Resilience

24| Enchanting Grey Eyes

ARABELLA'S POV

For the moment when I woke up, my mind was clouded with confusion. It took a few more seconds for my brain to adjust to my surroundings as I remembered this place that I now get to label as my room.

Instead of getting out of bed, I chose to wrap myself in the warmth of my comforters as I nest back into the heavenly tranquilly for a little while longer.

Finally mustering up enough self courage to get out of my comfortable bed, my eyes glanced around my room, instilling a sense of comfort that engulfed me.

The safety of being in my room was a concept still new to me but this place has grown to become my sanctuary, a place where my privacy remains valued, giving me my own exclusive space.

It's been a few weeks since our trip to the hospital, and I have been here for over a month now, and I feel like I was never away.

I'm still adjusting to my life here, especially after moving from a house that was even smaller than the bathroom that I now own, to a lifestyle that I'd never in my life would have imagined.

But I'm glad to finally be surrounded by people that I can call my family, something I'd value more than any wealth privileges, because that's what I had always been denied, even when it was the only thing I had yearned for.

My brothers, however, are being really, how do I put it nicely, pain in my ass.

Ever since they discovered my past, they've been treating me like a delicate little doll that could even break with a single touch.

I do like the fact that I finally have someone who cares about me, but the looks of pity and sympathy they give me, combined with their annoyingly over attentiveness, was making me queasy.

I still get nightmares nearly every night.

I didn't tell them at first but one night, I woke them up screaming in the middle of the night and almost choked myself in sleep.

So, Dad made sure to make me go to a therapist, which I had earlier successfully managed to avoid.

This time, nothing worked so I threw an ugly tantrum about not going.

But Kyson talked me into agreeing to it.

He told me he was seeing the same therapist as me, and going to a therapist doesn't imply I was crazy.

He also mentioned that the therapy had really helped him with his nightmares so I reluctantly agreed.

I'm only going to give it a shot because he asked nicely

I still don't know anything about Kyson's past and I don't think he's ready to tell me.

I wasn't going to put any pressure on him either.

Anyways, I have two appointments in a week.

I've already attended one session, but didn't say a single thing and sat there ignoring everything.

My therapist, despite me behaving like a bitch, seems really nice and didn't force me to talk at all.

But by the end, I'm not sure how she did it, but we ended up talking about a lot of random things and girly stuff.

Living in a house full of testosterone, you sometimes need to surround yourself with estrogen or you'll start to feel like a man yourself, no kidding.

I'm still weirded out about having to tell a complete stranger about my past. But I'm willing to give it another shot because I desperately want to move on from my past.