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a/n: read with caution, this chapter has mentions of self-harm, ED, panic attacks, self-deprecating comments, and other negative thoughts and emotions.

August 2006

Therapy.

At the ripe age of 16, everyone around Amelia had known she desperately needed therapy. It wasn't normal for a kid her age to be thinking the way she was or holding back so much to herself.

She was but a child and a child she needed to be and embrace. Her first session revealed a lot about what the child was going through without so much as revealing too much about herself.

"I have no time to be a child for my childhood has ended. I do not even remember most of it."

~

"So you don't remember your mother?" Her therapist, a sophisticated young woman named Claire Johnson, asked her carefully during one of their sessions for the month.

"Not much really. I know she was warm and kind and an amazing mother."

"From your perspective or what you've been told and what you've seen?"

"I-" Stuck, Amelia looked at the woman. This was something she had avoided in the few sessions she's had.

"There's a difference between what you know and what you've been told and often your brain finds it hard to separate the two views. You have been through a lot Amelia, I am not going to diminish that however, you need to find yourself and not just what people say you are."

"I know who I am." Amelia stood her ground

"Do you? I mean you're a princess, the daughter of a loved public figure but what else? Next time I come over you tell me these things.

And so Amelia found herself deep in thought. Who was she?

~

"Do you think you'll ever commit?"

"I am not sure, I think commitment comes with a lot of ups and downs. I fear I would never become a mother because of my lack of commitment."

"And why not?"

"I have seen first had what love does to people and how blind it can be and I want nothing to do with it. I despise it."

"Did you do what I asked of you?"

"I started journaling."

"That's good, what have you learnt about yourself?"

"I think a lot about what others think of me and I have a lot of fear in me."

"Do you know where this fear stems from?"

"Most likely from the loneliness I endured back at my father's house. I am scared of being alone and I want to fix that."

"Good. That's a step in the right direction. Can you explain what happened in the house?"

Amelia paused at Claire's words.

Her heart started to beat erratically as memories gushed into her mind, memories that she had pushed far back from the moment she stepped out of the house.

She felt it creeping up before she could even name it—an unsettling tightness in her chest as if invisible hands were slowly squeezing the air from her lungs. Her breathing became shallow, and rapid, each gasp feeling insufficient. Her heart, once rhythmic, now pounded erratically in her chest, a wild drumming that drowned out all other sounds. She tried to focus, tried to remind herself she was safe, but her vision was starting to blur at the edges, narrowing, darkening.

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