Blue

New

*** Stacy above ***

The repercussions of sneaking out?

A nasty headache, a vastly confusing memory and an immediate trip to the therapist.

Sitting comfortably on the over sized leather seat, I mindlessly dug the dirt from my nails, thinking about anything else I could be doing with my time.

"So, Teal, tell me something that you've learned this week."

I quietly sighed, placing my hands in my lap. It was a routinely question Mr. Harrison asked at the beginning of every therapy session.

Looking up and into his trusting, brown eyes, I mumbled, "probably not to sneak out after you've been grounded."

Mr. Harrison unexpectedly released a loud laugh. "That's right, your mother told me about that."

I bet she did. I held in an eye roll as I pictured her bad-mouthing her daughter. She's the most disrespectful child, so irresponsible and selfish. Only cares about herself.

I sighed again and nodded my head.

"So how where did you go?" He asked lightly, brown eyes glimmering with mirth.

"A party." Might as well tell him what my mother already knows.

"And how was it? Did you have a few drinks? Talk to a few boys?" He asked wriggling his eyebrows.

"What?" My head snapped up and met his eyes in shock. Is this a test? Do I tell him the truth?

"I'm not that old, Teal, it wasn't long ago I was going out to parties. I do know what happens at them." Just as quickly as he smiled, his eyes suddenly turned serious. "I hope you weren't the girl vomiting behind the bush..." He paused. "Or the one skinny dipping in the hot tub." The he frowned. "Or playing strip poker with five guys."

My mouth parted. "Um...no." 

"Well," he says sheepishly. "Gold star for you then."

I mumbled beneath my breath and quickly changed the subject. "So, seeing as you are a therapist right-"

"Yep." He grinned.

"Well, recently when I've looked at my reflection, and- well- It's just that sometimes my image changes. My face is grey and I'm shaking. I even had a dream where I sat at a park and counted pills." I shuddered, my mind quickly slipping into it as imagined myself.

One pill. Two pills. 

"Since you're a therapist and all, I just thought you might be able to tell me the meaning behind it?" After the haunting vision of myself in the mirror, dreams began to revolve around pills. Me taking them, me rattling them, counting them, selling them, holding them, endless repetitive dreams that drove me nuts. I needed someone's insight. I needed someone to help me. It had been nagging at the back of my head, and every time I'd seen a mirror I looked the other way, worried my mind would play havoc again.