To conquer and prevail

Chapter Two

"How was the beach?" Charlie's mother asks when she storms inside.

"How about you ask Kristof!" Charlie snarled as she quickly ran upstairs and jumped under the shower. It is here where she first allows her tears to come out. They greedily accept her over and come pouring out of her eyes. The warm water calms her tremor a bit, but the anger inside her doesn't.

"Are you okay, sweetheart?" Charlie's mother knocks on the bathroom door.

"I. AM. FINE."

"Okay, will I see you downstairs for dinner?"

"Yes."

"I love you, sweetheart."

Charlie doesn't reply. She does love her, sometimes it just feels better not to let her know too often. Charlie's mother was a perfect suburban mother. Charlie's father left when he found out she was pregnant, so she named the baby after him. Charlie tried contacting him once, but he made it very clear he was not interested. In the end, it was always the two of them. Graciella Analousia Martinez. They were the only Latina household in the neighborhood, but that never stopped anything for Charlie. Her mother was hard working to earn money for any expenses Charlie needed. Whilst at the same time being a parent who socialized with the other parents, helped out at school and supported Charlie on whatever hobby she was obsessing over. Charlie loved her with all her heart. Maybe that's why she never contemplated moving out. She liked it like this. It wasn't always easy, but what was? Almost half an hour must've passed because suddenly the water turned ice cold. Nice, Charlie thought, it was her mother's way of letting her know she needed to get out. The hot water would go back on until she was dressed and downstairs. Being iced like this didn't make it hard to get out of the shower. Being iced like this did make her tremor worse.

"Stop it!" Charlie shouted at her arm as she shakingly tried to dry up. "Calm down!" She bit her lip, her body tensing. She could just hear her mother say 'The more you relax, the better it gets, sweetheart'. How the heck was Charlie supposed to relax when she's shaking like this. But after an eternity of shaking and struggling Charlie managed to dry herself off and get dressed without help. Success was in the little things.

"Sweetheart, I was talking to Susan," oh yeah, Charlie's mother and her therapist were on a first name basis, "and first of all she was really happy you went to the beach, and all by yourself! But she'll tell you all about that tomorrow. She also mentioned it might be nice for you to start some group therapy with other twenty-somethings who suffer from PTSD."

Great. PTSD again. Her mother's favorite subject to discuss during diner. She already told 'Susan' and her mother that she does not relate to PTSD. She just has nightmares and a tremor. That's all.

"Mom, I do not have PTSD." Emphasis on every letter of every word.

"Well it could be nice to level with kids who struggle with the same things."

"Sure."

"You'll go?" Her mother couldn't believe it was going to be this easy.

"I'll go. I promised I would. And I will do anything 'Susan' says, just to be relieved from this god awful tremor."

"Okay." She smiles.

"Okay."

It's a week later and her mother hasn't talked about group therapy to Charlie until today. Today's the day. The first session. Two o'clock sharp her mother drops her off at the community center. There are a few other houses in the parking lot.

"So you should be ready in about 2 hours. I will just go do some errands and I will be here waiting for you when you are ready, sweetheart." Her mother kissed Charlie goodbye. Charlie hopped out of the car and started her crusade towards the entrance. About a century later she stood in front of it. It looked heavy and with her good arm it took about all she had to push the door open. Her left arm never was her good arm. Charlie had always been right handed. Only since the accident left her with a tremor in that one, she was forced to become a lefty. There are pamflets all over the building to guide her towards the correct room. Here she finds a circle of chairs, accompanied by a table against the wall with tea, coffee and lemonade. Charlie squinted her eye, scanning the room for whomever was in it. It appeared to be still empty. She checked her watch: ten past two. It should start in five minutes. She quickly got a seat and as if that was the starting sound, a group of people walked in. They looked about her age, heavily chatting away. Only to pause as soon as one of them saw Charlie, elbowed another and they soon were all staring at her. Charlie blushed and looked away. Exactly why she didn't want to do this in the first place. Social contact. People always stared. They always wanted to know the story behind the scars. They always talked behind her back.