The Hypocrite

Chapter 31

I went to the office and filed a resignation. Nicco asked me if I really have to. I simply nodded. I now know who I am. "Do you know who I really am?" I asked
"Yes, Scarlet. I know who you are. You're Margareth Welds. You go by Scarlet because it sounds like Margareth and you hate being called Maggie."

"Oh."
There was a long pause.
"I have to go Nicco. I have had too much going on, I can't work for you anymore." I said.
"I understand. Just give me a call if you want to go back to work."
"Thank you."

I left his office without looking back. I can never look back without fixing myself first.

I continued my medication and attended all possible counseling I could get. Some days were rough. Some days were smooth. Some days are like this:

Somewhere deep into my thoughts, I still think of you. Your photographs remind me of all the good times we spent together. The only difference is that, you share those photos now with someone else. I can't blame you for that, and I'm honestly happy that you are right now. I sat down, sipping my coffee in an early ‪Saturday morning‬ as I reminisce some of the good times we had. I run my fingers through my hair and mumbled "What happened with us?". I stared at the window and all the memories we had creeped in. Marco. Marco.

I shook my head.
He is not real.

***
Mom has ever been supportive. Since my condition is rare and some people don't actually recover from brain injury, I can feel my self improving. I'm more aware now that I'm Margareth and not the girl I thought I was. Marco isn't a real guy, he's just my "dream" guy. The hallucinations stopped. Mom always tell me that I am now gripping to reality. Mom knew everything, she just said nothing for me to find out things on my own. She's the one who brought me to the mental care countless times in five years. She hoped for me to get better.

It went on for a year and I decide to go back to Seattle hoping to get my work and life back. I am now back to my original clothing. Nothing fancy, just plain me. Plaid shirt, skinny jeans and low cut boots. I feel like me, even more. I told mom I feel better and I have to do the things I love before I completely lose my mind. After a couple of persuading, she finally agreed. To one condition: I always need to come home every weekend and see Dr. Mirtbridge every two weeks. I agreed. There's nothing more I can not agree to.

I'm going back to Seattle.
I'm going to see Nicco.
I hope he still wants to see me.