The Past Within - Mialotte - TNN

The year from hell

TW multiple mentions of sexual assault, death and suicide

Based on a true story

Charlotte sat in the therapist's office, the ticking of the clock in the background somehow amplifying the quietness between her and Dr. Peterson. She had been coming here for months now, slowly peeling back the layers of her life, but today felt different. Today, she was ready to confront the worst year of her life—the year that had changed everything.

"I don't even know where to start," Charlotte said, her voice trembling slightly. She fidgeted with her hands, her fingers twisting the hem of her sweater as if grounding herself for the storm of memories about to come.

"Start wherever feels right for you," Dr. Peterson said gently, her pen poised on the notepad, though her attention was fully on Charlotte.

Charlotte took a deep breath, closing her eyes for a moment before she began. "It was the year I was 19, about to turn 20. I guess, looking back, it was like the universe had decided to throw everything it could at me, all at once."

She opened her eyes and looked at Dr. Peterson, seeing the familiar compassion in her eyes. It was a safe space, she reminded herself. A space where she could finally speak the truths she'd buried.

"In January, I met him. The man who would later become my husband," she started, her tone detached. "At the time, I thought he was everything I needed. He was charming, attentive... said all the right things. I didn't see the red flags because I wasn't looking for them. I just wanted someone to fill the empty space inside me. And for a while, he did."

Charlotte let out a breath, her mind briefly lingering on those early days of that relationship, the hope she had felt, the excitement. But she quickly moved on.

"In March... I was assaulted in a bar." The words came out quickly, like a band-aid being ripped off, and she winced, her body tensing at the memory. "I—I was with friends, and it all happened so fast. One minute I was laughing, and the next... everything changed. I froze, I didn't know what to do. After that, I started withdrawing from people. I didn't feel safe anymore."

She looked away, her eyes distant as she continued. "But it didn't stop there. In May, my grandfather died. He was 93, and I knew it was coming, but when it actually happened... it hit me harder than I thought it would. He was in a nursing home for the last few years, and I hadn't seen him as much as I should've. I felt guilty for that. I still do."

Charlotte swallowed hard, feeling the familiar ache in her chest that came whenever she thought of her grandfather. He had been a steady presence in her life, even if they hadn't been particularly close in those later years. Losing him felt like losing a part of her family's foundation.

"And then in July, Jake—my brother-in-law—died." Her voice cracked as she said his name. "He was 28. So young. He just... his heart gave out. I didn't even know something was wrong with him. We used to go to music festivals, bowling, and just hang out like best friends. Losing him... it broke my sister, and it broke me. He was like the brother I never had, and suddenly he was gone."

Her hands tightened around the tissue Dr. Peterson had handed her. She paused for a moment, collecting herself before continuing.

"August was even worse," she said, her voice softening. "I had to put down Lulu, my childhood dog. She was 15, and I'd had her since I was a kid. I grew up with her. She was my constant, and when she was gone... I felt completely alone. But it didn't stop there. My last living uncle was diagnosed with cancer, and my grandmother's twin sister too. Everything was crumbling around me, and I couldn't keep up."

The air in the room felt heavier as Charlotte spoke, as if the weight of that year still clung to her, even now, years later.

"In November, a friend from school was found in a park. He'd hanged himself." Her voice faltered again, the guilt and sadness still fresh in her tone. "I hadn't seen him in a while, but when I heard the news... I couldn't stop wondering if I could have done something. Could I have helped? Should I have reached out? The guilt... it ate at me."