Somnia | $crim

13. Hypnos

July 19th, 2015

After starting to work again, that's when the comments started. Madi said I'm rude now, Carmen said I'm "stressy", and you said I have PTSD. After a few too many arguments with Nico, I was convinced to go to therapy.

"So," the therapist said once I settled in the chair. She pushed her glasses up the bridge of her nose. "What made you decide to come here today?"

God, where do I even start? Do I start with my mom never supporting my aspirations? What about moving to New York City, by myself, to chase those dreams only to continue to be torn down? How about my boyfriend lying to me for months about his drug use? Or my ex who would cry if I even looked at another man? Or my mom being in prison? Or my dead dad? Oh, I know! Let's start with being held at gunpoint at a job I hate that I only took because my mom is in prison and none of their dads stepped up and I picked a pathetic career goal that I can't do anything worthwhile with it right now anyway.

"That sounds like a very difficult thing to experience," she replied.

I didn't find much comfort in therapy. It just wasn't like me to sit in front of a stranger and tell them my deepest, darkest thoughts for an only just for them to rephrase it back to me. After my first therapy session, it was almost dinner time. But as soon as I walked into the house, I knew something was wrong.

"Have you seen Sadie?" I asked everyone in the house. No one had seen her since this morning.

Okay, stay calm...she's probably at a friend's house and it slipped my mind. I can't solve this if I'm freaking out.

Step one: call all her friend's parents

Step two: check the school activity calendar

Step three: call Carmen

Step four:

By the time I finished calling all their parents, you, with the help of Aris, had arrived to help look for her. Nico was canvasing the walk home from school. Madi was calling her friends to make sure they hadn't seen her, which they hadn't since this afternoon.

"You need to call the police," Nico added. "She could be anywhere."

"She's four feet eight inches and eighty-two pounds. She has black hair, up in a ponytail, and brown eyes. She's wearing a green and white striped shirt with pink shorts and yellow sneakers. Her backpack is lavender and has her name on it," I described to the officers. The police basically told me they couldn't do much tonight, beyond take the report and be on the lookout, because no one saw if she was kidnapped. Perfect!

One officer gave me the idea to look on the computer, where I quickly found an order for a bus ticket from New Orleans's Greyhound station to Detroit, Michigan. Her bus hadn't left yet, thank God.

"I'll drive," you offered. We peeled out of my driveway and on our way to the station, where Sadie stuck out like a sore thumb. She spotted us almost immediately but didn't try to run.

"I miss mommy," she cried. "I just wanted to see her."

"Oh, Peanut," I sighed. "I miss her too. But you can't run off that; it's dangerous."

"You got her for longer," she said, still refusing to move from her seat. "I'll be twenty-seven when she's released. I just want to see her in person."

You picked her up so we could get out of the station. I got into the backseat with her while she leaned into me and sobbed on my arm. I promised her we'd make time to drive up to Michigan to visit, but I'm not sure how I could manage.

"I know you don't like me doing this," you said once we got home, and Sadie was in bed. I groaned at the anticipation. "But can I loan you some cash so you can visit your mom?"

You stressed "loan" because you knew I didn't like when you offered to pay for things. Sure, you make a lot from your music and I scrape change from the couches to buy groceries sometimes, but I still didn't want you to think I was using you. But, this was one thing I could accept for now.