide when she needed me the most.
"That I don't have anything left."
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