Page 112 of Doesn't Count

“Oliver, this is my partner, Jesse Overton.” Officer O’Neill starts. “Over there-” he points to the strange man sitting across the table from him, “-is Dr. Gillispie. He specializes in patients with severe trauma and works with survivors, like yourself. We’d like you to take some time today to speak with him and talk about treatment.”

A scoff slips past my lips before I can think better of it. “What makes you think I need treatment?”

Officer Overton clears her throat. “We make this recommendation to all survivors with traumatic pasts. Surviving asadistic cult would constitute as such and unless you’ve made the entire thing up, I suggest you consider sitting down with Dr. Gillispie today.”

My jaw aches from clenching until my teeth nearly crack with the force. I want to tell them to fuck themselves, that I’ve spent the last five years taking care of myself and I didn’t need a doctor to tell me what I went through was fucked up. I don’t need his pity or his long list of diagnoses. I’m perfectly fine and capable of moving on with my life.

The tender touch of my mother’s hand rubbing against my own immediately distracts me. My eyes find her fingers as she runs small, soothing circles against my skin. I can feel my heart rate drop back down to a normal pace and it forces me to take a deep breath.

“Yeah. Fine.”

“Good choice.” Officer O’Neill nods his head, sipping his coffee.

I let them take every bit of information I can recall, repeating the same story a hundred times until they finally accept it as the answer. At one point I try to draw the church that sat before a haunted forest and as much as I want my sins to stay hidden, I want just as much to desecrate thefamily.

On a map, I attempt to recount my escape backwards, hoping it can lead us to the general area of where the church sits, but it’s been a long five years of practiced repression. We create a circle that encompasses a very large circumference of potential and even though it’s just a start, it’s enough for them to begin searching.

By late afternoon, I sit down with Dr. Gillispie, who now has a decent idea of what I experienced while I was imprisoned in the cult.In just under two hours, I walk away with multiple diagnoses slapped on me like ingredients to my favorite junk food and years’ worth of follow-up visits.

Shouts demanding attention slither through the crack of the front door as both Officers escort Dr. Gillispie out of the house and safely to their cars. I watch through a slot in our blinds, pariahs swallowing them whole, hounding them with inaudible questions and assumptions that will make headline news regardless of the truth.

Cameras stay trained on our front door like a sniper ready to shoot the second their scope meets its target. Nothing causes my anxiety to fester like the attention all this has caused. All I can think about is whenthey’regoing to make their move. For five years thefamilyhasn’t been able to find me and now my face, my girl, and my house are the only things the world is focused on.

And the only thing I can focus on is Ash, who still hasn’t texted me back.

Yesterday 3:47 PM

I’m so sorry Ash.

I’ve always loved you. I might have lied about who I was, but never lied about loving you.

Just tell me you’re okay. Please?

Yesterday 11:54 PM

When you look up at the stars tonight, just know I’ll be there. I’ll always be thinking about you.

Ashton

An unhinged groan barrels past my lips as I chuck my phone across the living room. I watch as it bounces off the wall, leaving a small dent that I’ll eventually have to repair. Khaos’ texts sit in my phone unanswered, but there’s an irrational anger that fills me to the brim at the lack of messages coming through today. I’m not sure why I thought he would keep reaching out after I’ve given him no indication that I’m ready to talk, yet it doesn’t stop me from obsessively staring at my screen waiting to see his name.

Sam flinches next to me, my frustration startling her. If I wasn’t so distraught about my whole life being a lie, I might feel bad for freaking her out.

“What the hell?” She whines, growing tired of my outbursts.

“He’s driving me insane!” I growl, pushing to my feet to pace my living room again. “How can he just drop a bomb like that on me and expect everything to just be okay? I didn’t trust him, didn’t even like him and you know what he did, Sam?” She opens her mouth to answer because I’ve only told her ahundred times now, but I don’t bother to let her speak. “He forced me to trust him, to fucking fall in love with him! I fell in love with someone that doesn’t exist! I fell in love with a fraud! I was freaking cat fished!”

“Jesus, Ash.” Sam interrupts my tirade. “You weren’t catfished. He’s the same person you’ve known for the last five months, but he’s also the same person you knew ten years ago. I understand it’s hard to merge the two-”

“Merge the two? He was DEAD! I kneeled by his grave for years, visiting him because I was afraid he would be lonely. Guilt gnawed away at my insides until I felt like I was nothing but a shell of myself because I was the reason he was gone. I spent prom in a dress at the cemetery, wishing I was dancing with him to my favorite songs, desperate to hear how much he hated each and every one of them! Sam, I grieved so heavily that it became the only thing I could feel for years, and do you know who pulled me out of it?” Again, I don’t wait for her to respond. “ME! I pulled myself together and moved on with my life only to end up falling for a dead man with more demons than hell itself!”

“I get it, you’re shocked and hurt.” Sam coos, trying to get me to sit back down.

“How can you get it? How can anyone? I don’t even get it! He didn’t even have the decency to spare me all that heartache, to spare me from this heartache. He just blew through my life like an entitled God, took what he wanted, and left me empty and broken once again.”

“Maybe it would help to tell him all that. He couldn’t have known how long you held on for, how devastated his loss made you. He only knew what he was going through.”

No part of me wants to hear this. Rationality is not my friend right now. I want to sulk, to be pissed off, to rage. I didn’t want Sam forcing logic into my head because logic is afirehose that douses burning cities and right now, I really want the world to burn.

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