Her Mistake.

Chapter 5: Talking About the Accident

     I walk into the office look around, it's pretty ordinary for a therapists office. The chair she sits in the couch I sit on, her degree on the wall behind us. A desk in the far left corner with a picture of her and her son in it. "No dad?" I ask pointing to the picture.     

     She clears her throat, must be an uncomfortable topic for her. "No, left before Jackson was born, typical college guy right?"

     "My dad stayed." I say shooting her a glare. She shifts uncomfortably, as if I make her uncomfortable in her own skin. Good.

     "Your mother is a very lucky woman then."

"Was." I correct with a little more hatred than anticipated.

     She shifts again, but steadily walks over to her chair, she gestures to the couch "Take a seat, please." I smirk, and exhale out my nose. But still I cooperate and walk over to the couch. "Why are you here today?" She asks trying to sound as nice and friendly as she could. "Shouldn't you already know?" I say whipping my head to my eye contact with her. She takes a frustrated inhale. "Actually I don't would you mind telling me?"

      I prop my feet up on the couch trying to act as if I don't care about anything. But really I'm fighting back tears, it isn't working. "Excuse me Ms. Johnston tell me what you're hear for or I'm going to tell your mother I'm not doing your therapy anymore." I take a sharp inhale and with a trembling voice say "no that won't be necessary." I blink my eyes hard making the tears dissipate from my eyes and I swallow the lump that feels like a rock coming up my throat to say "I'm here because my dad died, and it was a horrific experience."

      I can feel the sympathy in her eyes, even though I'm not looking at her or her eyes. I can feel them looking at me, I can feel the sympathy in them. I'm begging for it to go away. I'm begging for all the attention to go away all the sympathy to leave, I don't deserve it. I. Killed. Him.

      She begins to speak again, "What do you mean by horrific experience?"

"I mean it was horrific to see my father die, it was even more horrific to be the one who killed him."

"What do you mean by 'the one who killed him'?"

      "I mean it was horrific to be the one who crashed the car that killed my father. To watch your family grief stricken and you be the one who caused them this such distress. To have not just killed your father but to have killed 3 other people."

"Is this really how you feel about the accident?"

"Yes, I feel as if I should be dead, I crashed the car why am I still alive?"

"All things happen for a reason, just wait till you find out what that reason is."

      "So my dad died for a reason? I'm still alive for a reason?" My voice is starting to gradually get louder, "Well then what's the reason? I'm sitting her wait," and that point I was yelling but my voice starts to die out and there's tears streaming down my face. "waiting for you to show me the reason."

      She waits for me to calm down which takes about 20 minutes before asking "Did you think the reason would be presented to you on a silver platter just as soon as the accident was over?"

"Well if I'm still here for some important reason, then why hasn't it come to me yet if it's so important?"

"Did you ever stop to think that maybe you were kept alive for something a little further down the road?"

"Even if that is true, it's not fair."

      "I mean are you gonna sit around and be devastated all the time? Do you think anyone who loved or loves you would want that for you? Maybe you're here because you haven't fully lived, haven't been in love, haven't experienced anything amazing, or haven't  had a complete adventure, know as life yet."

      "But--" she cuts me off to tell me my time is up and that I need to go on that note anyways. "Ponder on what I just told you, don't let it slip your mind.

                                                                              ****

      I'm walking around outside the huge gray building that's towering over me, thinking it has to be at least 4 stories. I wonder why so many?

      I walk to the curb and start looking up and down the street for my mom, when some asshole rides up and his skateboard and runs me over. "Hey cunt muffin could you watch where you're going?" I say as he offers me his hand to help me up. I smack it out of my way and stand up on my own. I start to brush my jeans off, and realize that a rock or something next to me has torn a hole up the side of my pants. From the top of my knee to my mid-thigh. I look up and start to say something to the guy about him ruining my favorite jeans, when I realize that it's my therapists son. AKA Jackson Brooke. Ughh why won't this kid just get out of my life, I've known him for a whole what? 25 seconds and I already can't stand him, bite me. "Well I guess I was right about the cunt muffin part."

      Cunt muffin looks at me only to say "I'll buy you new jeans. But haven't your parents ever taught you manners?"

"Ugh shut up, shouldn't you be in school anyways?"

"I have lunch, I like to leave for lunch, school food no thanks." He says with a disgusted face.

      I roll my eyes at him "What?" he asks

"Are you seriously this stubborn?"

"Define what you mean by 'this stubborn'?"

"You wouldn't let me decline your help with directions earlier, and now you won't eat school lunch."

"That by no means makes me stubborn."

"Yes it does."

"Whatever, you probably shouldn't stand here though your bound to get his by a boarder."

"Are you insisting that little run in was my fault?"

"Well it kind of was."

"S T U B B O R N."

"Shouldn't you be in school?"

"Obviously I have an excuse cunt muffin." I stop and stare at him for a minute before asking "What school you go to anyways?"

      He smirks rolls his eyes and lets out a little laugh, confusing me, before saying "Yours, preppy."

"No you don't, I mean wouldn't I know you?"

"No little Ms. Preppy," he says letting out that same little laugh "you wouldn't you live in your own bubble. And I'm not in it."

"What are you talking about I know everyone at that school."

"Jocks and princesses don't count, they're in your bubble."

"You don't go to my school." I argue again.

Just as I say that my mom pulls up. I go to reach for the car handle, but before I get there someone else's hand is there, Jackson's. "Open my door" I demand.

      He just makes eye contact with me of course he has to look down to do so. He doesn't budge, he doesn't pull the door open, or move his hand away from the car handle. Just stands there staring down at me and I stare up and him. He's smirking and I'm trying to look as fierce as I can. "Open the door or let it go." I say much more firmly this time.

      He doesn't break eye contact while saying "As you wish, Katherine Johnston."

      I get and my moms car and think out loud "shit he does go to school with me." My mom gives me a strange look and I tell her "Just go." I watch him get smaller and smaller as we drive further and further away from him.

Thinking 'He must be right I must live in my own bubble.'