The Victim (Book #1)

Chapter 48

JJ left, along with Jake, then Christine, and ultimately Val. I went up to my room and slept soundly for once, the energy I exerted draining my insomnia temporarily away.

The morning brought another session with Dr. Charlotte. I knew the drill by now and always tried to skip the pleasantries. Why did therapists ask how you were doing at the beginning of the session if you were going to talk about it in a couple minutes already? I told her I was good, and it was actually true. I woke up feeling refreshed, I had already finished some of my homework, and last night was so fun!

"I showed JJ my room!" I told her, trying to tone down the excitement I felt.

"How was that?" she asked, seeming genuinely interested.

"It was good." I said shyly. I still always felt weird talking about the things that I loved, or things that made me excited. A voice in my head asked me why she would care, despite seeing my excitement mirrored in her eyes and listening to her voice bubble higher with mine.

"Yeah?" she asked, encouraging me to continue talking. The light streamed in from the window, enhancing the cheerful mood I was in. 

"Yeah." I said, refusing to give in. Why did I have a problem saying things that meant something to me? It was as if I was afraid she would use it against me at some point. 

"How so?" she asked, giving me a look that told me to keep talking.

"Well," I paused to collect my thoughts. "It was really fun because I've never really taken someone to my room before and normally I don't, because I want it to be a safe place just for me. Untainted, I guess."

"Why is that?" she asked. I figured that she knew the answer but wanted me to come to the conclusion on my own.

I looked up at her serious gaze. "You know your eyes look a lot like Caleb's." I deflected, although it was true. The blue may have been a different shade but the part surrounding the pupil was nearly identical.

"His eyes are more like his father, I believe." She said, smiling in a gentle way, but psychically willing me to continue talking about myself. She raised an eyebrow as I nodded slowly, stalling.

"Okay, okay," I said. "When I was a kid, I felt like my room was the one place that I was truly safe. I had my stuffed animals to talk to, my blanket to hide under, and it was quiet in there. I like the quiet. I think I always want my room to feel that way. Safe."

She nodded in understanding. "So, it was a big deal to bring someone into that safe space with you, wasn't it? That takes a lot of trust."

I shrugged as if it wasn't a big deal, but inwardly I was beaming. I loved it when she guessed correctly, and when she complimented me. I wasn't sure I could accept what she was saying, but I did accept that she truly meant what she was saying when she said it.

"Is it lame to be so concerned with these little goals?" I said in a hushed tone, curling my legs tighter beneath me. My left foot was starting to fall asleep, but I didn't want to move.

"Do you think it's lame?"

I considered it. "Maybe?" I thought saying yes would be too harsh to myself and I'd be reprimanded but saying no would be a lie.

"Why?"

"Because nobody else my age is celebrating these miniature goals. They're getting their licenses and acing tests, and I'm letting people into my room and trying not to cry. What kind of victory is that?" I asked dryly.

She pondered my words.

"Einstein once said 'if you judge a fish by its ability to climb a tree, it will spend it's whole life believing it is stupid'." She stated.

"I don't think I'm stupid." I said, pursing my lips.

"No?" she asked. The corners of her eyes crinkled the way they did when I said something that she perceived to be a joke.

"No." I said staunchly.

"Good. Because we both know you're not. But do you understand what I'm getting at?"

"You're saying that my silly goals are valuable, even if they wouldn't mean anything to someone else," I elaborated. "To be fair, their goals would probably mean very little to me."

She nodded, waving a hand to allow me to continue speaking. I'm sure she could see the gears spinning in my head. You could almost hear them.

"Which one is right though? Theirs, or mine?"

She let out a little huff of air that I tried not to react sensitively too. I was positive that sometimes she simply needed to breathe, and I read far too much into her minute actions.

"Is there a right answer?" she asked, shrugging her shoulders.

"Aren't you supposed to tell me that? Some therapist you are!" I teased with a scoff, although I checked her expression to make sure she knew I was kidding. She chuckled, humoring me and allowing me to deflect, this time.

"How about we talk about it again next time?" She said with a smile, as the tension poured out of the room and the excitement of a day ahead of me filled its spot. Another session passed and I didn't even mention him! Maybe I was getting better. Maybe someday I wouldn't even remember him, just like I was sure he didn't remember me.

"You alright?" she asked, eyes scanning my face. I wonder what my expression had become. I smiled and nodded only a little bit too quickly.

"Yep! Thank you." I said before slipping out the door and closing it shut behind me.

She walked back over to her desk and pulled open her laptop to continue writing. Her eyes may have been focused on the screen, but her mind seemed to be elsewhere. As I walked, I wondered if her thoughts were following me, all the way up the stairs and back into my bedroom.