Love Will Free You

Chapter 3

--- I'm back home now, so I can start to update more. :) What do you think of the story so far? Any suggestions? Please comment what you think! Also, I added a picture of how I imagine Finley looks like, so be sure to check it out! :) Thanks! ---

Chapter 3

     I swallow nervously and get up from where I was seated on the bed. Crossing my room to the mirror, I run my fingers through my wavy, dark hair and stare back at my reflection. My blue-grey eyes are wide and startled; I have a panicked expression, almost like a trapped animal. I need to calm down. I have to calm down. Acting like this will only give my parents all the more reason to believe I need therapy and I must convince them otherwise. I realize thirty minutes must have passed and hurry down the staircase to the dinner table.

     As usual, our dinner conversation is hardly interesting, much less lively. Suppers used to be my favorite meal, because it meant I could come home and be myself with my family. Now, I hardly feel like myself anymore and I can't pretend nothing has changed; the dynamics have shifted, and we can no longer rely on Ronan's quick sense of humor and optimism to save us. Much too soon, the spotlight turns to me.

     "So, Finley," my mother starts, "are you looking forwards to Friday? It's your first session with Mr. Palmer!" She says this with a hopeful and bright expression, the kind you give little kids when you hope they don't throw a tantrum.

     "No, I'm not. I hate Dr. Palmer and I hate therapy. I don't plan on going."

      "Sweetie, why do you dread it so? You've never even had therapy before, how can you already hate it?" Her expression changes to a look of dismay.

      "I don't need therapy and you won't make me go! You can't! I won't do it!" I can feel the hysteria rising in my throat. No. I can't have a panic attack right now. Deep breaths. Let it wait, I pray. Wait until I'm in the comforting darkness of my closet but not here in front of my parents.

     "Finley! That is no way to talk to your parents! You will not speak to us in that manner! Straighten up and stop acting like a childish brat! You're fifteen---act your age!" my father practically yells. I feel my eyes welling up and my breathing becomes more and more rapid.

     "But why can't you see I just miss my brother!" I scream back. "YOU NEVER LOVED HIM THAT'S WHY YOU DON'T MISS HIM! YOU CAN'T UNDERSTAND BECAUSE YOU AREN'T GRIEVING! YOU'RE NOT EVEN SAD! YOU'RE JUST TRYING TO HURT ME EVEN MORE, AREN'T YOU!? YOU'RE TOO BLIND AND NAIVE AND STUPID, THAT'S ALL!"

    "THAT IS ENOUGH!" And then my father does something he has never done. He slaps me. My whole face stings and my vision is blurred with tears. My mother gasps and reaches out for me as I stumble towards the stairs and flee to my bedroom, run to where I can panic in safety. I slam the door shut and lock it, collapsing to the floor in a ball where I cry and cry. It's the kind of crying that comes out in heaving sobs; you have no control over it and the tears stream down and seem to never stop. It must be two hours before I'm finally calmed down enough to wash my face and then quickly return to my room.

     I didn't mean to say all those horrible things, they just came out. I'm a terrible person, and I begin to feel sick as I realize that this time, Ronan won't be here to sort it all out. He won't come hold me and tell me I'm not such an awful person, I just made a mistake. He won't go win my parents over and convince them I'm somewhat right. He won't tell me to, "be strong, little girl, it gets better." Ronan's gone. Forever. The only true friend I've ever had in the world has been ripped away from me, never to return again. My throats closes up and my eyes go misty as I begin to cry again. I'm a helpless wreck. Maybe I do need therapy. What normal person has a panic attack every day and can't sleep so they curl up in the closet until the nightmares go away?

     I wrap up in one of Ronan's old flannel shirts, the one that still smells like him, and curl up as my room darkens rapidly. Thoughts are running through my head a thousand miles an hour. Am I really that messed up? Am I ruined for life? Who am I? I've changed so much that Ronan wouldn't recognize the hollowed out, empty person I've become. I don't even know myself.