Whispers that Scream

Chapter Twenty-Three

Jane

Adam disengaged completely from Jane's attempts to talk some sense into him on the long drive home. She eventually gave him his space, and they lapsed into silence for most of the drive. They pulled up to their homes, and Adam slowly put the truck in park. Jane waited for him to say something, hoping he wouldn't leave the night on this sour note.

"Don't worry about me, Jane. I fall down all the time, but I'll never give up. Just give me some time to get back up," he whispered.

Jane nodded. "I'll give you some time to get back up, but not too much time," she threatened. With that, they disembarked from the truck, going their separate ways into their own homes. It completed a night that had started so promising but had ended in failure.

Jane had just showered and changed into her pajamas when she found herself reviewing the night. Such an amazing night with Adam and her friends, and Roger had still ruined it. She looked at her bedroom mirror and saw someone she was starting to recognize again. Her body had filled out a bit, and she didn't look as haggard as she once had. The bags under her eyes were not nearly as noticeable as they had been either. She had done amazing so far and had begun to get her life back. She had tried her best, and it wasn't working.

Enough was enough. She had come to the hardest decision some people would ever face, and she wouldn't balk. She needed help. She headed to the living room and went straight to her laptop. She researched domestic abuse and PTSD psychologists who may be able to give her the tools to help herself. Luckily, in this day in age, she could schedule her appointments online even in the middle of the night. She found one who had an available time on Monday and quickly took the slot.

She spent all of Sunday on her porch, trying to nonchalantly spy on Adam's house and hoping to catch any sign of him but didn't see him once. By the afternoon, she couldn't take it anymore and texted him.

Hey, just checking in to see how you're doing.

She sat back on her porch swing and impatiently waited for him to respond. It wasn't long before he texted back.

Hi, thanks for checking up on me. I'm doing alright. Just need a few days to get back on the horse.

How well could he be doing if he needed multiple days alone to recover? She'd trust him on this for now as long as he kept responding to her texts. If not, she'd figure out a way to get in touch with his brother.

Monday morning came around, and she was surprised to find that she wasn't nervous to go to the psychologist. She was ready for this. Ready to get whatever help she could. She had to drive to Jupiter to find the closest psychologist who treated her issues. She sat in the waiting room eager to get on with this. She needed to get better so she wouldn't have any more surprises like she did at dinner Saturday night.

She surveyed the room and saw only one other woman in the waiting room. The woman was middle-aged with a very average figure, average face, and average dark brown hair. She was reading a magazine and humming contently. Jane wondered what this woman's story was. What was hiding behind the content humming that required her to come to seek professional help? How many people had she walked by in the grocery store or restaurant who were secretly in pain like her? How many needed help but no one could hear them desperately crying out?

The receptionist broke her out of her line of thinking. "Jane? Dr. Combs will see you now."

Time to be cured. She stood up and headed to the psychologist's office.

An hour later she was walking out of the office quite disappointed. Apparently, she wasn't going to be cured after one visit, if at all. Dr. Combs had listened to Jane's story and symptoms before laying out a treatment plan. She first wanted to start on Jane's lifestyle. She needed to eat healthy, get enough sleep, and find time to relax. The nightmares were one of the first places Dr. Combs wanted to start treating.