Treasure hunt

You

I woke up the next day dreading the session with Arlo. I suppose my mom was right about it making me feel better but God damn, the sleep walking is still there. The dreams are still real to me. Why should I fill my feelings into the room just to find myself again on the floor? I wouldn't leave the sofa for a good ten minutes after my mom nudged me to wake up. it was barely a nudge, honestly. I freak out when I'm touched. Especially in my sleep. It takes so much determination and conviction to open my eyes let alone leave the home dressed and clean. I sigh deep and head to the shower upstairs in my bedroom. I glimpse at my reflection from my peripheral vision. I hate looking at myself in the morning. My arms covered in dry blood. My face sometimes also bloodied from when I wipe my tears. Bruises on my knees and thighs. My scalp hurting from ripping at my hair. Another sigh leaves me. It sends me falling to the ground if I actually convince myself to look in the mirror at this state. We don't want that. Do we? 

I keep my hair open, throw on a huge hoodie and sweats and head out.

"I assume you're fine today too miss Ruby?" he says with his usual handsome smile and gentle eyes. I let out a chuckle. "yes I'm fine." I relax into the leather chair that's now become my sanctuary and fold up my legs. That's considered to be a perk for being in therapy. You get to be as relaxed as you possibly want. 

"How was your week?" 

"Like every other week, Dull-no wait" I remember "I actually interacted with my mom. Just yesterday. I even braided my hair so that's progress?" he laughs at that. 

"It's exceptional progress ruby. what made you finally interact with her?" 

I furrow my brows trying to find ways to describe it "well, I just didn't want to be more of a burden on them. It's not that I care but it's actually pathetic being this lump of a crying homo-Sapien. It's a lot of energy. But still, Very pathetic" I shift my gaze from the wooden floor to him. The sides of his eyes crinkle as he smiles at me, apparently amused.  

He writes down some crap. You know, sometimes I just want to pick up his notepad and throw it across the room. Maybe because it drives my curiosity towards the edge or maybe because it takes his attention from me. Either way, it's pretty annoying. He asks as he continues writing "how did you interact with her? By talking or playing a board game?" 

I laugh at the fact that he thinks I'd actually play a GAME with her. HA HA. "No, no way. We didn't play a game but I helped her cook. It was mostly quiet. Some small talk. She told me she's starting therapy with you" He raises his eyebrows at that. 

 "Yes, she is" he murmurs.

"I can't ask you about her anymore huh?" 

"You're right" 

"Oh chucks, I tots wanted to know what she thinks of me," I say sarcastically. 

He smiles and starts with his favorite topic. Eric. "Now Ruby, is there anything you remember perhaps after you found your brother? How you felt about it" 

I hide my face behind my hair as I wrap my arms around my legs. I'm so annoyed he keeps asking that. I won't remember and I do not necessarily want to. I can tell he notices my inconvenience. 

"I have a feeling you don't want to remember" 

"Well, no fucking shit Sherlock" I combust. He can't stop asking, can't he? Maybe that's not the root of the problem! Maybe it's a fucking problem because he keeps mentioning ERIC. "Why should I remember if all I want to do is to forget about it! What good will it do me if I remember how I KILLED MY LITTLE BROTHER?" My voice elevates higher and higher. I feel the rage spill onto him and he's taking it. 

"HE DIDN'T DIE OF OLD AGE OR AN ACCIDENT. HE DIED FROM ME. I KNOW IT. I KNOW IT, ARLO" My voice shatters when my lips uttered his name . I collapse. My head sunk between my knees, my hands balled into fists. I sobbed unceasingly. It seems that my misery worsened as I suffocate with my tears. The pain must have come in waves, minutes of sobbing broken apart by short pauses for recovering breaths. The crying did cease eventually when his arms wrapped around me awkwardly as he bent to hug me while standing. sweeps of his aroma calming me. I'm so angry at him but his embrace is much needed. I couldn't help but clench my fists around his shirt. It hurts to do that, really. The flesh around my fingers opening. 

I never cared to put bandages on my fingers of palms because, what's the use of ill be doing it again anyway? That's what I told my parents at the beginning of the sleep walking. Truthfully, I never cared for them to heal. It's the least I get for causing such horror to my brother. 

After my full blown sobbing ended he sat back, cleared his throat and explained "I apologize for pressing you hard about your brother, I wanted you to open up so we could go through the process and resolve it. Obviously, you're not ready yet. I want your sleep walking to stop most importantly but I don't see how that's going to happen if you don't stop feeling guilty about what happened. Then again, because you've no clue what went on then your mind is wandering off to dangerous places" 

He's right. My sleeping issue is due to guilt but how can he not see that it's all on me? Even if it was a slight accident. It's still my fault... I was there and I didn't protect him. It is his job to let me open up to the real issue and resolve it but I've said what I can. Maybe not, but I can't just yet and I'm still so very angry at him. 

Times up so I head out to my parents sitting in the waiting area . Once mom sees me coming, her gaze lowers and her eyes widen. Confused at her expression I look down at myself and I see it. My hands are in fists and I'm dripping blood. The skin around my nails torn again.