Chapter 6
Tara
Present Day
Ioften wished that there were a way to erase my memories.Not just the painful ones, the happy ones too. When your life takes a turn for the worst, the way mine had, you want a choice - to be able to willingly erase each and every trace of the past.
I don't want to start my life over. That would be cowardly. Instead, I wanted to start my life from this point, from this moment, no matter how messed up things may be right now. Because my eyes are open now, I see people for what they are. I see situations more distinctly. I know I'll never be a fool again.
I sat in my psychologist's office. Dr. Blake was a cheerful, middle-aged woman, and we'd been getting along well enough. She was not pushy or judgemental, and I often found myself talking to her openly. Although at times, I wondered if she was the one I was truly talking to or if I was simply talking to myself, reminding myself of the things I needed to let go of.
"It's good to see you again, Tara," she smiled kindly. "How are you feeling since our last session?"
She wore a pale blue pantsuit with a white shirt, her dark hair swept up in an elegant bun at the back of her head. She had minimal makeup, making her look more youthful, seated in a comfortable chair across from me. Her office overlooked the park across the street. I watched a flock of black-billed cuckoos who were said to call before the rain. We could use the rain - the weather had been far too cheerful lately.
"I don't actually know," I felt like I could be honest with her. "Sometimes, I just feel angry. Furious, like I can get up and walk out of here, go back to that bastard and take back what is mine, take back what he stole from me, and then I remember how impossible that is. I just feel stuck." I looked down at my wheelchair and shook my head.
“Temporarily,” she reminded me.
I sighed. Dr. Blake has been trying to get me to accept that this is a temporary state of mind and body I was in and that nothing was prohibiting me from taking my life back. She didn't realize that there were times when I didn't want my life back. Times when I was quite comfortable right here, where I don't have to fear for my life.
"Temporarily," I repeated, not believing it. The word left my mouth, sounding like a filthy lie.
I was depressed, I could admit that. And I feel like a failure. I hadn’t put in half the effort required to get myself on my feet again.
"Tara, you're thirty-five years old, you're physically strong enough to recover. Your bones, joints, muscles, and tendons are all catching up. You're healing. Your latest results have been phenomenal. Yes, it is going to take time, and you're impatient, but it will happen. I don't doubt that."
I wanted to believe her, I honestly did, but it was not so much the lack of effort but the lack of will. If I did all these things and I finally got to walk out of here, what then? Where did I go from there? What was left for me out there?
“What happened to you is not your fault. You know that, right? None of it.”
"Then, why do I feel the way I do?"
"Because you programmed yourself to take the blame, and those accountable didn’t. But the fact that you're here talking to me is proof that you refuse to believe it anymore."
She was so optimistic all the time, and I doubted her profession had anything to do with that. Gosh, if I had her job, I'd be the most depressed person on the planet.
“So, I hear you have a new therapist,” she looked through my file. “How is that going?”
"Okay, I suppose," I didn't tell her that I knew him, or that I wished Brooke would come back sooner. I didn't want to sound immature.
"I hear he is really good at what he does, and he's stubborn, so that could be good for you."
I rolled my eyes, and she smiled.
"You're going to be alright, Tara. You just have to start trusting yourself a little more."
I looked outside the window and watched as the first drops of rain trickled down the window.
* * *
After my session,I felt emotionally exhausted. I lay in my bed with my eyes closed, listening to the chatter around me. I couldn't hear what they were saying anymore, their voices faded into one another until all I could hear was an array of distorted sounds. I'd never felt so drained in my life. Actually, I did. I'm always exhausted. It's not Dr. Blake's fault. That's just the way it is.
My eyes sprung open when I heard a familiar male voice.
"Hello, ladies,"
"Hi," I could hear Tessa purring, rolling my eyes as I opened them.
