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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・❥・
BLAKE HOVERS OVER MY SHOULDERS, peering intently at the sketch I'm working on—a convenient excuse to pretend I'm too focused to pay attention to Mum's lecture about how important it is that I attend my session with Dr. Torres this afternoon, despite how we left things the other day.
"You're not going to your session this afternoon, are you?" My sister inches closer, and I can feel her breath on the nape of my neck.
"Yuck. Move over!" I exclaim, brushing myself off as if she's carrying a disease. "And no, I'm not." I answer, my voice dripping with defiance. "It's stupid, and I would rather die than show up there ever again." My grip on my pencil tightens, and I notice the way my knuckles turn white around it.
"Don't say that." Blake's lips fall into a straight line, her concern palpable.
"Say what?" I know she means she'd prefer if I don't bring up death in the same sentence as myself, but I act oblivious anyway.
She takes the pencil from my grasp and sets it down on the table. "What is your problem?" My voice rises unintentionally, and it's clear that I've taken her by surprise when she rolls the pencil back towards me.
"Look, I know it's been quite some time since the accident, but I still think you should try to be a little kinder to yourself. And when I say that, I mean," she takes a moment to adjust the collar on my shirt, "that I want you to not bring up that three-letter word. I nearly lost you, and hearing you say that kind of frightens me."
I look at her, seeing the genuine worry etched in her features. "Why does my accident affect you so much, Blake?" I ask, my voice softer now.
Blake sighs and sits down beside me. "It was hard to sleep at night, you know? Mostly because all I could hear were your loud cries when you had nightmares. It went on for months, and it didn't stop until Mum suggested you go to therapy. For a while, it worked. But then therapy started becoming more of a hassle than it was supposed to be a way to make you feel better, and that's why you'd rather not go."
Her words hit me like a ton of bricks. I never considered how my nightmares and my struggles affected her. "I didn't know it was that bad for you," I admit, feeling a pang of guilt.
Blake nods. "It was tough. Every night, I'd lie awake, listening to you scream and cry. I felt so helpless. I wanted to take your pain away, but I couldn't. And now, hearing you say you'd rather die than go to therapy—it scares me, Camden. I don't want to lose you."
I take a deep breath, absorbing her words. "I didn't realise how much you were going through because of me. I'm sorry, Blake."
She gives me a small, sad smile. "You don't have to apologise. I just want you to understand that therapy is supposed to help you. Maybe Dr. Torres isn't the right fit, but that doesn't mean you should give up on getting help."
I nod slowly, considering her words. "Maybe you're right. Maybe I should give it another try. But it's hard, Blake. It's really hard."
"I know it is," she says gently, placing a hand on my shoulder. "But you're not alone in this. We're all here for you. Mum, me—we want to help you get through this."
I look at her, feeling a glimmer of hope. "Okay. I'll go to the session this afternoon. But if it doesn't work out, can we look for someone else? Someone who might understand me better?"
Blake's face lights up with relief. "Of course. We'll find someone who's a better fit if that's what you need. Just promise me you won't give up on yourself."
"I promise," I say, feeling a weight lift off my shoulders. For the first time in a long time, I feel like there might be a way out of this darkness.
Blake pulls me into a hug, and for a moment, I let myself believe that things might actually get better. With my family's support, maybe I can find a way to heal.
As my sister stands to leave, I wrap my hand around her wrist in a quick motion. "Hey, if you're not busy, would you be able to keep me company?" Anxiety gnaws at me when I think about going alone and facing Dr. Torres by myself. "Please."
I feel like a beggar, but then Blake wraps her arms around me again, and I feel relief wash over me. "Of course," she says softly. "If he makes you uncomfortable, we can make a run for it. But no running into the street. I mean it, Camden. Deal?"
"Deal," I reply, a small smile tugging at my lips.
Despite our age gap, it doesn't seem that noticeable. Blake may be younger, but sometimes, like right now, I feel as if she's the older sister I never had. I can always count on her.
She sits back down beside me, her presence a comforting anchor. "We've got some time before we need to leave. Want to talk about anything else?"
I take a moment to really think, but nothing seems to come to mind aside from the accident. "I know it's not the most ideal conversation but..." I scratch the itch by the crook of my neck. "I still don't remember everything that happened that night. I know that the whole dissociative amnesia thing is supposed to be about being patient and, ahh," I motion my hands in mock surprise, "the memories come back to me just like that. But I really haven't remembered anything at all. Everything I know about that night is broken fragments, and Mum and Dad won't tell me."
Blake nods, and for a moment, I see the contemplation in her eyes. "It's a lot to take in, Camden. You need to know that if I tell you, it can be—"
"Triggering," I finish for her. "Yeah, I know. So let me be triggered. Tell me. What happened that night?"
