Angelo Santino is a heartless man who could never imagine finding a life beyond his dangerous lifestyle. He had already given up on finding love a long time ago as no woman could ever keep up with his ruthless personality and demanding role in the m...
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JULIETTA
In the night the dream comes back, well that's if it can even be called a dream or is it just the subconscious mind reliving the worst but very real moment of my life every time I decide to rest my eyes.
A broken window. Bloody walls. My bare feet hit against the wooden floor with each step I take. I am running down an endless flight of stairs. But these aren't just any screams. Although I can't see anyone but the never ending flights of stairs, I know these screams all too well. And just as I feel I am getting closer to helping, I am right back at the beginning staring at the broken window. But now, the window has a black figure with the most piercing eyes. It open its mouth and then-
"So how does this make you feel?"
There we go again. With the most generic question a therapist can ask. I mean, did she even try to listen to what I was saying?
This is my sixth session with Miss Brown and all she does is ask the same question over and over again.
"Uh, I don't know? Confused?" I responded pretending I hadn't given her the same answer the last time I met her.
"Have you been taking your medication?" She asks as she types on her computer.
Again, another generic question.
"Yes." I quietly responds.
In reality, no. My medication for anxiety and PTSD has been sitting on my bedside table for the past month - unopened and untouched. Me and medication, yeah they don't go well together.
Here's my opinion: I want to be able to feel my body, not numb it.
'I have it all under control.' I thought, trying to convince myself even more.
Why would I trust some chemicals to fix me when the therapist I have been seeing for the past month doesn't even seem like she wants to help.
The therapist looks up at me as if she's trying to look for a reaction. Her eyes shift to the clock on the wall behind me.
"Great. Keep taking them and if you need a new prescription let me know and I will speak to Dr Reaves." she stated in a warm tone.
"Thank you, Miss."
"Please. Call me Jennifer." she responds with a smile as she looks down at her watch.
"Well that's all for today, Juliette. I will see you, same time next week. And remember, your dreams can't hurt you."
I gave her a small smile before I left for the door. As excruciatingly boring it was to sit through these sessions, the therapist is actually a very lovely woman to speak to.
'It's better than staying alone at home with nobody to talk to. Then again, I guess these things are here for that reason.' I thought.
But now, I have to prepare for the day I have been dreading for the whole summer. The first day of senior year.
