I start typing.
Me: I'm home. But…I'm not doing great. I feel super guilty about ruining your date. I can't stop thinking about hurting myself again.
I stare at the message for one breath, then hit send. I'm not going to hurt myself. I haven't wanted to in months. But tonight isn't about truth. It's about our unbreakable connection.
The response appears immediately.
Red: Is this real, or are you trying to manipulate me again?
Me: Sorry. I shouldn't have bothered you. I've done enough damage tonight.
Red: Are you alone?
Me: Yes. At home in my bed.
Dots appear then disappear.
He's panicking.
Good.
Red: Do you have anything nearby that could cut you?
Me: No. I want to obey you.
Red: Obey me?
Me: You told me to text you before I grabbed a knife.
A quick moment passes.
Red: I'm glad you didn't grab anything sharp.
Me: Like I said. I want to obey you.
I slide my hand over my chest, circling a finger over my nipple.
Too much time passes without a reply. I slide my hand over my cut thigh, pressing.
Me: My thoughts won't stop. My breath is speeding up.
Red: Put both feet on the floor. Try to take a slow inhale. Identify five things in the room.
I laugh at his clinical response.
Me: I can't. I keep replaying you walking away. I shouldn't have asked to talk. I shouldn't have confronted you. I messed everything up. I ruined your relationship.
There's a long pause. I wait to see if he'll take the bait.
Red: You're misinterpreting what happened. This conversation isn't appropriate outside of session. We'll talk during your next appointment.
No. We'll talk now.
Me: I don't have another appointment. Shirley wasn't there. I don't think I can get through tonight. I don't trust myself. Can you come over?
Deafening silence follows.
Old ghosts of Brax, who never replied to my text messages, terrorize me. My blood turns cold.
