Nora has been tormented by haunting nightmares for months, yet amidst the darkness, she begins to encounter a captivating girl whose presence mesmerises her. The girl's beauty is so striking that Nora finds herself longing to see her again in her dr...
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"HOW DO YOU FEEL TODAY, JULIA?" Dr. Torres asks me. Unlike most of our sessions, he's not wearing his white coat. Instead, he's clad in black business-style pants and a maroon sweater over his white button-down shirt. It isn't that big of a deal, at least it shouldn't be, but removing that layer, that white coat, makes Dr. Torres seem more human and less, 'I'm here to fix all your problems by talking to me'.
I want to correct him, so I suck in a breath and do just that. "It's Camden. Julia... it's me but... it's also not me," I try to explain. "I'd like to be Camden here if that's okay with you?"
It shouldn't have to be a question, nor should it be a thing I have to ask of people. Camden is my name, and I'd appreciate it if people used it.
"Right. Camden," Dr. Torres quickly adjusts in his seat and clasps his hands over his desk. "Well, following on from last week I can see, or well I remember," he chuckles lightly as he skims over my file. "We talked about how you're currently doing, what interests you, things like that."
I nod. It's all I can really do in this situation as he rehashes everything like I've got all the time in the world, which clearly, I don't.
"Today, I want to focus more on something that will really delve into what happened that night."
I expected this, of course, but part of me was hoping we'd stray away from this and more on to boring topics like what I got up to last week or if school is a big enough distraction for me.
"I want to ask you, Camden," he smiles, almost proudly now that I've corrected him, which honestly makes me want to barf, "how do you feel when you see your scar? How does it feel when you touch it? Let's delve a little bit more into this part of your accident."
Now I really want to vomit.
"It's a scar," I say. "It's rough and..." I see that he's not entirely happy with how I've started, but he can either take it or leave it. "When I see it, it comes as a reminder. When I touch it, well, I kind of get taken back to that night. It comes in vivid flashes and it's almost like I'm there again, reliving it."
He smiles and I know that it's probably a good thing but I don't feel good at all.
As he continues to probe, his questions becoming more invasive, I feel my chest tighten. The room starts to feel smaller, the walls inching closer. The anxiety I've been trying to keep at bay all session begins to surge, overwhelming my senses.
"Can you tell me more about the flashes, Camden? What exactly do you see?" he presses, his voice calm but insistent.
"I... I see the lights, the red and blue flashing lights. The sirens blaring, the chaos, the pain," I stammer, my fingers gripping the armrests of the chair so tightly that my knuckles turn white. "I can hear the voices, the panic. It's like I'm back there, helpless, all over again."
