The Delinquent's Scarred Artist

Chapter 1: Delia

"So how has work been, Delia?" My therapist, Dr. Landon asks me.

I look around the small room that I've become familiar with over the last four years while I think of a response. "It's been nice. It's slowed down quite a bit the last couple weeks because of school starting up again, but I've really enjoyed working there."

She nods slowly as she scribbles on her notepad and looks up at me again. "That sounds like you're really getting settled there. I hope you've been taking time to yourself though. What have you been doing outside of work and school?"

"Uh..." I stutter. It's times like this that I wish I was more outgoing like my friend since highschool, Nina. I've never been good with making friends or even interacting with others around me. The whole point of me working at the cafe was to force me out of my comfort zone, but my social anxiety seems to always get the better of me. I had hoped this job would have helped me find the courage to talk to people freely, but it almost always ends with me going into a panic attack.

"Delia." Dr. Landon calls gently, bringing me out of my thoughts.

"Sorry." I grimace. "I haven't had much down time, no."

A disappointed, yet tired sigh escapes her lips and I'm worried that I have somehow upset her. "Have you at least seen any of your friends since the last time I saw you?"

I nod. "Yeah, Nina came down to see me last weekend and we went shopping. She dragged me to the mall after she and her boyfriend from highschool broke up. She called it 'retail therapy'."

"Well that's something at least." she murmurs. "Anything else?"

"I went and saw Gemma yesterday after class. We had lunch at the new diner that opened up near her work."

She nods again and makes a quick note of what I had previously just said. "I'm happy you're pushing yourself to be social. What about your brother? Have you seen much of him?"

My leg starts bouncing subconsciously as I feel my anxiety grow at the thought of him and memories of our childhood play in the back of my mind like a horror movie that never ends. "Not really, no. I've been pretty busy with work and school."

"Are you sure? Or are you distancing yourself from him again?"

I look down at my folded hands that laid on my lap and bite my bottom lip as the feeling of guilt washes over me. "I guess it's a bit of both."

"Have you been having nightmares again?" She asks gently knowing I tend to go radio silent on my brother whenever they make their ugly return at night. Part of me knows that I need to tell her the truth, but I also know that once I do, I'll be admitting to not only her, but to myself that I'm far from where I should be. That night still haunts me. I know it shouldn't, but it does.

"I had one a couple weeks ago and then again last night." I admit in a hushed tone.

"And what exactly happens in those dreams?"

Her words act as some sort of trigger because suddenly a lump forms in my throat and my vision becomes blurry. Images of that night play through my mind again and I feel like the walls are closing in on me. I can't breathe suddenly and the lump gets bigger. I take a shaky breath in and swallow hard before forcing a response to her. "It's the same thing almost every night but it's been mostly him yelling, glass breaking and the smell of blood."

Dr. Landon gives me a small, encouraging smile and sets her notebook down on the table beside her. "I'm going to ask you something that I've tried asking you over the years and if you still aren't ready to answer, then I will understand and won't push any further." she says and I nod, telling her to continue. "In your own words, what do you think was the most traumatic part about that night?"