Jagged Edges

News

I lie awake. Everything's seems so surreal. My life is slowly being stitched back together. I am slowly recovering. I will be okay in the end. I can tell. It will never be the same, but it's better than it was. The fact that I can walk down the hall and see Elle sleeping is what keeps me calm at night. The fact that I can get out of bed and look in the mirror to see myself, alive, is still amazing me. I can walk outside and look at the watercolor painted dawn just revives me from all that has happened. I lift my head from the soft pillow that rested beneath it and stand up, away from my slumber where I want to stay. It's Sunday... Therapy Day. I walk over to my full length mirror and open the closet doers next to it. After a while thinking, I decide on a white loose crop top with a daisy on the front and my favorite light wash high waisted shorts. I slip on high top white converse shoes and start to examine myself in the mirror. I get out my makeup and lightly apply it to my face. I never really need to wear makeup but it feels like a luxury compared to how I felt when it was still going on. It's nice to be able to look in the mirror and not hate the reflection that stares back. I can examine myself an not insult myself anymore. With happy thoughts filling my head I skipp out of my room and into the kitchen to see Quinn, Jane and Charles already sitting at the table. They were once a family on their own but their kindness allowed them to open up their hearts and home to Elle and I. I sit next to Quinn, my previous best friend but now sister and she chirps "Good morning Rosie!"
"Good morning to you too", I reply, not nearly as cheerful as she wants me to be.
"Oh come on, Rose, it's not that bad"
"Not that bad? It's awful having to sit there in that stupid chair and talk about the stuff I want to leave behind. If that Therapist cared he would let me be and stop telling me what's wrong with me." I growl. I hate Therapy. They make me remember the worst parts of my life. The things that I have suppressed from my memories for a reason. I get up from the table and walk into Elle's room to wake her up. She get's dressed and we go into the bathroom together to brush our hair. We go out and have breakfast and we are out the door by 9:00 am. A thirty minute drive gives me enough time to formulate a plan. Don't respond and don't cooperate. It's a simple plan but going through with it is harder than you would think. All five of us walk into the the office-like lobby and Elle and I go in to our rooms alone. It took longer than usual but my therapist to show up he finally walks in. He wears a smug face along with his uniform consisting of all white. He then lays some news on me that is the last thing I want to hear. I will be going here every day for 2 months to have sessions. I want to scream. I can barely handle once a week and now every day! I hold it in and let him ask me the usual questions: How do you feel? Are you adjusting to living with the Peirsons? Is there anything bothering you? Have the nightmares stopped?
I nod and shake my head as a response and I started to feel drowsy. I fight to stay awake but his deep voice quickly merged into one long muffled sound. I can't think straight but I know one thing. He just broke my wall. He can now watch my memories.