The Survivor (Book #2)

Chapter 38

I woke up in my bed the next morning with vague memories of getting there. I remembered seeing the movie and Damon picking me up and embarrassing me. I remembered the car ride home, and then I think I fell asleep. I blushed as I realized someone must have carried me in and placed me in bed. I could almost picture Dominic scooping me out of the backseat, but it might've just been my imagination.

Bright sunlight was coming in through the curtains softly, and I knew it was still early morning. Charlotte and I had planned for another session this morning, so I really took my time getting ready, avoiding it for as long as possible.

I brushed my teeth, brushed my hair, and straightened it, and then changed outfits although I knew I'd be home for most of the day. Finally, I threw my phone in my pocket and padded downstairs to Charlotte's office, knocking lightly on the door.

"Come in, Maya!" Charlotte chirped.

I walked in with a grimace, not even trying to hide my feelings, and shut the door behind me. I plopped in my armchair as usual and tried not to be outwardly grumpy at having to talk to someone about my feelings.

She smirked, seeing right through me.

"Not in the mood today?" she asked, switching from her desk chair to the usual chair she sat in across from me. She lifted her coffee cup to her lips and took a long sip, waiting for me to speak. 

"When am I in the mood to talk about myself?" I offered honestly.

She smiled, conceding the point. 

"What do you want to talk about today?" she asked, getting straight to the heart. I tried not to groan out loud.

"Can't you pick something?" I whined.

"Please?" I begged. "I'll deal with it!"

She thought about it for a solid minute, until I was sure she was going to give in.

"No. Your turn." She stated, with the confidence and cockiness that each of her sons possessed.

I inhaled and exhaled heavily, thinking about topics that I might bring up. There was my uncle of course, the abuse, panic attacks, anxiety, depression, my fear of love... and then something hit me.

I straightened up in my seat, which got her curious.

"I do have one question," I said, praying that her endless fount of knowledge would once again help me understand myself better.

"Well, I..." I trailed off, trying to envision how I wanted to say this. I was a verbal processor but sometimes I would speak before I understood what I was trying to say. I began again.

"Lately, just occasionally, I've been having this weird... thing, where something happens to my body, and I can't control it and I don't know why," I explained, mentally slapping myself in the face. Could I have explained it any worse? She put down her coffee and tried to process that as I tried again.

 "For example, I was going to sleep the other night and I put my hands next to each other beside my head, and then it felt like they froze there. They didn't move and I couldn't move them. And my heart started racing like a panic attack, but nothing was happening and then it just wore off. Like I was frozen and then it thawed." I tried to recount what happened in detail, but I wasn't sure she was getting it.

She considered it, chewing on her lower lip, and staring upwards as if trying to organize her thoughts in the air above us.

"I think I know what you're talking about. Are there any other examples? Other times?" she asked. I felt a rush at the thought that I might not be crazy, so I tried to think of other cases I had experienced.