E N C H A N T E D

to kill a part of me

"So why do you think that you wanted Sirius to hurt you while you were stuck in that space?"

Remus sat across the room from his therapist in a plush yellow arm chair. She had a notebook resting on her lap and she flicked the edge of it with her pen.

The hardest part of this whole therapy thing was being honest with her. And now Remus couldn't answer her question because he'd told her a half truth.

"Uh.. it wasn't just that I wanted him to hurt me. I wanted him to hurt me during sex." Remus flushed as he looked up at her.

"Hmm," she tapped the center of her notepad. "Are you familiar with the BDSM community."

Remus shook his head, no.

"What you're telling me isn't that uncommon. Masochists are folks who find sexual gratification through their own pain or humiliation."

"It was only then, though."

She thought some more.

"Not before that and not since. I want... like maybe I wanted it because I thought it would snap me back to reality."

She nodded. "I see."

"I just craved it. For some reason I thought it would help, but looking back and journaling like we've talked about, I'm realizing that it would have only made it worse. I think it would have sent me farther down in my dissociated mind."

She studied him. "What other things were you fixating on in that time."

He shrugged. "The one that sticks out because it makes so little sense is that I wanted to be hit by a bus but then like keep living. I wanted to die but only to kill a part of me."

"The part you called a parasite?" She was referring to something Remus had said a couple of weeks ago. "That would be your depression?"

Remus thought for a while. "I used to think so, but now I'm not sure. I think maybe, in that moment when depression had consumed me that far, the piece I wanted to kill was the part of me that wasn't depressed."

"Say more about that."

He shrugged again. "I dunno... I think about the thing with Sirius... if I'd have asked him for that and he'd agreed, when or if or whatever I got back out of that depression, that action would have fundamentally changed us. Like my depression could have sabotaged us. Or it would have become a vice to continue that depression. I'd abuse it because it hurt and if it hurt it could distract me from that numbness."

They sat in silence for a moment. "You're very insightful, Remus. And that's usually a good thing. I just want you to make sure that you're not over analyzing. Trust yourself and your experience and you'll make sense of it in due time."

Remus smiled at her half heartedly. "Yeah, I guess."

"Well, should we schedule again?"

"Sure." Remus agreed even though he didn't think this was working. Maybe it was her or maybe it was therapy in general but he wasn't convinced that this was something he would do again.

It wasn't for lack of trying. This was his 12th appointment in as many weeks. He was on antidepressants now and he did feel an improvement, but therapy hung over him like a dark cloud. April began next week and maybe it was time to leave this behind him.

"Next week again?"

Remus nodded, but she could see him from where she now sat at her computer. "Actually, do you think you could recommend me a male therapist?"

"Oh, sure hon." If she was upset with his question she didn't show it. "There are a couple here at the collective. Let me grab you their cards." She shuffled things around her desk for a moment before producing three business cards. "You can make an appointment at the desk on the way out or give the number on these a call."