I glared at him, anger burning through me, making my right arm itch worse than it already was. My entire body felt hot with my rising temper. I contained it, even though I wanted to throw something, yell, scream, rage at the top of my lungs until someone finally heard me.
“He picked up a knife,” I stated coldly, “and told me to do it again.” Something flashed across Daxton’s expression. Just as quick as it had appeared, it was gone, leaving me to wonder what the change in emotion was. He didn’t continue with his questions about Craig and I’s past relationship, either because we had run out of time or because he was well adapted at reading my not-so-subtle frustration.
“I have a strange request — if you’re okay with me asking.”
That piqued my interest. “Sure, what is it?”
“Would you be okay giving me permission to reach out to your sister and see if she could bring me your journals?”
I frowned at him, not expecting that to be what he would ask me for. Essentially, he was asking for a physical object, but it felt as though he was putting in a request for part of my soul.
“Why would you want them?”
“Like I said before, I don’t think you’re suicidal. It would help me make a case to your psychiatric care team for how your treatment needs to be handled. They won’t release you early, but it might at least get it off your record that you were admitted for a suicideattempt. I can’t promise you anything, but I’d like the chance to really dig into this.”
The way he said ‘dig into this’ made it sound like it translated directly into ‘dig into your mind’. My skeletons were buried deeply in the past; giving him those journals would not just drag them out of their graves, but expose secrets I had never exhumed from their final resting place once they were placed there.
“If I let you have them, will I get them back?”
“Yes, Raelynn, upon your release, I will send them all home with you in the same condition they arrive in.”
“And whatever you read, it stays confidential?”
“Yes, everything in our sessions would remain confidential. The only people privy to anything we talk about, or anything I would read in this case, would be just the two of us.”
I hesitated, weighing the options presented to me. The idea that a suicide attempt would be in my medical record was a heavy burden on my shoulders. How would that impact me in the future if any issues ever arose again? The number of people who could see that information and pass judgment on me without knowing the truth. Anyone I wrote about in my journals had no idea they were a subject for me at one point or another. So as long as the information never saw the light of day, it would be worth the risk to me. To be free from that label.
“Okay, as long as anyone in those journals never knows what I wrote aboutthem.”
“I promise they will only be used professionally. I’ll just need you to sign a release form. Even though Michelle is your next of kin, that doesn’t grant her the right to obtain any information regarding your mental health status. If you want her to be able to talk to your doctors or speak on your behalf for your treatment, I can add that on.”
“No, just a release for you to ask her for the journals. I’m fine keeping control over my treatment.” It wasn’t that I didn’t trust my sister. I trusted her completely. The need to maintain control over something right now, when my life was so chaotically out of control, was too strong. I was without the ability to control anything in my life behind these walls, and I needed to maintain the illusion of control over at least one thing.
“Okay, give me just one moment to get that form,” he closed his notebook and took it and his pen over to his desk. Daxton had to remove keys from his pocket to open his filing cabinet. It took him a moment to locate the form he was looking for, shutting the file cabinet drawer, making his muscles in his forearm flex visibly from where he had rolled up his sleeves. He paused at his desk, setting the paper down to fill it out, before handing it to me.
It was a straightforward release form, only granting permission for him to verbally speak to my sister. It didn’t give any access to any of my files or medical information. Not that I wouldn’t share that information with her on my own, I just wanted to be the one to share it. Michelle would understand that, too. She's never beenhurt by my need to maintain control over something. Even if it was just one trivial thing, it helped alleviate the anxiety that acted like barbed wire around my mind. The more I fought against it, the harder it dug in.
After quickly signing the form, I handed him back the pen and paper. He set them back on his desk before checking his watch.
“We’ve run out of time for today. Are you ready for me to walk you back?”
I nodded, replacing the pillow to where I had found it and following him out the door. I followed behind him, his body language setting me on edge. While being with Craig, I learned how to pick up on how the body changed when it was under the control of certain emotions. I didn’t have a choice when it came to my relationship with him; either I learned how to read them and even more so how to avoid them, or I would risk instigating a fight. Daxton's shoulders remained tense as we made our way back to my hall. I couldn’t predict his reactions like I could Craig’s, but I could tell he was stressed about something that hadn’t been there before our session.
August 8th 2020
Last night was probably the worst night Craig and I have ever had. And he’s right. I am crazy. He wanted to take me out to dinner, but I asked if we could just go to a movie instead. So far, I had lost almost twenty pounds, and I couldn’t continue on that trend if he had taken me out to eat like he had planned to. Most of the places he liked to go served good food, and I knew my willpower would give in and I would want to eat a full meal.
He didn’t like my suggestion, though. He kept wanting to know why and wouldn’t stop pushing me for a different answer, no matter what I said, he didn’t believe me. It wasn’t until I went to walk away to leave his place that he realized the truth. Craig had grabbed my arm when I went to leave, right on top of fresh cuts that I had been keeping hidden under my long clothes. I hissed, but quickly silenced myself, only it was too late to undo the damage.
Yanking me back away from the door, he ripped my sleeve up, not giving me a choice in the matter. The look on his face was worse than the words that came out of his mouth when he saw what I had done. “Fucking crazy bitch.” I know why he said it. I am crazy. He hit the nail on the head when he accused me of starving myself, too. “You belongin an institution for the mentally insane, that way they can properly medicate you and fix your fucked up head.”
I couldn’t even bring myself to cry over his words because he was right. What type of person did this to themselves? Certainly not a sane one. The worst part was when he stormed into his kitchen and came back with a steak knife, trying to force it in my hand. He was screaming so close to my face that flecks of spittle landed on me. But I’ll do better, I have to do better.
Chapter ten
The Phoenix
September 25th 2023
