LUDICROUS | ✎

chapter | 63

──────
L U D I C R O U S
[ chapter 63 • beauty in death ]
──────

THEY SAY THERE'S a beauty in death .... especially in Mexican culture, it's thought to be. When I was a child, I was told that death was something beautiful, that there's an idea of life after death. I had to learn the concept of beauty being in death the hard way, everyone I thought that would stick would just leave .... fade away like chipping paint being tainted by the scorching sun. Even when you repainted it, it would still fade away because the scorching fireball called the sun comes out every day... it's always there blazing above our heads.

But with the death of Catina and Nana, I couldn't pinpoint any sort of beauty in either of their passings. I just couldn't. There's nothing beautiful in losing a battle to cancer. And, there's most definitely nothing beautiful in killing your own sister just because of your own reckless driving — it's especially not beautiful that my sister had to die painfully.

"Atalie."

I peel my eyes away from the window, a scowl printed on my face because of how sunny and lively everything seemed to be outside. "Yes?" I tiredly ask, dropping my hands onto my lap, picking at the chipped nail polish on my nails.

"Why don't we start with how you're feeling right now?"

I push my tongue against the inside of my left cheek, staring at my lap, lost in thought. "How I feel?" I rasp out, my voice is barely audible. "I wish I couldn't feel a goddamn thing anymore."

"And, why are you feeling like that?" My therapist, Dr. Cooper, asks whilst her eyes are trained on me.

I heavily sigh through my nose, nawing at my bottom lip. "Why does it matter? Can't we just leave it at that?"

"Atalie, this is a safe place —"

"You do know, the only reason why I come to these sessions is that it'll make my parents feel better, so I really don't feel like talking anymore," I say, continuing to play with my fingers.

Once I was ready to leave the hospital, I hid away in my room for two weeks which my parents didn't like at all — I fell back into old habits again and it broke my parents even more that they didn't know how to help me. After, getting me out of my room and sitting down with me to eat again, they discussed the idea of therapy is good for us all — we do family and individual therapy which in my eyes doesn't help for shit and is a waste of money (I just agreed to it just to take some weight off their shoulders).

"You're not supposed to talk about just anything. I'm here to weave through your memory, the trauma you experienced on that night, and help you process it. Help you understand it."

I slowly nod, moving my head to the side and staring back out the window. "No, thank you. I already know what happened that night. I don't need a shrink to tell me that I killed my sister."

Finally, after about 10 minutes with just the sound of a grandfather clock ticking down the minutes and Dr. Copper attempting to talk to me, the therapy session ended, and I limped out of the room and down the hallway. My lips were pulled into a grimace as every step I took sent a sharp pain jolting through my left leg, my bad leg seemed to struggle to keep up with my good one.

I struggle to bite back any wines and stop outside the waiting room, straightening my back and fixing my bag over my shoulder. My eyes fall on Zander who sat on a chair in the waiting room. He looks up from his phone, eyebrows raising in surprise to see me.

"What a small world, " Zander breaths out, putting his phone away. "I didn't know you see Dr. Copper too."

I nod. "Started seeing her last week just to please my parents. They're worried about me," I say, frowning slightly. "Everyone is and it's quite annoying."

Zander nods as he chuckles lowly. "God, do I know the feeling. It's straight up the worst fucking feeling. Everyone is silently watching you, acting as if you're this fragile person that will break at any given moment."

I hum at his words. "Can I ask what you see her for? If that's okay with you. Or we can't do that."

"No, no it's fine. Uh, my father killed himself and I found him," Zander states as he twists the bracelets on his wrist.

"I'm sorry for your loss."

"That shit creates a lot of damage. Dr. Copper helps a lot, she's really cool. And, you should take my word, I've been through at least ten different therapists before her, and she's the best."

I nod, limping over to the seat across from him. "I'll keep that in mind." I bite down on my bottom lip, holding onto my left leg, the pain shooting through it was unbearable.

"Are you okay?"

"Y-yeah," I mutter shakily. "Just I can only walk on this leg for a little before it starts hurting really badly."

"Do you go to physical therapy as well?"

"Yup, that's also the worst. Fell flat on my face the first time I went."

A choked out laughed leaves his lips before he covers his mouth with his hands. "I'm sorry for laughing," he says, still holding back a smile.

I wave it off, shrugging. "It's fine. If it makes you feel any better, my brother and friends recorded the entire thing and played it on repeat just to laugh at it."

"Great support system you have."

I nod. "I know they're the greatest." Unlocking my phone, I look at the time and see it's best to start walking home — I just can't get in a car at the moment.

"I'll see you around," I say, standing up and wincing at the slightest movement. Fixing my bag over my shoulder, I wave at him, forcing a tight lipped smile onto my face.

"Do you want a ride? I can skip my session, and take you home. Or call Kio if you want."

I shake my head. "No, my brother is picking me up. Bye."