Lost Angel

Prologue

Sometimes the dark catches up with you. An Abyss that sucks up every last bit of light right out of your being. Letting the despair in takes the joy and pleasure away from every little thing. It never enables you to escape, nor does it let you hope. Every thought is carefully crafted to dig holes in the psyche, creating panic and discomposure. One wrong move and the evil pit inside drags you elsewhere, leaving you to claw your way back from the shadows.

Emptiness is what my existence consists of. Longing---for the day when the sunshine feels good on my skin again. To feel loved by someone and not used for any selfish needs. More often I long for some sort of happiness to erupt from every pore on my body, only to be struck by the feelings of numbness. I was stuck in this neverending continuation of this unfortunate life I was brought into.

"Cress,... Cress, are you here?" Jenny's calm voice lures me back in, as she's tapping her foot gently against the carpeted floor. So, then I compose myself the best I can. Fiddling with my knee-high boots to keep my frenzied hands from becoming a problem.

"Hmm... Y-yeah." I say, peeking at her and watching her recross her legs, all the while taking slow shallow breaths. I don't want her to know how bothered I am by my thoughts.

"I know this is a hard topic for you, but I'd like you to try to stay grounded. Alright?" She sighs and studies me more closely with adept precision that would suggest she's pinning a butterfly to a scratchy board. Then that of a therapist who is evaluating a patient.

"I-I'll try. But what were we talking about?" I ask stuttering about my words. Anything that happened before I dissociated became muddled phrases and incoherent memories at a distance. And now we have to backtrack, making Jenny sigh, as I tighten the straps going down my boots.

Sometimes asking her to go over things again makes me want to hide in my closet wrapped up in a blanket cocoon at home. And it often makes me feel like I'm bugging her and getting on her nerves. So sometimes I don't ask unless I need to.

"We were in the middle of talking about your day. But first I want to know where you went when you dissociated," She states in a reserved tone. Her eyes watch my facial features for any sudden changes in my emotions.

Usually, I reply with a vague depiction considering I'm not sure how to exactly put into words where I withdraw to. It's more like a disappearing act; then I reappear again, often leaving me disoriented. Jenny instantly recognizes it instantaneously, and always redirects me back into the conversation that ended abruptly with interrupted interferences in my mind.

"I c-can't explain it. I was h-here then I wasn't. And you were s-staring." I say shyly, stuttering because staring always makes me feel self-conscious. And extra aware of my surroundings, how I'm composed, and just how big I feel in a space that's supposed to be safe.

Then I focus on my hands and rub my palms into my black skinny jeans wiping off the cold sweat. And once I'm done, I stick my fingertips into the top of my boots digging them in deeper. Almost certainly causing marks, and little sparks of pain to shoot through my legs. Just enough to remind me that I'm capable of sitting still, and not jumping out of my chair like some cat had water thrown on it.

I'm not quite ready to enter a conversation yet. However, I decided just to come outwardly with it, so it's over with. And I can go home before an angry phone call starts buzzing my prepaid flip phone.

"I d-didn't l-like h-him c-calling m-me t-that. Ever." I say bringing my legs up to my chest, snuggling my face in between my knees. The racing images barreling through my skull send my breaths out in shallow huffs. I slowly bring my face up to continue.

"Who don't you like calling you what?" Jenny asks, clearly wanting me to explain. I study her before I continue, catching a glimpse of something in her eyes before I shift my head down. Something unsettling, but I continue the less.

"My f-fa-father, calling me beautiful. H-he always l-looks at m-me like some c-creep. He's s-so c-con-fu-fusing. It's l-like a s-switch, and flip he yells, hits, a-and..." I stop there; anymore and I'll break into pieces like a porcelain doll's face hitting the hard wooden floor.

"Then mom's never home. A-and there's nowhere to go. I can't get a-away." I say crumbling, finally getting it all out. Unsure of my fate now that I subtly hinted to some of the things happening in my life.

Jenny's face suggested she was upset. Her features were dark, causing me to squeeze my knees tighter. At that moment, I thought she would raise her voice at me and say that I was making it up, that my dad wouldn't do that to his own flesh. But it never came; she sat there and I noticed that look again. The look that means she's concerned.

"I'm so sorry Cress. If I'd known, I would've done something to stop it. But it's not your fault. Whatever happens, you did nothing wrong." Jenny says, voice not quite matching her sincere words as she grabs her phone and starts dialing a number. I'm confused and scared out of my mind. What does she mean by "whatever happens?" What is she doing?!!