Page 131 of Doesn't Count

“Self-preservation is a human instinct. That it’s natural, that there’s no shame in choosing ourselves over others.”

He rubs his chin in thought, “I want to be very clear that in no way am I saying that Damien Hixby was right.” The use ofFather’sreal name momentarily confuses me. Only until theheadlines printed it in big bold letters over the last three months did I actually know it. “However, self-preservation and survival are indeed human instincts. Nothing is ever black and white; everything exists on a spectrum like the care for yourself and the care for others. That needle never stops moving, but on average, Oliver, your needle hovers heavily towards others. That’s what sets you apart from the people in the cult.”

“How do you know?”

“Just my time spent getting to know you, your thought process. You feel deeply for others, even those that might not deserve it, such as Bordeaux. You are capable of sympathy, of empathy, of understanding, even love. If you were that far gone, you wouldn’t feel any of those things. So, as hard as this process is, trudging through your trauma, consider it a good thing that you feel what you do. It proves that you have a conscience and a soul that’s desperate to be good despite the few times you were forced to choose yourself.”

I consider his words even if my instinct is to dismiss them and throw them away. There’s no question about who I aspire to be, but my past actions and my perception of who I am now contradict one another.

I cherish life, yet I’ve stolen it from others.

I strive to find the bright side, yet I'm so blinded by the darkness.

I love, yet I’m unlovable.

“Who I want to be and who I am are on two different ends of that spectrum. How do I balance the two when I feel like they’re worlds apart?”

“That’s what we’re here to try and figure out. You’ve already taken the first step by being here and wanting more for yourself, wanting to do better. They say you can’t help someone who doesn’t want to be helped, but Oliver, you being here and taking your treatment seriously proves that you are willing todo what it takes to be that person you want to be. In time, we will get you there.”

“Is it selfish that I just want to live a normal life? That I want to go home for Christmas with Ash and spend time with my parents while the people I’ve killed will never get to do that? Is it fair? What if Ash doesn’t forgive me for the things I’ve done, for the harm I’ve caused her? What if, despite saving her, she doesn’t ever want to see me again? I... I don’t know if I can live with that.” I swallow the lump in my throat, the thought choking me.

“Take a deep breath. It’s important that you take notice of when your thoughts start to spiral like this. Don’t allow these thoughts to overtake you. Continue living in the moment, focus on how you feel. If it’s good, lean into it. Allow it to happen because you’ve spent years missing out on those feelings. If it’s bad, then ask yourself why you feel that way and think about how you can overcome those negative feelings.” Dr. Gillispie shuts his notepad and crosses his legs. “That is all the time we have together today. Homework for our next session, think of three things you want out of this life. Write them down and we can discuss next week.”

I nod, “Thanks.”

Pushing myself to my feet, I let out a deep sigh, my heart sagging inside my chest. It’s been three whole months that I’ve been stuck here in light blue scrubs and socks with rubber grips on the soles. I didn’t realize how much I was holding onto from my time with the cult, how much their depravity has affected the way I’ve lived my life.

Years... years I’ve suppressed myself, hid from potential happiness, ran from a much-wanted future. All because I didn’t want to risk thefamilyfinding me again. I’ve missed out on years of having my real family back, of loving and growing up with Ash.

I pretended like my demons didn’t haunt me, as if they were just figments of my imagination to be brushed off and pushed aside. Only, they plagued me. They possessed me. They ruled me. I just refused to accept it.

It’s time that I exercise them, put them to rest for good. Instead of burying Oliver, I need to bury the monsters that lurked beneath the surface. Dig their grave and carve their stone. Forever gone, but never forgotten. And then... move on.

Dr. Gillispie has asked me to take the week and think about three things I want out of life, but I already know.

1. I want to be okay

2. I want to love and be loved

3. I want to help heal those that are desperate to heal

Ashton

The day I watched Khaos being wheeled out of the hospital, sedated and all alone inside his head, was the day I was discharged. My parents waited anxiously outside my room while I dressed in the sweats Sam dropped off.

As if I was still a teenager, they hauled me off to their car and drove me straight home. It’s not that I wanted to be alone, back at my apartment where every inch of space reminded me of Khaos, but stuck with my parents wasn’t much better. Suffocating in fact.

My mother hovered incessantly for weeks, watching me with fearful eyes, wondering when I would break. What she never realized was that I was already broken. My parents took home an empty shell of their daughter, her soul tethered to another that was nowhere near.

The first week, I didn’t get out of bed. I laid there sinking into my mattress until the cushion molded around my form, permanently dented. Mother would bring me food every hour just to pile up on my nightstand, but she never relented. Whenmy stomach finally cried angrily at me for the neglect, I reluctantly gave in.

Day five, I showered. Then laid back down.

Day eight, I pulled myself out from under the covers and decided to take a jog only to get a breath of air that wasn’t contaminated by carbon dioxide.

Shutting the front door on their pleas to stay in and reminders of the horrors that lie just beyond was the most satisfying feeling I had in the last couple weeks. The silence was blissful, and the freedom was invigorating, if only for the few seconds that I forgot why I was back with my parents in the first place.

My legs moved of their own volition, bringing me to a place my subconscious never stopped thinking about. I stood still at the start of the dirt path that led deep into old memories and traumatizing tragedies. Yet, I still put one foot in front of the other, sinking further into the forest that changed my life.

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