The broken doctor (book 2 of 'Doctor' duology)

Twenty

It hurt, it really hurt to leave them, but I had to, one thing is to think how useless you are another is to think that you should die. And I did, for a moment I thought about killing myself.

Everything just became too much.

It's been a week, one week since I left them and one week since I'm in this psychiatric hospital, when I said that I would seek help I meant it. It isn't easy, now on top of everything the guilt of leaving them it's eating me alive.

But I'm not just doing this for me.

It's for them too, I don't want them to feel bad for me, I don't want them to feel like they have to watch me because I might flip if someone touches me, or anything.

Before leaving the house that night, I went to my old room and it was exactly the same, all of those clothes I had bought with Niccolo were still there with the tags, I filled a backpack with some clothes, I found some of my documents and left.

I did leave a letter, but I don't know how they reacted. Sooner or later I will be back but as I wrote to them I need to do this by myself. Inside these walls things aren't easy, food isn't the best but at the same time I know I'm not the only one with a traumatic experience.

People here won't walk on eggshells around me, I know that they were being thoughtful of me and I do appreciate it but what do they know about being raped? About having your baby practically ripped of your belly.

"So Julianna, what's on your mind today?" My therapist asked. He was an old man, almost sixty years old with glasses on the tip of his nose. Nice man and so far he doesn't walk around the bush, he says the thing as they are and pushes me to speak but in the way, I don't feel obligated to talk.

Don't make sense, but it works.

"Where do I start?"

"Close your eyes." He said and I did.

"Now, name the feeling that is more intense."

"Guilt." I said immediately.

"Why?"

"I feel guilty for letting the people I love behind, but when I think about it I know that even though they didn't understand what I feel, they wanted to help but I couldn't let them, because sometimes I think that I can't be helped, I can't be what I used to be."

"What did you used to be?" He asked.

"I was fearless, dominating, stubborn, confident. Happy."

"What are you now?"

"Scared, insecure, broken, ugly, disgusting, sad."

"And why is that? Why are you all of those things?"