Dead Roses

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February 19, 2017.

Twenty three - Emma

"It's been a few weeks since I've seen you Emma, how have you been doing?" Her therapist stared at her and searched for some outside indication that Emma wasn't doing well, but there was none. Emma had been sleeping well, the purple that used to hang below her eyes had disappeared almost entirely. She had been taking care of herself and she made sure to let Dr. Phillips know as much.

"I've been doing really well. Sleeping, eating, not swimming in below freezing temperatures, all that fun stuff required for living."

Dr. Phillips surely would have rolled her eyes if they weren't in a professional situation, she always hated when Emma joked about that kind of thing. "That's very good to hear. Do you have anything specific you wanted to talk about today or should we go over something that I've been meaning to discuss with you?"

"I actually wanted to talk about my prescriptions. The sleep one, specifically, I want to stop taking it. It makes me feel like a zombie."

"I would be willing to discuss tapering you off of that. Did you bring Taylor here with you?"

Emma laughed at the question because she knew exactly what it was supposed to mean. "You don't think I would tell you if I stopped sleeping?"

Dr. Phillips raised her eyebrows. "Would you?" Emma shrugged. "That's what I thought. It would be something I want to talk about with Taylor because no, I do not think that you would tell me if you stopped sleeping again."

"It really wasn't that big of a deal." Emma could tell from the look on her face that those weren't the best words to choose.

"Emma, I can't let you do that again. It's very dangerous for you both physically and mentally."

Emma groaned and gave in, knowing that the only way she would be permitted to stop was if they talked about it as a group. Taylor wasn't far, she had stopped letting Emma come alone when she learned that Emma hadn't actually been coming to her appointments at all. "Taylor's in the car. I can put her on the phone or try and figure out a way for her to come in here, whichever you prefer."

"Let's come back to that before you go. I have something I want to ask you."

"Shoot."

"Have you been back to visit your mother since your father passed?"

Emma suddenly wanted to amend her earlier statement to add the word me at the end. Shoot me. She didn't say that out loud, fearing it would cause more questions than necessary. Instead she answered with one word. "No."

"Why is that? Have you been back to visit your father?"

That was a stupid question, of course she hadn't been back to visit her dad. What was she supposed to do, bring him flowers and make herself believe he was better than he really was? Emma would absolutely go and visit him under one circumstance. She would go if she was allowed to throw rocks the the dirt above him and carve the words 'fuck you' in his grave. Emma couldn't help her sarcastic answer. "Do you think I've been back to visit my abusive and dead father?"

This did actually get a small laugh out of her therapist. "No, Emma, I don't. I don't think you have visited your mother either because you don't forgive her."

"If you're right, and I'm not saying you are, then how's that supposed to help me?" Emma leaned forward and gave her the 'tell me more about how wonderfully fucked up I am' look.

"You need to go see both of them." That wasn't a suggestion so much as an order, but Emma didn't respond. "I think it will help you if you forgive your mother and also if you see that your father is dead. I hear he's been sending you letters."

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