Page 51 of Tortured Whispers
“No, he’s not like my uncle at all. Not like I would assume and uncle would be. That’s why I can connect to him so easily. I’m not close to anyone but him.”
“I see. He’s like your rock then?” Hollows asked, jotting notes down.
“He is my rock. I wouldn’t be sitting in your office without him pushing me. I need help, Dr. Hollows.” My voice cracked with the admission and I darted my gaze to the ceiling before tears fell.
“And that, my dear Brooklyn is why you’re here. Tell me what you think you need the most help with.” His voice was so strong and full of conviction. Like he lived for the moment his patients admitted they needed help.
Well, I was at that point and I was ready to turn shit around.
I slid my thumbs from their protective holes and pulled my sleeves back to my elbows. I felt beyond exposed. Like I was naked on the surface of the sun. I’d never done anything like that before but if I wanted results…if I wanted to change into someone I’d never been before, I had to do things I’d never done before.
“I cut myself,” I said. The room was void of air as Hollows examined my arms with his eyes. He never left his chair but you couldn’t convince me that he wasn’t touching my arms and taking in all the damage I’d done.
“Before I say anything else, I want to thank you for taking such a brave and courageous leap like that. It couldn’t have been easy to show such an intimate part of your life.” I actually felt pride and sincerity emanating from him.
“You’re welcome,” I nodded, pulling my sleeves back down.
“How long have you been cutting?”
“For about four years I guess. I started in ninth gwade.”
“That’s a long-term commitment. Why are you ready to stop?” He asked.
“I don’t want to huwt myself or the people I love anymore.” I beat myself up for mispronouncing my words but I pushed through anyway.
“That’s a really good reason to stop. When you cut…how do you feel before and how do you feel afterward?” He wrote down notes at a furious pace as I began to talk.
“I feel like I’m dwowning. Like I’m underwater and cutting myself is the only way I can bweathe again. It gives me gills.” My lips trembled involuntarily as I picked with a hangnail on my thumb.
“How long does the feeling of being able to breathe last after you’ve cut?”
“Not long,” I admitted. “Something always stwesses me out again. Nothing helps me permanently. Nothing except being awound Cease.” Saying his name was like a granted wish that pushed more air into my chest.
“Your uncle is what I like to call your bright spot. Sometimes, when we feel like we’re in the dark all the time, that bright spot leads us to the light. It shows us there’s a way out.” His eyes were so kind. I was starting to feel comfortable around him.
“Can you not call him my uncle? Please?” I asked, swallowing. Hollows smiled a little, then nodded before he wrote something down. “He’s definitely my bright spot.”
“That’s great. Hold on to that, Brooklyn. Sometimes bright spots save our lives.” He sighed then leaned back in his chair, letting the room fall silent again. “I’m going to leave you with a piece of information that I think you’re mature enough and strong enough to hold on to. Is that okay?” He quizzed.
“Yeah,” I nodded my head.
“There was this story on the news a couple years ago about a kid probably a little younger than you, Caleb Baxter. He self-harmed too. He got caught up in some silly internet challenge and ended up taking his own life. His parents were prominent people in the community so they were shocked when they found out. They thought their son was…normal for lack of better words. They were wrought with regret that they didn’t see the signs.
Now, they weren’t bad parents but they didn’t know what was going on with their son. It was like he was trapped in darkness. The same way you feel trapped underwater. Sometimes having a bright spot can also help to shine a light on your symptoms and triggers.
Don’t ever feel ashamed for your bright spot no matter who or what it is. Embrace it. Even if it never makes sense to anyone else. Okay?”
He stood up and so did I. Something about his words erased all the apprehension I had about him at first. Caesar was right. He was an amazing therapist. Instead of leaving his office feeling judged and angry, I felt lighter and contemplative.
I felt like I could finally take control of my life.
With a little help of course.
**
Caesar…
Brook’s sessions with Ronnie were going so well. I looked forward to seeing her smiling face every day when she came to my office after school. Well, after school and after she stopped past Ashley’s house.
