Page 59 of Petals and Strings
“Thanks, Val,” I said, standing and brushing off the dirt again, though it was useless, smearing across my hands. “I guess I better clean up first.”
He chuckled. “Maybe so.” Then he was sauntering away like he hadn’t just shown me that easy kindness again that I was starting to crave.
It made me feel like I deserved it, that maybe I wasn’t just a broken, shattered soul, but someone worth keeping around.
That those alphas and that awful place hadn’t takeneverythingfrom me.
Why was it so easy to offer reassurance and encouragement to others, but so fucking hard to give that same acceptance to yourself?
I barely had time to change and rush into group therapy, arriving last. Ansel and Ledger left a space between them for me and I dropped down into it right as the new therapist cleared her throat.
She was small and seemed delicate, her body quaking as she stood before us.
The woman was terrified.
“I’m Trinity,” she started with a strained smile. “Your new therapist.”
We shared a look and tried not to laugh. She was clearly too anxious for a place like this, but I guess we all have to start somewhere.
“I’ve read over your previous therapist’s notes, but, honestly, they did little to give me any insights. So, let’s start by going around and introducing ourselves. I’ll start.”
She sat down in a chair, pulling her legs under her and offering a bright smile. It seemed so out of place in comparison to our previous therapist.
A shudder ran through me at just the thought of him and I focused on her instead as she started to speak again.
“As I said, I’m Trinity. Cat mom and big reader. I just graduated two years ago but have heaps of experience working in the city with a wide range of clients. I’m excited to get to know you all and, hopefully, help you find the peace you deserve.”
“Can you handle the truth of what most of us have faced? It’s not easy or pretty,” Ledger asked evenly. It wasn’t a challenge, just testing the waters of what she’d truly be able to handle.
She nodded, her face softening. “Look, I know you’ve all been through hell. I just want to help you find your way back again. Would anyone like to talk about how you’re feeling?”
“The meds make it hard to feel,” I started, not wanting to sit through another silent session.
I promised myself I’d try to get out of here. This was one of the only ways to make that happen.
She gave me an encouraging smile, urging me to go on. I swallowed hard, then continued. “I don’t want to have hallucinations or delusions. I realize now that was just a way for my brain to cope, to erase what happened to me. But I hate that I can’t just… feel things.”
Her look of empathy was nice, but I wasn’t sure she could handle the level of pain we’d all endured.
“Sometimes we need that edge to find a new normal. Imagine facing your demons without something to dull the pain,” she said gently.
“Alright, let’s test it out,” I mused, ready to go all in now that I’d started.
Ansel reached over, his hand locking around mine. Her eyes watched it, but she said nothing.
“When I was seventeen I was on the phone with my mom. We were arguing about me coming right home after study session, and I hated how strict they were about… everything. It felt like I lived in a boot camp most of the time. They just wanted me to do what I was told, when I was told to do it. I was only a few weeks from graduation. I already had so many plans for my freedom. College. The big city. A life I was in charge of. Then I was grabbed, while she was on the phone. I could hear her screamsthrough the call and for a second, I wondered if she actually cared.”
“That relationship sounds complicated, Audrey,” Trinity said. I kind of hated how gentle she was. It was too nice.
“That was the last time I heard a kind voice for ten fucking years,” I said bitterly. Tears were running down my cheeks now as flashes of that cell hit me all over again. More phantom fingers teasing over my skin. “And it wasn’t even kind. How fucking sad is that?”
Silence fell over the group as I swallowed down the worst of my memories, not wanting them to rise and overwhelm me.
Ansel gave my hand a squeeze, and when I looked up he started to talk.
“Mine didn’t even come to see me when I was pulled out of that fighting ring,” Ansel said. His raspy voice stunned the others, but his eyes were locked on me.
“Fuck family,” I said right back. “If they can’t handle us at our lowest moments, they don’t deserve us. We never asked for a second of our torment.”
