I let that sit for a second. My next check-in with the psychiatrist was in a few days, but I already knew how it would go. He’d fight me on this, withdrawal or not.
“If I may,” Anna said. “If you’re thinking about stopping anything, maybe also think about timing. Is now really the best time, with everything else going on?”
Yes. Now was theexactright time. The flashbacks were horrible, but they felt like pieces of me trying to break through the fog. I was unraveling either way. I had to find a way to dig up memories too deep for pills to reach.
I nodded. “Thank you, Anna.”
She nodded back, but the concern didn’t leave her face. “Will you promise me that you’ll talk to your psychiatrist first? Don’t stop anything on your own. It can be really dangerous. I’m not a doctor, and I can’t say for sure what’s safe and what’s not.”
A faint smile tugged at the corners of my lips. “I’ll see him in a few days.” That was true, and it would make her think I was saying yes.
“Good. We have about five more minutes. You said earlier you had an important question for me?”
“Yeah.” I straightened on the bench. “The nightmares. They keep circling back to my childhood. And I told you how I haven’t spoken to my parents in a long time?”
“Yes. I remember. Very understandable, from what you told me about them. Especially the parts about your uncle’s rape attempt and your mother covering it up.”
“Yes.” It still hurt, even now, all these years later. “I wonder if it’s time to confront my parents about the scar on my neck. My dad. And my mom. Ask her why she enabled him. Ask him if he feels any remorse. Do you think that’s a good idea?”
“Only you can answer that, Emily,” Anna said gently. “It would be incredibly stressful for you to contact them, and it could trigger another psychotic episode. Do the benefits you’re hoping for outweigh the emotional risks?”
My hand moved over the fur of the old, one-eyed shepherd curled near my feet. The allergy meds had kicked in, so at least the bumps on my skin were gone.
“Yes,” I finally said, clear and steady. The certainty in my voice caught even me off guard. “I don’t expect her to apologize or thank me for defending her against my dad, but maybe she’ll finally admit there was abuse. I just...I feel like it could bring me closure to confront them. To tell them what it cost me.”
Anna tilted her head, not looking fully convinced. “It’s your right to call them. The timing is yours too. But maybe, maybe we could try to talk to them in a session? Invite them in. Even over speakerphone. No need for a laptop or video call.”
“The chance of that happening is almost zero,” I said. “They’d never do anything for me.”
“That must hurt a lot.”
“It does,” I admitted. “But not as bad as it used to. Not now that I have Daniel.” Even saying his name stung. The tension between us, the fights—every day chipped away at us a little more. Our relationship was strained, fragile in ways I hadn’t wanted to admit. Of course, Anna noticed.
“We could always invite him to a session too.”
“That’s actually starting to sound like a good idea.” A small breath left my chest. “He’d do it. No doubt about that.”
“Well,” Anna said, leaning back slightly, “feel free to talk to him. I’ll leave it up to you. This is your therapy, Emily. You’re in the driver’s seat.”
“Thank you, Anna.”
Her glance at the corner of the screen told me we were out of time.
“Well, I’ll see you Thursday, right?” she asked.
“Yes. Ten a.m.”
“Keep writing your triggers in the journal. And make sure to talk to the psychiatrist before stopping any meds. Don’t stop them on your own.”
I smiled at her. “See you Thursday, Anna.”
“Take care.”
Chapter 20
I didn’t take my meds that night, even though Anna had told me to wait for my appointment with the psychiatrist. I already knew he’d try to talk me out of it. But I needed the memories. Ineededto remember more.
However, instead of experiencing flashbacks and tossing in bed, I just lay there, staring at the ceiling. It was 2:36 a.m.
