Page 52 of Ravage

"That's surprisingly a telling answer," he says. "One that I believe."

My eyes focus on the cabinet in the corner of the room, drowning the conversation out. "Good."

"The normal reaction to traumatic events is tohave a reaction. But you do appear oddly fine. Now, I don't know the particulars of what occurs downstairs, other than its medical research on mental health disorders. My instincts would tell me that they are using specific methods to observe behavioral changes."

Against my better control, my jaw tenses as my cheek twitches. "You'd assume correct," I answer bluntly.

He nods. "I don't practice that kind of psychiatry. For them, they would make a conclusive report that the behavior you are exhibiting now is a direct reaction to their investigations."

"It is," I say, rolling my eyes.

"I'm not done," he cuts me off. "In their eyes, they would seemingly havefixedyou—for lack of a better word.Helped cure mental illness."

My eyes shift back to him, somewhat curious about where he's going with this. "I'm not cured. Or fucking fixed. It's not that simple."

"It's not," he agrees softly. "And despite only knowing you for a few short months, I also know that your coping methods are a direct reflection of what you already battle with."

"Maybe I'm just getting stronger," I argue. "Or perhaps I'm used to being a punching bag for people that I'm conditioned to it."

His lips purse together. "We both know that while both of those statements may be true, it's not acceptable to be conditioned to poor treatment."

I shrug. "It's the hand I got dealt with, I'm afraid."

Dr. Smith stands from his desk, walking over to a bookshelf along the wall. He scans the spines, sliding a book out. "Do you remember what I explained to you about borderline personality disorder?"

"Yes."

Sitting back down, he opens the book, flicking through the pages. "While extreme mood swings are common, it's also just as likely that an individual might feelnumbness. They may split from a situation or persons, dissociating to take a step back from reality."

"Split?" I ask, confused.

"It's a defense mechanism to cope with difficult situations. It manifests in different ways, but essentially you view things in black and white, good and bad."

"That's normal," I shoot back. "The world is black and white at times. Peopleareoften good or bad."

He gives me an empathetic smile. "While that may be somewhat true, it's deeper than that. It takes away the complexity of things. People will often shut down, go through various phases of denial to avoid focusing on any emotions they may have about a situation. Coming back to my point, you say you are fine despite what happened. I believe you are protecting yourself, separating your mind from the Avery here in the present from the Avery that was subjected to cruel means of mistreatment."

"What's wrong with that?" I ask quietly. "I don't want to think about what they did."

"There's no easy way to put this," he replies gently. "But until you face what happened and process it, those feelings are still going to be there. They are locked away, but still present. The longer you ignore them, the more likely you are to experience extreme emotions that you may not be able to control."

I fall quiet, unsure what to say. I want to give some snarky remark or make light of the situation, tell him he's wrong. But nothing comes.

Taking advantage of my silence, he presses on. "Think of it this way—your emotions are water. You've put them into a plastic bucket and sealed it closed but there's a pipe, filling the bucket. It's manageable now while the bucket still has space, but eventually, those emotions will reach the top. And for a while, you'll still manage—but it will become harder. The bucket will be shaking, feeling pressure on the sides. You'll have moments where you start to get overwhelmed by the emotions shaking but you might be able to stop it temporarily by holding down the full bucket with your weight. But then, the water pressure will be too strong for the plastic. It will break and flood out. By then it will be too late to stop it because the water will gush out with nowhere else to go."

There's a knock on the door before I can answer. It creaks open, a guard appearing.

"Her session time is finished," he says, relieving me from Dr. Smith's mounting information.

I stand quickly, brushing invisible dust off me. "See you next time," I say dismissively, following the guard.

As we walk down the hallway, I spot Damon waiting, his eyes locked on me while silently daring the guard to try to pull any funny business.

"I've got it from here," he says when I'm within reach, grabbing my arm and pulling me to his side. "You're excused."

The guard nods, turning to leave. We wait until he's out of earshot before I plaster on a smile, looking up at Damon. "Hope you weren't waiting long."

"Come on," he says, directing me toward the library. "I've got a present for you."

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