Gone Girl 3

Chapter 2

When I open my eyes, I remember everything.

I was sedated as I had another panic attack and tried to hurt myself by leaving the bed.

My body is filled with scratches and wounds but it doesn't hurt at all. Maybe it's just because of the sedation.

I am in the psychiatric unit and I'll only be out when I will stop being a danger to myself but it's unlikely that I'll be back on campus. Luckily it's spring break.

My mom said she was taking me out of the semester, I told her I'd be okay but she didn't want to keep me on campus.

But we will decide only once I'm out of here and she sees if I can be on my own. Nicole can help but she can only do so much, she said.

Once I recover a bit and can move, I'll have to attend therapy sessions. They are obligated to do so at least for the time I stay in the hospital, then once I'm out it will be completely my decision.

It's barely the day after my accident and I haven't talked to them since last night.

I have so much to say, I need to ask my mom about Cyprian but I don't know if I'm ready for the truth.

Nicole still doesn't know about Cyprian and I have no idea if he is still in Georgia and is dating her. This won't end well.

~

They dosed me with a lot of medicine and my mind is clearer, I don't get nightmares anymore but I feel so numb.

I knock on my new therapist's door and a female voice answers quickly.

"Come," she replies politely.

I didn't even know she is a woman, nobody told me anything but I guess it's better.

"Welcome, Veronica," she says with a big smile.

She knows my name too.

Perhaps this will go better than the other forced therapist sessions I had two years ago.

"Good morning," I respond shyly. She makes me nervous. We are still in a hospital and I just want to be home but my brain is acting up.

Sometimes I can even smile, insane. You'd think someone with so much trauma would find nothing to smile about but to be honest... what I'm smiling about isn't very nice. I'm fueled by depression and disgust.

She invites me to sit.

"How rude I am." She gives me her hand to shake. "I'm Josephine Smith, nice to meet you." I shake her hand awkwardly.

Her hair is short, straight and brown. She looks quite old and she has simple brown eyes but a really nice almond shape. She looks sweet. She is probably a mother.

She sits down and I wait awkwardly for her to write something in her notebook.

"What did you write?" I ask nonchalantly. Just curiosity.

She shows me the notebook and I feel more comfortable. "Just your name and date."

She smiles as she closes the notebook.

"Today we are only going to get to know each other."

"So no notes on my trauma and deranged personality?" I joke and she chuckles.

"No worries. We have plenty of time for that for later sessions."

I smile, feeling more at ease. She really knows how to make people comfortable.

Now I wonder... was I so rude to my other therapist in rehab because I didn't want help or because they just weren't the right therapist for me?

Maybe both.