The Victim (Book #1)

Chapter 17

After brushing my teeth and hair and changing into regular clothes, I went to Charlotte's office and sat down in the chair I liked. I had grown accustomed to its comfort when I read in the mornings, and it felt almost like a friend was with me when it was time for more of my therapy sessions. How sad is that?  I thought with a smile.

Charlotte moved from her desk to the chair across from me and set the note on the table in between us. I looked up from my messy scrawl into her sad eyes.

"I'm sorry!" I blurted out immediately.

"You don't have to be sorry. I understand why you wanted to leave. I just wish you didn't feel this way."

I cursed myself for being so descriptive in the note. Could I not have just said "Gtg. Love, Maya."

"I don't always. Sometimes I don't hate myself." I said with a cheesy grin, as if I could make her forget the truth behind my words.

"Maya." She said sternly.

"Charlotte." I mocked.

She gave me a look.

"Okay! Fine. Let's talk about it." I said in a huff. "I wanted to leave because I don't deserve to stay here, and I have to leave eventually anyway, and I don't want the boys to get all confused thinking I'm their sister when I'm NOT and I'm not anyone to you guys."

She seemed to think about each part of my statement carefully. She wasn't looking for the right words to say, but truly processing what I had attempted to convey. I watched her blue eyes hunt for the answers, grateful that they didn't turn to watch me.

"Okay." She said at long last. "Do you want to talk about that today, or something else?"

I can't believe that after all I spilled to her in the note; she was letting me pick what to talk about. I would have so many questions!

"Something else?" I asked shyly, suddenly avoiding eye contact.

She nodded with a small smile.

"Of course."

I stopped for a minute and tried to think, rolling around ideas of what to talk about with her. I finally settled on something that seemed vaguely unimportant but was caught in my mind.

"The bruising is gone."

She looked at me curiously.

"The bruises that were on my body have all faded pretty much." I explained, trying to contain my happiness. "And I just feel a lot better. I'm not sore anymore, or anything."

"That's wonderful news!" she exclaimed. I nodded, pleased.

"What does that feel like?" she asked.

"It feels... better?" I didn't really know what I was feeling. Sometimes it felt like I never did, but I tried to explain to make her happy.

"It feels like that might not be who I am anymore. The girl he liked." I said in a near mumble. I let my hair fall in a curtain over my face and then pushed it back, trying not to hide. My hands twisted together into nervous knots.

"You're not that girl. You're getting so much more confident in yourself."

"I don't know about that." I admitted, looking up into her blue eyes helplessly.

"You are." She affirmed.

"What were you scared of?" she asked suddenly.

"What?"

"When you were leaving the house to run somewhere, what were you afraid of?" she explained.

"Love." I said, before I could think about it too much. "I always have been. But I can't help that."

"Why?"

"It has the power to break a person if it wants to. It can be so terrible. And... he told me he loved me. If that's what love is, Charlotte, I don't want any part."

She knew who I was talking about.

She thought about that for a moment as she looked into space, with a disgruntled expression. She absentmindedly picked up a pen off of the table beside her and licked her lips once in thought, then faced me once more.

"Do you like books that have forms of love in them?" she asked.

Finally! An easier topic!

"Yeah! They're so romantic." I tried not to gush. I was undeniably a badass but hell if I didn't read Twilight and dream of my Edward taking me away.

"What's the love that you read about like?" she posed.

"Umm..." I thought about it. Edward and Bella. Tris and Four. Katniss and Peeta. Ren and Kelsey. America and Maxon. Percy and Annabeth...

"Selfless?" I said, as if it were a question. It wasn't a definite thing in my head, anyway. "Safe. Powerful. Romantic. Sweet."

"Unconditional?" she suggested, to add to the growing list.

"No love is unconditional." I said immediately, shaking my head.

"What if it was?" she asked, tip of the pen she played with on the corner of her mouth. Normally she accepted what I said as if it was the absolute truth. I wasn't used to her questioning my beliefs.

"It can't be." I argued, almost offended by the notion. Something deep inside of me felt ruffled; I was bothered by what she said.

"Picture it." She said, remaining in opposition.

I closed my eyes and tried. It was impossible. I pictured my uncle as he was when I was a kid. His reddish-brown hair almost fully covered his head, and his eyes seemed so much lighter in my flashbacks. Not the deep blue oceans that held terrible plans for me, but ponds filled with little creatures, and life.

He patted the couch beside him as I jumped onto it, smiling in the new dress he bought for me. He even took me to the salon that my mother used to go to and let them cut and style my hair. The dark brown ringlets hung in perfect silky curls as I shook them loose around my face. He pulled out his massive camera and knelt in front of me.

"Smile, my love." He said, pointing his camera at me. I smiled once with bright eyes, and then posed with one arm on my head and one on my hip. He laughed and the sound filled my heart, making me buoyant. I stood up and smiled more, as the camera clicked away.

"Now one without the dress." He said gently, but with authority.

I looked at him, confused. He smiled at my foolishness and reached to pull it off of me, but I hesitated and moved back against the couch. I saw what looked like anger flash across his face but as quickly as the tide, it submerged, and a good-natured smile appeared.

"Now, Maya, don't you want to be a good girl and make me happy?" he asked me. I was cautious with this smile. I knew how quickly it could fade.

Of course, I wanted him happy. I wanted everyone happy. I just didn't see why this had to be the cause.

"Now, Maya." He said harshly, dropping the camera and all pretenses. I slid the warm dress over my head and set it on the couch beside me, fear unmistakable in my eyes.

"That's a girl." He said in the deep velvet voice of his.

I bit my lip in fear, and did what he said, trying not to cry. Did he like hurting me?

I think he noticed the expression on my face, and his loud laughter was answer enough.

When I opened my eyes, I was surprised to find tears in them. My crying had spilled over onto my cheeks, and my throat was thick with emotion. I pulled my hands up immediately, to wipe the fear and my feelings away.

"I just don't think it works that way." I said to Charlotte, sadly.

"And if it did?" she prodded, despite her sorrow for me plain in her eyes.

"Then my uncle lied." I said, pain hitting me like a fist to the heart. "He never loved me at all."