Allure...to powerfully attract or charm; tempt.
It was the physical attraction that they believed kept them coming back, but in reality, it was more than that. Two broken souls, unaware to the fact the fix was one another.
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L̶O̶S̶ A̶N̶G̶E̶L̶E̶S̶, C̶A̶L̶I̶F̶O̶R̶N̶I̶A̶
A̸M̸E̸R̸I̸E̸
My eyes stayed glued towards the ground, watching every click of the blood red bottom heals that ensembled a song along the new marble floors on the second floor of the 10 story building. A stacked Manila folder sat under my arm, containing the designated files of the woman who occupied my office.
I knocked twice out of respect, waiting until I heard the faint 'come in' to push the doorknob down. I entered into the office with the same small smile I always wore to greet her, one that she returned although it clearly didn't match the way she really felt inside.
"Good morning Cheyanna" I spoke while placing the folders I had along my large mahogany desk. She shifted her body to face mine better, her face looking drained and exhausted.
In complete honesty, she didn't look well at all, but that was the process of getting clean. In the span of a year, my main focus has been getting my mind off of reality, which in turn translated into being hired at the #1 therapy company in California.
"Good morning" She spoke softly, her eyes boring into mine under the dark shades she wore. Although she didn't look the best in the slightest, the improvement from the first we meet compared to now was obvious. My only rule for service, when dealing with drug addicts specifically, was always getting clean. Which is what she was in the process of doing.
"Alright Chey-."
"You know you can call me Chi Chi...not many call me Cheyanna." She cut in, her focus following me as I sat down.
"Are you sure, because-."
"I'm positive, the name Cheyanna reminds me of a person who I don't really have the best memories with." Raising an eyebrow, I peeled open the folders to pull out where we left off on the last time. That alongside my journal I took notes in, because she had more of a story than some I worked with in the past.
"Is it about the same man you brought up at the end of the last session?" She sat still for a minute until hesitantly nodding her head. "And do you still not want to disclose the name of the man, I know you said you were going to think on it." Nodding again, she lowered her focus down towards her hands that fumbled with one another.
"I- I don't want to disclose his name, I don't really want to hear it while we're here." She spoke just above a whisper, and her mood switch was very noticeable even to a naked eye.
"That's completely fine, his name doesn't have to be said. But we started off last time and you told me just a little bit, about how you all were never in a real relationship, but he ended up saving you out of prostitution. Only to end up hurting you a lot worse, mentally, and being the reason for pushing you to where you are now. Is there a specific incident, or reason as to why you're choosing right now to get help in regards to him?" Taking a deep breath, she seemed scared almost to vocalize the thoughts in her head. Something that seemed to be common despite the constant reminder that this was a safe space.
