☆❯【Like or Like Like Me? | Salvis Story】❮☆

☆--❮Chapter 2❯--☆

♡☾Song - Apple Pie - The Scary Jokes☽♡

!--❯The following chapter includes:❮--!
-Homophobic Language

♡☾-----------------------------------☽♡

"I understand how you feel, its a delicate situation, but you must understand that none of it your fault. You were just a child Sal." Mrs.Bozzelli said, looking up at me, her clipboard sitting in her lap. I let out a sigh, "I know, but I should have-" I was about to begin before she cut me off.

"I'm going to stop you right there, THATS your problem, Sal. You were 8 years old! No 8 year old thinks like that." She said. I stared at my therapist, stuck on how to respond.

Mrs.Bozzelli stood up. "Well, times up for today Sal. We'll pick up from here next week." I looked up at the tall woman. "Wait, I have something else to say," I said. "I'm sorry Sal, it'll have to wait. However, write it down so you can bring is up next time." She said in a steady tone. 

I sighed and grabbed my backpack and left the room walking down the hallway. Before I left the receptionist at the desk chimed in, "Have a nice day Sally! Its always a pleasure having you!" I turned around to face her, "Thanks, you too!"

I thought about what my therapist had said as I walked home. She always told me that my mothers death wasn't my fault, that at the time I didn't know any better. But no matter how many times I'm told, by her, my friends, dad, or even my old therapist in Jersey, I always feel so, so guilty. 

That day rings in my head every other month or so. The frequent gunshots, my moms screams, the blood covering my face, it's all too much to handle sometimes. It was all so fuzzy yet so graphicly clear. I've lost count with how many times I've woken up at 2 in the morning in a cold sweat or the amount of panic attacks I've had because of my subconscious torturing me with those horrific memories.

I walked into Addison Apartments and followed my usual routine. I grabbed whatever mail was sitting in our mailbox, said hi to a few of the residents that were in the hall before stopping by Mrs.Rosenberg's place. I always like to check on her, making sure she's alright. She's a very lonely old lady, so I like to give her some company sometimes. I always enjoy our conversations.

I knocked lightly on her door, hearing a quiet, "Come in!" from the other side. I opened the door into the quaint little apartment to see her sitting on her rocking chair like always. "Hello Sally! What's a young girl like yourself doing here visiting an old lady like me? Shouldn't you be playing with your friends?" She said. 

"I like to check on you and make sure you're okay. I know it can get lonely here by yourself all the time." I said, sitting down on the carpet in front of her chair. "Thank you dear, I do enjoy your company. It's always nice to have someone to listen to me and share my stories with."

We conversed for a while, I told her about my day and she told me a few stories of hers. During our talks she always did most of the talking. She, along with most old people I've met, are typically chatterboxes, but I never mind. When it comes to older people, I'm a much better listener than a conversationalist.

 After a while, I bid her goodbye and headed up to my apartment. I fished my keys out of my pocket and opened the door, stepping into my apartment. Gizmo came bounding up to me trilling like he usually does. He stood on his hind legs, his claws digging into my knees. "Ouch! Hi buddy!" I said, picking up the orange tabby.

I struggled a little, he was pretty big. He's not fat or anything, he's a maine coon breed of sorts so he's naturally large. "Looks like someone needs to have his claws cut." I said, scratching his head. He stared at me and I chuckled a bit.