Violence In A Quiet Mind

Chapter 7.

"Open the door Inna, I'm sorry you felt like this after everything." Mum kept on banging my door. It was getting me frustrated. I place my journal under my pillow and walk to the bathroom to wash my face just so remove any sign of tears shed before. She kept on banging on my door and I couldn't take it.

"Just stop okay! It is annoying." I scream at her from my room. It hurts me I was doing this to her, and we planned to go out but guess what? It's not happening because of me. I was pacing in my room as images of what happened in my past town kept on flashing in my eyes. I was pacing, my breath getting heavier, hands were shaking. I brought my hands close to my body as I wrapped it around just to stop it from shaking but it wasn't working. I walk to my bed slowly and sat cross legged on it trying to calm myself but nothing wasn't working. I was concentrating on myself that I saw an image of my dad hugging me. "Inna don't cry, go open the door for your mum." My dad soothes me. I blink twice but he was still there. "I thought you were gone." I was breathing heavily. He shook his head and smiled at me.

"Inna...Inna are you okay?" Mum looked frantic as she sat on my bed and dad disappeared. I was shaking violently, crying.

"Dad...was....here" I wept. She engulfed me in a hug and rubbed my back slowly to calm me. I was calmed a little but my tears didn't stop.

"Oh honey, I'm sorry." She mumbled. I hug her tightly afraid she will also leave. "We have to see a therapist." She stated sternly leaving no room for argument. I wanted to protest against the idea but I had nothing to oppose against it. I guess we are seeing this therapist after all.

"Are you ready?" Mum asked as I buckled my seatbelt on. After the whole charade, mum gave me time to shower, we ate and she decided we had to go and see a therapist today because the earlier the better. I still was against the idea because they make you feel like you are getting mad and you needed immediate treatment. After thirty minutes drive through the town we arrived at a building. The building looked nice a white and cream but it wasn't my main interest. We walked into the building, and a lot of people were walking back and forth with other patients I think with them. Others were talking while some people were helping each other. It looked like a rehabilitation center for sick people. I sigh and followed my mum, we got to a brown door with the name Abigail Baker imprinted on a silver plate on the door. We opened it and a woman who looked like in her late thirties sat there talking to a patient. She looked up and smiled at my mum and I. She said something briefly to the older woman sitting beside her. They hugged and the older woman left.

"So you are the Powell's. How nice to meet you." The lady walked to us and shake both our hands. She gestured as to sit on the green sofa and let me add it was comfortable.

"Water?" She asked us. We politely decline.

"Miss. Baker this is my daughter, Inna. I spoke to you about her during our last conversation." Mum began, the woman glanced at me and smiled.

"Yes, she looks okay, I hope she is eating." Miss Baker asks my mum and I think if she is a nutritionist or a therapist.

"She is okay. I wanted her to start her sessions today." Mum added. She nodded and looked at me once more.

"Okay can you give us thirty minutes alone?" She hinted. Mum gave me a side hug and left the room. I took in my surroundings and the place was okay. I focus my attention on the woman sitting across me. She didn't have that pitiful smile or sympathetic look people gave me. She was smiling..just smiling.

"So I'm sorry for everything that has happened." Miss Baker spoke and I diverted my gaze away from her. That word sorry won't bring them back. I frown looking around just to avoid her gaze.

"Inna listen, a piece of you still aches, with broken bones, embroidered lace but you are still of age." She continues and I look at her with a sad expression.

"I still shoulder the pain." I whispered to her.

"That's why I am here to help. Tell me your story and we'll find a way through this. As old as you are, you're still young, so look alive." She rests on her chair getting comfortable.

I narrate everything to her with this sudden sorrow, grief laced in my tone.