Page 63 of Pretty Black

The time made me pause.

It was from his first call. It must not have shown up right away because of the shitty service in the arena.

I clicked play.

Present Day

“Did you hear me, Iris?” Dr. Kahn asked.

“I’m sorry. I’m having a hard time focusing. What did you ask?”

“Where do you keep going to?”

“I didn’t sleep well.”

“We’ll revisit the not sleeping. Where were you?”

I sighed. “The night my brother died. I go back there when I can’t sleep.”

“What has you not sleeping?” she asked, glancing over at a file. “You are on more than one sleeping pill, and you’re still not sleeping?”

“I don’t sleep well alone.”

She frowned. “Because of the dreams?”

“Yes.”

“Has this been a problem since?”

“Longer. I—” I hesitated, finding the words. “I don’t enjoy being alone in the dark.”

She tilted her head. “Is this all tied into what you called claustrophobia when they admitted you the first time?”

I nodded, pulling my knees into my chest.

“How long have you been experiencing this?”

“As long as I can remember,” I admitted. I’d told her so much already. What was one more thing?

“How did you sleep as a child?”

“My brother had a similar experience, but his manifested worse. He had night terrors. He used to come sleep in my room.”

She processed the information for a moment before replying, “Did you and your brother have a shared trauma to have caused this?”

“I guess you could say that.”

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“When we were little, my stepdad used to lock us in the linen closet when he didn’t want to deal with us.” Every word cut my chest like a razor blade as I spoke, nearly sending me back there. My stomach heaved, and I swallowed bile, trying not to vomit at Dr. Kahn’s feet.

“Do you go back there at night?”

“Sometimes. More often to the night my brother died.”

“Before he died, did you?” she asked softening her words. Her forehead pulled in concern.

“All the time.”

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