Saving Eileen

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐓𝐇𝐑𝐄𝐄

For the past couple of years, I've been plagued with a bad case of insomnia. There were nights when I could not sleep at all, but then there were others when I did not have that issue. However, on those nights I was able to fall asleep, nightmares came and dug their claws into me. Night after night, weeks after weeks. Nightmares of that night and the events following were like a broken record in my head. The demons were feasting on the anxiety, fear, and shame that had their hold on me.

When my dad died, guilt was added to the already debilitating pile of misfortune. Once friendly faces turned enemies were now replaced with shadows reaching out for me. I started seeing my father on a continuous cycle blaming me, hating me, cursing my name. It didn't take too much to figure out why I was seeing that.

A part of me did blame myself for his death. Don't get me wrong, I'm not disillusioned to the point that I think I was responsible. But the fact that we got into an argument the morning of the accident, and the fact that was the last conversation we ever had, didn't help my conscience.

"Are you sure we're at the right place?" I looked at the building in suspicion. "This doesn't look like a psychologist's. Looks like a cat lady's house."

My aunt didn't try to hide the smile at my words as she laid her chin on top of her hands on the steering wheel. "It used to be an insurance office.

"No, this is 100% a cat lady's house. I'm a dog person."

She chuckled again as she set up, turning the car off. "Yes it does," she agreed. She opened the car door, but paused when I hadn't moved to do the same. "I know this is a big step sweetie, but it will help."

"I'm aware of the idea," I remarked, fiddling with the hair tie around my left wrist, pulling. I barely flinched as the elastic snap back against my wrist. Taking a breath, I opened the car door and got out before I could change my mind for the nth time.

As we entered the office, we stepped into a study room of sorts. To say we were impressed was an understatement. The walls had built-in bookshelves that would completely around to the other side of the room. A large-sized couch and a couple of accompanying seats in front of them. A mahogany coffee table between them.

By the other door was a desk with a MacBook with all the items on it in a perfectionist like manner. In several places along the walls, there were paintings hung up. By the door was a small fridge, an assortment of snacks, and a coffee maker. Overall, the feeling of the whole place was warm and somewhat inviting.

"This looks cozy," Aunt Deb noted, turning in a circle in the middle of the room. "I wonder where the—"

As if on cue, the door across the room opened. A guy walked in oblivious to our presence for a few moments. He was tall and stringbean like, with curly dark hair framed around his expressive green eyes.

When he noticed us, his eyes lit up with a professional friendliness. "Oh, I'm so sorry. I didn't hear you come in. You must be Dr. Hurst and Eileen?"

"Yes, it's good to meet you, Dr. Johnston." My aunt gave a nod, shaking his hand when he offered it. Meanwhile, I was still standing at the door as if I was about to make a last attempt of leaving, however my legs seemed glued on the spot. "I hope it isn't too informal if I ask you to call me Deborah. I'm doctor at the office."