Tethered

Chapter Eight

1

Warm water from the shower poured down on Sarah. She sat in the tub, hugging her knees. She felt so weak, so vulnerable. She didn't know who she was anymore or who she could become. She felt like she was incapable of telling between what was real and what wasn't. Was it all just illusions? Illusions so realistic? So alive? Where did she possibly go wrong?

Was it all just surreality? She wasn't like this before. What changed? What happened? She was afraid she might know the answer to that. That night. That night, in the cold. That night lingered at the corners of her mind. Could it be the start? The very beginning? That, she didn't know. When was the beginning? The beginning of her torment? The beginning of her trauma?

Her father, yes. He was a part of it. A minor section of everything. No, not a minor section—he was a huge section of everything. He turned her into a beast. He made her into who she'd become—the horrible her. He caused it. The realization of that brought her to tears, but she didn't cry. She blinked back the tears, trying to clear the confusion instead. She needed an immediate escape. A light at the end of a tunnel. A door. Somewhere she could breathe. She was scared, and she was tired.

2

The door to her bedroom opened, and Cynthia peered in. "You've been in here for ages, come on, she's here", she said.

Sarah nodded, a new fear building in. Maybe she could cooperate and see where it would lead her. The pretty woman seemed nice. Maybe she could cooperate—just maybe.

3

Karen Scott, the pretty woman smiled sweetly at Sarah. She wore a black dress that slightly reached above her knees. The black heels she wore flumped dully on the wooden floor. This time around, she carried a notebook with her. To Sarah, the woman was a symbol of professionalism—beautiful and mindful. Sarah envied her. The woman looked genuinely free—like a bird.

"How are you doing, Sarah?" She asked, taking a seat before the large windowpane. Sarah took a seat in front of her, and Cynthia sat on the couch at the far side of the large room. Sarah had requested for Cynthia to be with her. She still didn't feel quite safe with this Karen Scott.

Sarah nodded. "Good", she croaked, cleared her throat and swallowed. She shot Cynthia a nervous glare, and Cynthia nodded with a smile.

"Anything you want to tell me before we start?" Karen asked.

Sarah shook her head. She wanted this to be over soon. Sitting there and having this woman question her made her feel like she was in jail, answering questions to a murder she didn't commit. How nerve-wrecking?

"Good", Karen smiled softly. "I don't want you to feel uncomfortable around me. I'm only here to help. If anything, really, you can trust me."

Sarah nodded again. The back of her wool sweater was slightly soaked by her wet hair. She touched the area, her fingers icy cold on her skin. She thought about what Karen Scott had said: Trust was a strong word, and she wasn't about to trust Karen Scott regardless of what she did or how professional she looked.

"Okay", Karen said, rubbing her hands together. "Before we official begin, I wanted to inform you that, Gary, my personal assistant will be staying here with you to monitor your progress from time to time."

4

Sarah coughed. "That's kinda invading my privacy", she said

"No, Sarah. It's helping you", Karen smiled again. Then, she yelled the man's name. The door opened, and Gary stepped in. Sarah recognized him immediately. The college student. The guy who had chased after her and caught her right before the headache.