Kimberley Andersen, at just 25, is leaving behind a shadowy career with a secret organization she was involved with since the age of 16. Her decision to join the LAPD marks her attempt to live a more normal life and work alongside her mother, Captai...
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Kim sat in the small, sterile room for her second session, her fingers idly toying with the hem of her jacket as she waited for Dr. Caldwell to arrive. The scent of lavender from a small diffuser was meant to be soothing, but it only made her feel like the walls were closing in. It wasn't that therapy was bad; it just dredged up things she'd spent years burying.
She wasn't sure if that was a good thing.
Dr. Caldwell walked in with that same soft smile she wore last time, clipboard in hand. "Good to see you again, Kim. How have you been feeling since we last met?"
Kim shrugged, offering a tight smile. "I don't know. A little on edge, I guess. Work's been...intense."
"Intense how?" Dr. Caldwell asked, settling into her chair with a pen poised to take notes. Kim found herself watching the subtle movement of the pen, feeling like each stroke was an invasion of her thoughts.
She sighed. "I just...I had a moment out on the field. Something triggered me, and for a second, I thought I was being shot at again." Her voice dropped lower as she admitted the last part. "It freaked me out. Tim was there, though. He helped me pull it together."
Dr. Caldwell nodded as though this was exactly what she wanted to hear. "It's normal for your body to respond that way after trauma. Your brain is still processing what happened."
Kim shifted uncomfortably, feeling like her skin didn't quite fit right. "I don't want it to affect me like this, though. It's been six months, and I'm back on the field now. I need to be sharp."
"Trauma doesn't operate on a timeline," the therapist said, her tone gentle. "But I'm glad you're opening up about this. You've mentioned Tim before—he seems like a solid support system for you."
Kim nodded. "Yeah, he is. It's been...new, but good."
A brief silence fell between them, and Kim suddenly felt the need to change the subject. The attention made her feel exposed, like Dr. Caldwell was peeling back layers she wasn't ready to confront yet. "Anyway, I've been helping my friend Angela with her wedding stuff, and that's been a good distraction. Keeps my mind off the heavy stuff."
"Distractions are helpful, but it's important not to rely on them to avoid what's really going on inside." Dr. Caldwell leaned in a little closer. "How are you sleeping these days? Any nightmares?"
Kim hesitated. This was where it always got uncomfortable. Talking about the nightmares made them more real. "Sometimes. But not as much anymore. Just...flashes of that day, you know?"
Dr. Caldwell nodded sympathetically, but behind her eyes, something darker lurked, something Kim couldn't quite put her finger on. "It's all part of the healing process. You're doing well, Kim. But there's more we can uncover if you're willing."
Kim forced a smile. "Yeah, maybe next time."
But as she left the session, a strange unease lingered. She couldn't quite shake the feeling that something wasn't right—about the session, about Dr. Caldwell. Maybe it was just her own defenses, but a voice in the back of her head whispered that she needed to watch her step.
