Give Me All Your Pain

Prologue

Abhinav

The room exuded an eerie stillness, and the silence seemed almost palpable, interrupted only by the gentle cadence of my own breath.

In an attempt to divert my thoughts, I turned my attention to the surroundings, hoping to find solace in mere observation.

However, the familiarity of the place left me with nothing new to discover; as I had been here countless times before.

The space exuded an old-fashioned charm, its walls adorned with a soothing beige hue. Although sizable, it was mostly occupied by an eclectic mix of furniture, shelves filled with books, and intriguing antique pieces.

I shifted around in the recliner, trying to get comfortable, but my eyes kept drifting up to the ceiling, as if I might find some answers in its design.

But then, the sound of heavy footsteps on the wooden floor, getting closer to the door, broke my focus.

In the next moment, a figure emerged – grey hair slightly disheveled, eyes absorbed in a file he carried – until he settled on the sofa before me.

The weariness etched on his face was evident, betraying the stress he carried. A frown creased his forehead as he perused something within the file – presumably my reports.

The expression on his face revealed that the contents of those papers were far from pleasing.

I tried to study his features more intently, and in doing so, detected a subtle hint of irritation.

He broke the silence with a statement that bordered on surprise. "You know it's surprising that you are here on time for your appointment," he stated, his gaze still fixed on the file.

I offered no verbal response, for he knew I wouldn't.

Instead, he set the reports aside, diverting his attention entirely toward me. His eyes lingered on my reclining figure as he mentally prepared for the next round of questioning.

"So, what are you feeling?" he inquired, a familiar question that he often posed during our sessions.

How I wished I had a straightforward answer to that. If I truly knew what was churning inside me, would I even seek his counsel?

"I don't know," I replied curtly, truthfully acknowledging my inner turmoil.

After the recent incident, my feelings were even more mixed up, leaving me dealing with a confusing mess of emotions.

There was a long silence as he seemed lost in thought. He looked like he wanted to ask something, but also seemed unsure about bringing it up.

"You still don't want to talk about it. I'm your psychiatrist, Abhinav. It's been years now," he asserted, an undertone of urgency in his voice.

Oh, we were back to that topic again.

The persistent need to delve into my past, to understand how I ended up this way, and what emotions lay dormant within me.

But would revisiting the tales of my childhood offer any solace?

Could talking about my past somehow fix everything?

I had my doubts.

For me, I didn't think it would heal the trauma, at least not in the way other people seemed to think.

And I wasn't ready to go back to those memories, to dig up the feelings I'd kept hidden for so long.

"There's been no improvement in your condition. Your Alexithymia won't get better like this," he insisted.