Love Scars

Ch. 15: Brianna

The unfortunately familiar hospital seemed different today. Perhaps it was the slightly greyed walls, or the pristine white floors, but it was probably the fact that there was someone in the room with me. They don't look even remotely familiar, and I try to not let my breathing alert him, but the heart rate monitor gives me away. The dreadful beeping slowly gets faster the longer he doesn't move, anxiety taking over my head.

"Oh good, you're awake," He has greying hair to match the walls, and basic brown eyes. His eyes and smile were accented with wrinkles and freckles. He had freckles on his hands too, everything else was covered by a long sleeve dress shirt, slacks, and clean shoes. "I'm Dr. Bradbury, and your family hired me to help you through therapy."

I heart lurched at the word. Therapy. It hadn't ever been a pleasant experience for me, but now I'm stuck with a therapist in a room that I can't leave.

"Do you need anything before we start?" I shook my head in response.

He shifted to face me from his chair. "What do you wish to be called?"

"Brianna."

Dr. Bradbury wrote it down, although he should have known that anyway. "Alright Brianna, when did your anorexia start?"

When I knew I wasn't thin enough. When people pointed out my love handles and the fact that my stomach wasn't flat. When I hated the way my thighs squished out when I sat. When I knew I should be thin. "I'm not sure."

He continued to scribble on the clipboard, even though there wasn't anything to write down. "And your depression?"

"About the same time I'm sure," I felt uneasy answering to someone I don't know.

"Why?"

I furrowed my eyebrows in confusion. "Why what?"

His smile turned into a slight frown and he shrugged his shoulders. "Why did your depression and anxiety start? Why are you here? There are a lot of 'whys' in this situation Ms. Brianna."

I sat quietly for a moment, debating what I wanted to say. I opened my mouth, but nothing came out.

"Is there something you wish to say?"

I just shook my head at a loss for words. Why was I depressed? There were a lot of reasons that could be it. Why was I anorexic? Not sure either. I guess I'm just going to have to try harder to figure out why I have such terrible problems, but maybe I don't want to know.

Maybe, just maybe, I'm alright with not remembering what ruined my life.