Total pages in book: 79
Estimated words: 74226 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 371(@200wpm)___ 297(@250wpm)___ 247(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 74226 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 371(@200wpm)___ 297(@250wpm)___ 247(@300wpm)
My throat clogs up with emotions. With feelings I don’t want to face. I open my eyes and sit up to look around my small cell. Back to reality. “I don’t want to do that right now.”
“That’s okay. You don’t have to do anything you are not comfortable with. You did great,” she praises me. “This was a good start, and we learned a lot about you already. A lot of useful insights that will make it easier to treat you.”
For the rest of our session, we talk about the lighter side of my childhood, good memories with my adoptive parents and Luna, things I don’t mind sharing. Quite the opposite, I like to recall them. Those are times I cherish, and I hadn’t thought about for a while.
“That was a good session,” Dr. Stone exclaims as she gets up from her chair outside my cell. She gathers her things and places everything in her oversized purse. “If you don’t mind, I would like to give you a little bit of homework.”
“Not sure if I have time. I’m kind of busy sitting around here and doing nothing,” I joke, making the doctor laugh.
“Well, if you find a few minutes here and there, I would like you to prepare yourself to talk more about the bad times of your childhood. I know it doesn’t feel good, and your instinct is to just not talk about it. But to treat you properly we unfortunately have to go there.”
“How exactly do I prepare?” I question.
“Just think about it in your head. We want to be able to validate that little boy’s feelings. Tell that part of you that you are stronger now, that you will take on those monsters so he doesn’t have to.”
“That sounds a little odd, but I guess I’ll try it.” Not like I have anything better to do.
“Oh, I almost forgot. I brought you a book about DID.” She digs in her purse, pulling out a paperback. She hands me the book through the iron bars. I flip it over so I can see the cover and read the title; Dissociative Identity Disorder for Patients.
“I will give it a go,” I promise as I flip through the colorful pages.
“I’ll see you tomorrow,” Dr. Stone says before walking down the long hallway. The click clacking of her heels slowly fading away until I’m by myself once again.
13
REN
How do prisoners with a life sentence do this? How do they live day in and day out in a cell, with nothing to do, nowhere to go? Nobody to talk to, either. I swear, if I didn’t already have a problem in my brain, I would before long. There’s nothing to do but think and stare at the ceiling.
This isn’t all about keeping me away from the rest of the family. It’s not about keeping Scarlet safe. I’m being punished, too. This is my sentence after everything I’ve done. It doesn’t matter that I don’t remember it. It doesn’t matter that I could have killed Q, but wasn’t able to bring myself to do it. The same is true with Aspen. I couldn’t go through with it.
But River could have. River would have. And River is me, and Xander can’t forgive that. He might try to help me, but he won’t forgive. Which is why I’m isolated, with no entertainment except for a big book the doctor left for me and no trips outside for fresh air.
The only thing I have to look forward to in my day is a visit from Scarlet and my parents, though my family visits are usually short and tense. Scarlet promised to bring dinner tonight, and my heart jumps when her footsteps echo down the hall. “Dinner time!” she calls out. It’s the sweetest thing I’ve heard all day.
I drag the cot over to the bars and sit down in time for her to set the tray down on one of the chairs positioned across from me. There’s a slot close to the floor, giving her just enough room to slide a plate underneath. I lift the lid to find a sandwich, chips, a few fresh cookies that smell like chocolate and sugar. I was hoping for something a little more substantial, but I understand the thought process. They don’t want me to have anything I would need a knife and fork for. Not yet. Scarlet, meanwhile, has a plate of grilled chicken and roasted potatoes. I’m too hungry to care about the difference right now.
I’m too glad to be with her. Everything is brighter, somehow. Better. It’s easy to lose hope while wasting my life away in a cell, but she restores it just by being here. Letting me bask in her light and warmth.
“How are you feeling?” she asks while I take a huge bite of the thick sandwich. It’s loaded with turkey and cheese, plus a thick layer of mayonnaise.