Somewhere

Chapter Eight

Sinclair

Tapping against the hard exterior of the recliner Sinclair reminisced in the solemn quietness that hung in the air, the finite mood wafting like the scratchy air in the Saharan Desert. Clearing her throat she started off the session, "It was an accident, like always. You know me... I'm always clumsy." Thumbing her finger across her eyes she flinched at its soreness. Chuckling she tried to lighten the mood. It didn't work; apparently the elephant in the room was more obvious than my discretion could hide. Looking into the eyes of her counselor she scratched anxiously at her throat. "Well say something..." A few seconds ticked by, the humidity slowly rising in the room. Leaning forward she spoke. "I think we may have to conclude these session visits and I recommend searching furthermore for another therapist." Holding my breath, Sinclair felt it catch in my throat. The air escalated to a frigid, temperature, or maybe it was the undeniable terror that rattled my bones. Sweat slowly built under my pits and my breathing felt erratic. Mind stumbling and running with possibilities of why her mind ran into a brick wall of nothingness; confusion. These sessions gave Sinclair the only peace of mind she could accompany (beside the bookstore). "I-I don't think I understand completely Mrs. Porter. I would a-appreciate it if you elaborated. I thought I was doing well, or was that another bullshit lie?" Her body felt stoic as did her expressions. Her voice held a calm demeanor. A cold, deadly tone that was bordering the line between anger and frustration. Sighing she crossed her hands over one another. The simple movement was so familiar and constant Sinclair was sure she did that at least once during her sessions. "Truthfully, I think that you don't want my help," She paused, gathering her thoughts. "First off I would never lie to you, I don't feel the need to and secondly, I think you believe you legitimately deserve this abusement, and don't fight with me on this. I'm a therapist, it's my job to notice these things. But importantly I think that you think of this as a punishment, a way to compensate for your mother's death. You may think it actually was your fault... that she died that is." Heart clenching painfully Sinclair cleared the emotion that dug its way to the back of her throat. Folding away the fallen strands of hair behind her ear, she felt the well-known sting of moist tears gathering in her eyes. "Sorry to disappoint but your terribly wrong Mrs. Porter." Blinking back at the calm exterior of the opposing body in front of her she saw her lean forward, her elbows resting on top of her knees. "I don't know if you know this but number of U.S. troops killed in Afghanistan and Iraq is approximately 6,614, although the number of women, in the same period and union, were killed as to the result of domestic violence summed up to 11,766 casualties Sinclair. All because either they were scared of the terrible truth that came with confronting to a friend, because they were physically incapable of telling someone or they tried and failed to change the harmful ways of the afflicter. I don't know about you but the sheer repulsiveness of it all makes me sick to my stomach, and unfortunately many women in your position would kill to have a friend to talk to, confidentially too that is. But if I may I'm curious to ask of why you aren't as enthralled as them to open up to me?" Watching her lean back Sinclair sunk into the cold backside of the chair. A ring was heard by the clock ticking beside them. Looking over she saw Mrs. Porter give a doleful smile. "Until next time Sinclair." Standing erect she walked to the dark, cherry-wood door. Her hand hesitating over the handle. Before she could think over the consequences of her action she turned around she reached in her baggy sweater and pulled out a small journal. Setting on the table beside her she whispered, "I don't know what to do and I'm afraid and terrified for my life. Here's a little piece of my story and hopefully... a small burden will lift off my chest and we can work this out together." Giving a small smile she opened the door and ran out into the blissful oblivious the world had to offer.