Page 54 of One Foggy Christmas
“It’s okay, I guess. It means losing almost four years off of my life, but I have to move forward as best as I can.” I smile, showing stability in hopes that I’ll pass this test with flying colors and be released.
Dr. Hatchet sits back, narrowing her eyes. “While I appreciate your positivity in a horrible situation, I’m not sure your answer is truthful.”
I scratch my ear then fidget with the lobe, tugging it down nervously. “I don’t know what you mean.”
“You woke up from a coma, and everything is different. You live in a different city than you expected, you have a differentjob, and the biggest change is that you’re married to a man you don’t know. You have to have some feelings about that.”
“Anger,” I finally say.
She nods, encouraging me along. “Who are you angry with?”
I fold my arms, glancing away. I’ve never been great at expressing myself and telling people how I feel. Not even Stetson got the full scope of how I really felt. The vulnerability leaves your heart wide open for someone to pierce. I’d rather keep it hidden and protected, but staying silent now might not help me get discharged.
“It’s okay to feel anger,” she reassures.
“I’m angry at myself.”
“Why?”
I clasp my fingers together in my lap as if it will help keep my emotions in check. “I don’t like the choices I made or the life I was living.”
“What don’t you like about it?”
“For starters, I abandoned my family. I hurt the people I loved.” Stetson’s face runs through my mind. “None of this is what I wanted. I had a plan, and I’m angry with myself for deviating so far from that plan.”
“How do you know that the deviations were bad? Maybe those choices were the best ones you could’ve made at the time and made you the happiest.”
“I know myself, and I know they weren’t. I probably wasn’t even happy the last three and a half years. That could explain why I blocked it all out.”
“Why are you assuming the worst about yourself?”
My brows drop as my defenses rise. “What do you mean?”
“Why are you assuming that you’d willingly choose a life that made you miserable?”
I glance down at my fingers, not liking how her words resonate.
“What if, instead, you choose to believe that the life you created for yourself, while not the one you pictured, ended up being more beautiful than anything you could’ve planned?”
Tears funnel into my eyes, and I wipe at them before they can trickle down my cheeks.
“Give the Sadie you don’t remember the benefit of the doubt. Trust that she made the right decisions based on the information she had at the time. And then forgive her if she didn’t.”
Powerful words.
But easier said than done.
I walk backto my room after my session with Dr. Hatchet, feeling emotionally drained. The mental side of this has been far more taxing than the physical. Each step toward recovery is difficult and laboring. It’s like I have fifty miles to go, but the pathway is through thick mud and sludge, causing me to get stuck with each stride forward.
When I get to my room, my cell phone ringing steals my attention. I freeze, fearing who might be calling me, but my curiosity kicks in, and I lunge for the device, reading the name across the screen.
Edward Cullen—a nickname given to Autumn in seventh grade when we were both obsessed withTwilight.
I gasp, scrambling to answer.
“Autumn?” my voice cracks as I curl into a ball on my bed.
“Sades? I didn’t think I would get to talk to you.”
