Safe

-26- A Happy Moment

Holt Jacobs

The puzzle table is empty.

"Do you want to pick a new puzzle or should I?" Dr. Aldrich asks over her shoulder.

She's already at the cabinet with the doors thrown open, searching through the collection.

"No thank you." I tell her quietly as I take a seat at the table.

She selects one, pulling it from the stack and smiling as she walks to the table. It's obvious that she must do puzzles with most of the people she sees. I'll admit, having something to do while I sit in this room and try and figure out what she wants from me makes it slightly less intimidating. But it's made me wonder if she actually loves puzzles or if she just says she does to get people to sit and do them while she picks into their brain.

"Can I ask you a question?" The words tumble out of me without thinking.

"Of course Holt." She says warmly.

"Do you actually love puzzles?"

Dr. Aldrich laughs, it's soft and quiet as she smiles and sits beside me. As she pulls the lid from the box she says "yes, actually I do. I'm just not any good at them."

"Why puzzles?"

She glances at me but I'm staring at the table. The pieces go sliding before me as she dumps the box and sets the lid up for a guide at the top of the table. The longer it takes her to answer my question the more uneasy I get, my mind unable to focus on the pieces like I know she probably wants because I'm too busy trying to stay here.

"Well, at first, a puzzle may seem overwhelming." She clears her throat, selecting a few edge pieces and trying to stick them together. But I can tell from where I watch her out of the corner of my eye that they don't go together. "Especially if you don't have a starting point."

She keeps trying with no luck, fingering through the pieces. I lift my eyes a little so I can help in the search, watching her struggle bothers me.

I pluck a piece out of the mess of a pile and slide it to her. She chuckles again as it snaps into place.

"But then slowly you start with the edge pieces, creating a border to hold the rest and give you a solid starting point." She explains. "And slowly, you start putting each piece in, building off of what you've already figured out until you sit back and get to enjoy this beautiful picture you put together."

I slide another piece over to her as I mull over her words.

"Like therapy." I mumble.

I feel her look at me, her smile widening before she chuckles quietly. "Yeah, I guess it is a bit like therapy."

Pulling a few more edge pieces out of the pile, I line them up in front of me, arranging them based on where they should go according to the picture on the box.

"So what are the edges then?" I ask. "What's supposed to hold me together?"

"Well Holt." She's still doing the puzzle and I'm glad. "Our first priority is that you feel safe and that we have a foundation of trust built."

I don't not feel safe.

"Then what?" I ask.

I have a section of edge pieces together and I push it toward the piece she already has together. I watch as her fingers slowly work to put them in place.

"Then we teach you how to better manage your panic attacks as flash backs and eventually we'll work on something called cognitive behavioral therapy." She says, it all seems overwhelming to me. "But don't worry. Right now let's just get to know each other."

I nod my head, even though I'm not exactly sure what getting to know each other means. I'm pretty certain she already knows everything I told Mrs. Lincoln. How I'm messed up. Everything I've done. Everything he did.

I close my eyes against my better judgement and within seconds I feel the basement close in on me. A chill rushes through my body, my eyes darting around the room. I feel desperate.  I feel like if he touches me again it'll be the end, there won't be anything left of me.

My heart pounds in my chest, a faint whistling that seeps through the cement walls growing stronger and louder as he approaches. My stomach revolts at the sound, at how happy he sounds. The monster that he is.

The door swings open, his frame filling the door way, a twisted smile on his face and as much as I try I can't swallow down the fear that has built inside me. I lean over wretching onto the cold cement floor and he instantly starts to yell at me. Fingers dig into my hair, tightening around the strands until it feels like he might rip them straight from my scalp. I scramble in his grasp, apologizing and pleading as he throws me through the open doorway.

"Clean this shit up you disgusting piece of shit!" He barks at me.

"Yes sir."

I scramble up the stairs, my body sweating, everything shaking as I make my way through the house to where she keeps the cleaning stuff.  But as I pass the front door my feet stop. She isn't around, he didn't follow me. My heart slams in my chest as my mind screams run.

Looking back to the staircase I let out a strangled breath, knowing what will happen if I do. What he'll do when he catches me. But I'm not sure I have an option anymore, maybe this will be the time I actually get away.

I creep toward the door, slipping my shoes on as my hand rests on the handle. I can't do this anymore. I can't take anymore.  At this point death seems more welcome than staying.

As carefully as I can I open the door, quietly stepping through and pulling it closed behind me. I don't take any time taking in my surroundings as I sprint off down the sidewalk as fast as I can.

As I run, my name starts to echo through my mind slowly shifting from dark and menacing to light and gentle until I start to look for who it belongs to. I slow to a stop, my surroundings fading until I see the cabinet where Dr. Aldrich keeps the puzzles and the couch in the middle of the room that I've never sat on and I'm pressed into a corner, huddled in a ball. My face is wet, my chest is tight.

"Holt can you tell me what you see?" Dr. Aldrich asks. "You're safe now."

"I-I.." Words don't want to form, panic still gripping me tightly.

"Breathe in for four." She takes a long breath and as she exhales she says "breathe out for four."

I shake my head because I can't.

"It's over, he can't hurt you anymore."

But that's what she doesn't get. She doesn't know him. She doesn't know that I can't get him out of my head, I can't rid my body of him. It doesn't matter that he's not here physically. He's always here, screaming in my ear, touching me, hurting me. I don't know how to make it stop, if it ever will.

"Can you tell me a happy memory?" Dr. Aldrich asks.

I shake my head no because I don't have happy memories, or at least I didn't. But then I start to think about the Lincoln's, Birdie and Drew. And for some reason Drew's voice goes off in my head and I see a picture clear as day of him in his away jersey, face covered in sweat even though his hair is perfect still and he looks me straight in the eye, his knuckles raising for me to hit me. And he says "I've got your back".

My head starts to nod and I lean back against the wall I'm still pressed into.

"Wonderful, would you like to tell me about it Holt?"

Dr. Aldrich is sitting on the floor, several feet away, her legs crossed, the tops of her black toms tucked under her faded baggie jeans.

I go to tell her about Drew, at least that's what I had intended but when I opened my mouth what comes out has nothing to do with Drew.

"Mrs. Lincoln's pregnant."