The Fear Between Us

Chapter 21

Chapter 21: Look in the mirror.

"It's been four months." Josephine says looking at me hopelessly while the psychiatrist sat opposite me, "You've healed a lot by now, if you would just look you'd be able to see the progress—"

"No."

"Tara please this isn't the time to be stubborn—"

"I said no. This isn't about healing, Jo. I can't look at myself and then all I see is the person who got beat up I- I just can't."

At this point, the psychiatrist pulled Jo aside to speak with her. Whether they assumed I was deaf or a child didn't matter, they still stood barely two feet away from me speaking about my healing as if I were some mentally ill asylum patient. I was tired of feeling like this, feeling isolated from everyone else because my condition was just some inconvenience to everyone else's life. I never asked to be put in this position. I mean I found out the truth I went searching for but at what cost? Was all of this worth it? Does it satisfy me now that I've lost my mind?

Suddenly they both stopped speaking and a switch in my brain had been flipped, my eyes had opened as my senses were filled with that same rusted old voice that smoothed over a frozen lake in December. All he said was one sentence but it was enough to regain my consciousness, how did I not recognize it back then?

"How is she?" is all that filled the room. Josephine's voice was the one to respond along with their footsteps leaving the room. I didn't even notice that my knuckles had gone white from clutching the armrests too hard. Suddenly the psychiatrist's voice had gone low as she spoke in a language only I would understand, "Tara, you don't have to say anything but speak to me now. Is that him?"

I was shaking. I couldn't distinguish if it was out of anger for my stupidity in that situation or out of fear for not realizing that he had been right underneath our noses this entire time. My voice had gone hoarse as I couldn't bare to look him in the eye and Jo was speaking to him as if she admired him, "That's him." I said finally now looking up to see him, his hair now showing more signs of grey and his eyes looking more tired. I couldn't help it, all I could think of was good. I hope that he looks like this because his tainted consciousness leaves him awake at night to think about what he did to his sergeant. I can only pray that Mikhail looks worse if not dead. Seeing Josephine speak to him like nothing is wrong builds up this bubbling-over feeling sitting in the pit of my stomach, the psychiatrist holds my hands as she whispers, "Remember who the enemy is."