The Runaway Sister

thirty-five | not safe

Willow looks different. She carries herself in a different manner. Her shoulders are stiff with tension and her smile is clearly forced. 

The house is the same. The floors still creak when I walk or press my foot against a particular one. The sofa is still plaid with pillows. The table still has a spread of sweets. 

Yet, something is different. I can feel the air around me. I can sense the ominous, dreadful atmosphere that has been going on in this previously warm household. 

Willow clears her throat, and pours tea into the two floral porcelain cups, one for each of us. She puts a sugar in hers and only milk in mine, like Mum taught me to have it. 

Thinking of Mum, I absentmindedly finger her locket that rests against my neck. I find myself reaching for it more, over Warren's necklace. I need her reassuring presence near me. 

"Have some tea, Evelyn. It'll help ease your mind." 

I take the teacup from her hands. "Are you feeling well? Has something happened?" I ask, seeing as she still looks shaken. 

Willow pastes on an even brighter smile. "Of course not, dear. Nothing has happened. Now, let's talk about your feelings. Why don't you share your thoughts with me?" 

I frown. "You don't look well. Why not tell me what's the matter? I'm a good listener. So, fire away and tell me what's up." 

Willow laughs. "I'm your therapist, Evelyn, you're not mine. Now, if you don't want to describe your emotions, why don't you draw them? Or write them?" 

She holds out a little leather-bound book, and I take it from her grasp. It's a little smaller than the notebook she uses to write down everything I tell her. 

I trace the lines on the book. "Sometimes, I feel like my chest is closing up on me and I can't breathe. I think that I'm going to pass out." 

Willow nods. "What brings on these passionate feelings?" 

I sigh. "It's either during the night, and I have a warped version of a memory at the base I was at, or it's during the day and something I see triggers a reaction." 

My blurry vision. My constricting heart. My inability to even control my own body, being so lost and delusional in my own mind. 

The experience is suffocating. It leaves me bedridden for hours on end, worried that if I move I'll be subject to more random triggers and more attacks. 

"Could you give me an example?" 

"It really depends. Once, I saw Luke eating a bowl of melted ice cream that looked like the food I was given there, and I just began to freak out." 

She nods in an understanding way. "When you feel like that, does the world begin to spin around you? Do you feel nauseous or anxious? Or do you just feel numb?" 

"I feel... disoriented." 

"Why don't we try some grounding techniques?" Willow asks lightly. I nod. "One way is to focus solely on your breathing and nothing else." 

Willow sits up straighter, and I copy her movements. She begins to count softly, slowly. "Take a big deep breath until five, and then release." 

She counts. I breathe in. 1... 2... 3... 4... 5... "And now release."

A calm sensation erupts in my chest. I let out a soft, relaxed hum, and open my eyes which I didn't even realize that I had closed. 

Willow smiles. "Does that help?" 

I return the expression. "Very much, actually." 

Suddenly, Willow's phone lights up with a message. She glances down at the face-up device, and almost instantly her face is drained of its rosy color.