Scarred

1. forget

They said seeing a therapist would help. It didn't. 

Really, it only made it worse. The sessions made me remember things that I wanted to forget. But I went anyways. I went because it made my grandma happy. I went because my aunt kept crying. I went because it got me out of the house. 

"How are you feeling today, Jess?" My therapist asks. She has obnoxious red hair and her makeup isn't done right. It's distracting. They said that she was good with teens but I thought she looked better with biker dudes. 

I look out the window. There was a little blue bird sitting outside. I began to think of all the tragic ways it could die. Then suddenly the bird caught on fire and began screeching at the top of it's lungs. I gasped and fell off the side of the couch. 

"Jessica!?" My therapist yelped. 

My breathing was heavy as I looked out the window again. The bird was gone. The bird was fine. 

I picked myself up and sat on the couch again, mumbling an excuse about weird reflexes. She nods and looks at her notes. 

"So, have you been doing the exercises I gave you." 

I shake my head no and make an effort to chew my gum as loudly as possible, just like she told me not to. I think she chose to ignore me this time though. 

"Why not?" She said, a look of disappointment on her face, "They are important." 

I shrug. "Sorry Ms. Long..."

"Ms. Lang." She corrected me. 

"Right!" I roll my eyes, "Anyways, I don't do them because they don't help." 

This sent her into a frenzy of explanations why they HAD to help me. Really? Writing in a cute pink journal about feelings? Give me a break. If I was being honest I hadn't even done any of the other assignments she gave me. I usually said I did and that they were ok. But I was sick of making up answers. I decided to just tell the truth. Turns out neither is a good option. 

"Understood?" She said. I had no idea what I was to understand but I nodded lamely. 

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After our session I stepped out into the main street of my town. It was one of the hipster towns with cute coffee shops on every corner and probably had the only store left that sold records. My grandmother lived only about 4 blocks down so I walked everywhere. 

As I walked home I came the conclusion that I need to find a new way to get out of the house. This option was going to make me go insane. Maybe I could join a book club. Eww....that sounded like an old lady thing. Maybe I could learn how to draw. Then again, I doubt that would end well. 

I shook my head. It's been 3 years since the accident but still I couldn't move on. I had to find something to do with my life. 

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HEY YOU ALL! 

First chapter. What do you think. Should I keep her name Jess? (short for Jessica)

bella.