The Target

Epilogue

"Amy, it's been two weeks! You always beat around that day. Why don't you come straight to the point and discuss with me?" Blaine asked. I sat quietly across the couch, staring at his therapist badge.

It has been six months. Initial months went to major procedures by the police department. Testaments, witnessing, history, and all the protocols. For three months I denied therapy and went back to the only thing that calmed me, cutting. I sent my parents back, ignored Harry and Beverely's attempts. I shut everyone off. Until Harry forced me to visit some Mr. Blaine.

Six months later and two weeks into the session and I am still not ready to talk about it. That day, his expressions, Harry and Beverly's condition still scare me. Every time I think about it, willingly, it's like I am living it. Like it never went away.

"AMY!" Blaine snapped me out of my thoughts. "These sessions are useless until you open up about that day. So either you start speaking or..." he trailed off. I let off a big sigh and started telling him everything.

Usually, my sessions are for an hour and a half. But this one extended to two. By the time I finished my tale, he had filled up two pages of his notebook. "I am sorry for everything you went through. Tell me, three months after that you were watching Adam get his sentence. How did you feel?" I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. "I... don't know. I know I should have felt relieved but-" I stopped. He nodded his head in affirmation. "Can you pull up your sleeves?" He asked abruptly. I looked at him in shock. I haven't told him about my cutting. I know he's the therapist but I don't want to stop. Sliding that blade across my wrist reminds me every time I came close to death and yet so far away. "I can't!" I replied. "Ok! But Harry, your friend, is worried for you. Those scars that you are hiding are worrying him," He told me. I pulled my sleeves even more down and stared at the wall behind him. Suddenly, I got up, thanked him, and ran out.

I never went back again. I picked up my bags and disappeared. No one knew where I went. Not even my parents. But I had to! I had to get out of this city. This city of sick memories and unforgiving truths. Besides, there was nothing that kept me sane anymore. It felt like I had lost all connection with my inner peace and all that is left is a void. A dark, gripping void. Every day I get at least 40 missed calls from my parents, Harry, and Beverly. But I ignore them all.

**********

It's been two years now. The scars on my arm don't vanish. The calls have been reduced to messages. I have found a job as a bartender. And I earn enough to buy myself food, pay my rent and get new razors every week.

Life has been hard. The remnants of that day still haunt me. The nightmares are a constant companion. But his gaze! It feels like it is still following me. Plotting out ways until he kills me or I kill myself. I haven't made any new friends. Who knows how many deaths will I be responsible for then?! I have given up on every emotion I felt when I was with Adam. As unhealthy as it may be, these scars are the only proof that I am alive.

Otherwise, I am dead inside out.