- A lot of people share your fear. It’s nothing to be ashamed of.
- I know, but not many have gone through what I’ve gone through to get that fear.
- You’ve been saying that ever since we started our sessions, yet you never want to elaborate.
- How many sessions have we had so far?
- Why do you want to know?
- Since their court mandated, I want to know when can I stop seeing you.
- You don’t enjoy our sessions?
- To be honest, no. I do not enjoy my psyche being carved open by some stranger. No offence, doctor.
- None taken, and by the way, I get that a lot.
- You do? But you’re nice, and you’re very qualified. I know what I said was mean, but it’s literally me not you.
- Well, to answer your question, we’ve had three sessions so far. Look. You may not like me being all in your business, but since we’re going to have to see each other for some more time, how about we make it count?
- What are you suggesting?
- Maybe tell me a fun story from your past.
- In order for you to analyze it?
- Or so we could get to know each other a bit better, and I won’t be a stranger to you.
- Seems fine enough. Ok. When I was a little boy, we lived in a house by the ocean. It was grand, fascinating even, but I hated it there.
- Why?
- Every night, I’d see a hand coming out of the ocean to wave at me, then go beneath the waves as if it never existed.
- Oh. Had someone drowned there?
- Matter of fact, yes.
- So, you witnessed a drowning?
- Not really. The only drowning that had happened near our house happened over 50 years prior.
- Oh.
- Oh, indeed. You might wonder why I kept looking at the ocean at the same time every night even though it terrified me.
- Sounds like a good question to ask. Why did you look?
- A part of me didn’t want to look, but another part of me was addicted to the mystery. Who did the hand belong to? Why did it wave the same time every night? Why was I the only one that cared? Why weren’t the police involved? Was I ever going to find out what the hell was this?
- You had a ton of unanswered questions, so you tried to go in the ocean.
- To no avail, I must add. All of my friends used to go swimming, but I wouldn’t. I didn’t tell them the story. My parents bullied me enough. I told my friends I was addicted to salt, and it worked. I even had to fake a diet at school so no one would question me.
- You kept this secret hidden well.
- I did. Even as I got older, I’d stare at the ocean at night, see the hand, notice that no one is looking, then continue my life as if nothing ever happened. To them, I was the quiet kid. In my head, I was drowning near that hand, trying to find answers.
- Then came your 18th birthday.
- My parents decided it was the best time for me to take diving lessons. I learned how to swim in the town’s pool, but I think they wanted to embarrass me. They gave me the gift in front of my friends, told everyone it was embarrassing to live by the ocean yet not dive. My friends didn’t say a word. I was grateful.
- You went to take the lesson.
- Even though my parents gave this to me as a gift, but that didn’t mean I had a say in the matter. I had to.
- Your first lesson?
- Started out great, then a bunch of seaweed came into view and I panicked. Second dive, a little fish did the trick.
- Was your instructor nice?
- Extremely. He’s the one that told me I had thalassophobia, and that he had a ton of students who had the same problem, so it was ok. He guided me for four lessons that went semi smoothly, then he said he thought it was a good idea to dive at night. I refused. He didn’t push it.
- But you requested it days later.
- I thought if I was at the ocean the same time as the hand, I’d finally have some answers, and I wouldn’t be alone.
- So, you went to the ocean with your instructor.
- I did. It was fine at first, but the later it got, the more anxious I got. My instructor noticed, and he wanted to stop the lesson, but I refused. I stopped where I though the hand would be, and dived. He followed suit. The water was dark and murky, illuminated by a little flashlight that was tied to my diving gear. Every movement caused me more anxiety, every little wave, then…
- Then what?
- I couldn’t see anything. I just heard screams, but that’s it. I guess I was screaming too, for I ran out of oxygen. I wanted to reach the surface, but I couldn’t, so I started kicking, I hit something hard, then I screamed and kicked some more, and I broke the water’s surface.
- What do you remember after this?
- Nothing at all. I think I fainted from lack of oxygen.
- You did.
- When I came to, I was screaming my instructor’s name.
- They didn’t tell you what happened to him at first, right?
- Yeah. That terrified me. I thought whatever was there that night got him.
- Lucky for you, it didn’t, but it did cause some serious damage. I know what you went through was a lot to take, but you do need to realize something. There was nothing there.
- They told me that, but what blocked my vision then?
- Nothing. There was nothing or no one there but you and the instructor, and the hard thing you hit while kicking to get to the top was your instructor.
- They told me that too, but I don’t understand. Where was it?
- Where was what?
- The hand.
- Where do you think it was?
- Maybe that day, the hand was me.
