I considered walking out, but the guilt stopped me. She’d graciously offered to see me between two other patients today when I’d texted her on Saturday asking to see her sooner than Friday. Enoch had pressed about me seeing her and I wanted toprove to him that I was serious about stopping. I didn’t want to disappoint him.
The door to her office suddenly opened and my eyes jumped from my bag to the man leaving. He seemed surprised to see me sitting there, and quickly averted his gaze, rushing to the exit.
Sarah stepped into the doorway, her eyes casting over me before she smiled.
“Come on in.”
I sighed and followed her into her space. The familiar essential oils were already trying to work their spell on me as I sat down on the leather couch and placed my bag between my legs.
I cleared my throat, glancing around the room before landing on Sarah’s face. “Thank you for squeezing me in.”
“Of course,” she said, crossing her legs and leaning back in her chair. “I’m glad that you reached out. Did you make that list?”
Shit. I’d completely forgotten.
“Um, mentally. I didn’t write it down.”
Sarah nodded and reached toward the small table beside her, tearing out a sheet of paper from her notebook. She slid it across the coffee table with a pen.
I sighed, glancing at my backpack. Maybe I was a coward, but I couldn’t tell her. Not yet. I would. Maybe.
I leaned forward and picked up the pen, quickly jotting down a few things that had triggered me recently.
‘I’m sorry’
Bathtub
Shoulder
Cutting my hair
Baptism
Javi
I sighed again before sliding the paper in her direction, trying to brace myself for whatever the hell she was going to say.
I stared as she read the list, trying to glean something from her passive expression. Sarah suddenly looked at me from over the paper, and I tensed, my stomach swirling.
“This first one, ‘I’m sorry’?”
My heart thudded and I swallowed thickly. I watched her study my reaction as she put the paper down.
“Why does that phrase scare you?”
“Scare me,” I repeated, shaking my head as I ground my molars together.
“Yes. Tell me about it. Why does that phrase make you afraid?”
I cracked my knuckles as I flicked my gaze to my backpack again. Fuck, I needed it. I didn’t want to fucking talk about it. Talk about how I’d let them taint me, screw up my brain.
“So fucking stupid,” I muttered to myself.
“What’s stupid?”
I scoffed, crossing my arms. “Me.Me.I’mfucking stupid. Hell, I was so fucking stupid.”
“Why?” she asked.
