Save me •Chaelisa

brands

Pov Lalisa Manoban

I walked into my office organizing some papers on the table, looked at my armchair and the patient's armchair, which were far away from each other, then looked at the floor, then at the armchair again.

I did have some ideas that might help with our appointment. I moved the armchairs away, leaving them in the corner of the room, arranged the carpet in the middle and leaned against my desk, looking at the clock, unsure if Rose would show up. She hadn't confirmed anything to me, but she knew the time and place I was waiting for her.

A few more minutes had passed and as I watched the clock I gave up hope of her showing up.

I started to reorganize the room when I heard the door stop at the same moment, Rose entered shyly, very different from the first time we were there, she was wearing a long dress with a sweatshirt over it in an attempt to hide all her cuts, little did she know that I was planning to see everyone.

I smiled gently at her, who was still standing by the door.

- You can come in and close the door. - I said as I dragged the armchair back.

She obeyed but still stood there looking around without understanding anything I was doing, even I wasn't sure, but she was good at improvising.

- Where are we going to sit? - she spoke for the first time, her voice was very different, would you say calm?

I was hoping to continue, it would be easier that way.

- On the floor. - I said, pointing to the carpet.

She looked at me like I was crazy before she spoke.

- Are you all right? - she asked, making me laugh.

- I think you'll feel more comfortable.

- It's okay, you're the piscologist after all.

Rose sat down with her legs crossed, taking care to cover what she could of her body. I sat down facing her, much closer than last time, and I heard her breathing change.

- Is everything all right? - I asked worriedly.

- Never has a piscologist done... well, that. - he said, pointing to the floor.

- I promised it would be different, I want you to feel that you can trust me.

- I have serious problems with trust.

- I imagine you do, but I have plenty of time.

- I'm the one who doesn't.

- Thinking of suicide?

- How can I not? My brain is used to it. - she put a lock of her hair back and straightened her body again.

- I'm going to ask you a question, but it's okay if you don't feel comfortable answering. - she nodded. - Does self-mutilation relieve you in any way?

- It's like a drug for an addict, I feel like it and the next thing I know it's already happened.

- And after it happens, what do you feel?

- I don't really know. - He moved his body again, showing nervousness. - At the moment, I do feel relief.

- Do you feel pain when you do it?

- Sometimes I do, but only if it's a lot in the same place on my body.

- Where do you do it most? - she didn't answer, just stared at her legs, then looked up and there was my answer. - Are you comfortable with your own body?

- No, I wouldn't be in it.

- Do you know the difference between body and mind? - she looked at me confused. - To be more specific, would you leave your body or your mind?

- Aren't the two connected?

- They are, but there's a difference in physical and emotional pain.

- Maybe it's my mind, but I don't just feel pain in my thoughts, my chest hurts as if someone were stepping on it.

- What about the medicines? What do you feel when you start them?

- That I'll have the chance to try them all again.

- Haven't you ever thought about the improvement they can bring? - she laughed humorlessly.

- They don't make me better, they make me sleepy. What's the point of taking medication just to keep me "alive", alive sleeping all day with no energy for anything.

- I get it. - I needed to remember all those answers. - Are your cuts deep?

- I don't know. - her tone of voice had dropped again.

-Can I see?

- Do you have a fetish? - she replied with a wry smile, there was that terrible mood her family had told me about.

- I need to know if they're superficial or not. - I ignored her words and insisted again, not knowing her answer.

That took five minutes in complete silence, with her staring at my eyes and then at the floor.

She stood up slowly and I was about to do the same, but she gave me a disapproving look.

- You won't be able to see if you stand. - I sat down again.

How strange that session was? I admitted that I didn't have that kind of contact in mind, me on the floor watching a patient slowly lift up her long dress.

It didn't take long for the marks to appear.

- You don't have to go any higher. - I said, watching as she practically lifted the entire skirt of her dress.

I looked at the cuts, and damn... they were deep, some so deep that in a normal case they would need stitches, her entire leg and pale thighs covered in cuts and purple spots.

Her body was what I imagined it to be underneath the clothes, she wasn't that thin, Rose let the dress fall again, taking off the sweatshirt she was wearing and sitting down facing me.

The dress had straps and the cuts went all the way down to her collarbone, where she was taking it easy. I noticed the band around her wrist, hiding the worst cuts since they had almost taken her life.

There were marks on her arms too, but those were much more superficial, the deep cuts were on her legs, which could unfortunately be a sign of sexual abuse.

- You can get dressed. - I said, watching as she picked up her sweatshirt and put it back on. - How long have you been doing this?

- I don't know, since I was 8 or 9. - she seemed to handle it very naturally, which wasn't supposed to happen.

- Why are the deep cuts specifically on the legs?

- It's easier to hide. - Perhaps the reason was hidden in her subconscious.

- Our appointment is over, but I wanted to ask you something, would you write?

- No.

- Would it be a problem to start writing about your crises?

- I've never done that.

- Would you mind trying?

- I can't even promise that I'll be back for the next session.

- If I do, I'll be here waiting at the same time, so think about writing it down. - I took a piece of paper out of my pocket and handed it to Rose, who stared at the phone number. - It's mine, I'm available. - she put it in her sweatshirt pocket.

Rose got up and I did the same, she left without saying a word, I stayed to make the notes I needed for the next session, one thing was certain, we had made progress.