"I mean, it was Silas who tried to kill himself, so I just thought—"
"Because it wasn't you. It wasn't a priority," he finishes.
I nod.
"You stopped your brother from trying to kill himself. You saved his life. Your mind can tell you that it wasn't you, but your nervous system doesn't forget that terror. And then the thoughts that spiralled from that. You saw your brother lose the love of his life, empathizing with him, while also grieving your sister, and then dealing with the fear of your own wife's mortality."
As he speaks, I realize how empty I feel... no, not empty.
Drained. Of energy. Of fight. Of fear.
Underneath it all is relief, blooming slowly but surely.
"Why did you never talk to your wife about that night, Atlas?"
"I don't know..." I shrug, clenching my fists. "I guess I just thought I gave her what she needed to know—the important parts. Silas was drunk. I stayed with him to make sure he was okay. I also... I didn't know if Silas even wanted anybody to know about that night.”
Dr. Mason nods. “You never talked to your brother either?”
I shake my head. “No. We haven’t talked that much. He’s been busy getting his life back together, taking care of his girls. When I saw him last, he was smiling. I was happy that he was happy, but then I would go home and go to sleep and..."
"Have a nightmare of your wife dying, unable to stop it."
I nod.
"What caused you to want to come here to seek help?"
"My wife is separating from me."
Dr. Mason's lips twitch.
"What?"
"It took you losing your wife to address your fear of losing your wife," his hand made a so-so motion. "Not in the way you were scared to, but still..."
I huff a humorless laugh. "Yeah, I guess so."
"How did you feel when you found out about her wanting to separate from you?"
I think back to that horrible day, being served, reading those words, and feeling as though I was abruptly yanked out of a deep dream..
"It was like... waking from a daze," I shake my head, recalling the fear of reading the words on that document. "Holding those papers in my hand. Realizing how badly I fucked everything up."
"But now you're here. Getting help."
I shrug, helpless.
"What if it's too late?"
Dr. Mason gives me a small smile.
"What if it's not?"
???
After a week, it's easy to get into a routine here.
The nightmares have been stagnant, neither decreasing nor increasing. I don't sleep well when Wendy isn't in bed. I never have, always needing to hear her breathing, her soft, sleepy noises, needing to breathe in the smell of that lotion she puts on before bed.
