Take Me Away

C h a p t e r 1 : Perfect Strangers

"Where do you wanna go?" he squeezed her hand and smiled. He was admiring at her, like he always had. His hand held in hers made every mistake they've made worth it.

She heard the train approaching. She looked out the window, staring at the railroad.

The railroad that could change her life forever.

She faced him.

"Just..." She sighed contemplating what she was about to say.

"Take me away."

  ~ * ~     1 year earlier...     ~ * ~

A soft, cold breeze flew in from the slightly opened window, a few centimeters away from the white couch I sat on in the small beige waiting room.

Across the room, the door handle turned and a skinny brunette wearing a white blouse and a burgundy skirt appeared in the lamp lit space.

"Delilah Michaelson?" The lady called.

I looked around the room hoping to find another Delilah Michaelson to take my place for the hour. Sadly, I was the only one in here.

"I'm Dr.Wilson. Please come in."

I stood up and walked in slowly.

The office was surprisingly calming. A maroon couch against a shuttered window, two chairs opposite a coffee table with a bowl full of those Lifesaver mints.

Also a plug-in air freshener that made the room smell like cinnamon apple, which I did not mind.

Dr. Wilson sat in one of the chairs.

I tossed my bag on the floor with a loud thump.

Honors textbooks are bricks!

Then slid down on the long maroon couch.

"Nice place," I said. "You should get one of those swinging thingy with the silver balls. My last doctor had one." I smirked. "Also, maybe a water cooler with the hot and cold taps."

"If you'd like some water, there's a pitcher by the sink. I'd be happy to get-"

"Never mind." I cut her off. I've already sipped more words than I planned to say the whole hour.

Dr. Wilson tucked her feet under her thighs and propped her chin in her palm.

"What brings you here today?"

My red mazda technically brought me here. But the way Wilson looked at me made me not say that. She looked interested.

The seventeen mile road brought me here. And every second of me being here just reminded me that I wasn't back at school warming up for that afternoon's cross-country meet.

Bad luck brought me here.

Or was it the letter from Silk Water Hospital, stating that because of my recently attempted suicide, therapy was not optional but mandatory?

I looked up at the ceiling. "You know why I'm here." I muttered.

"I'd love to hear you put it into words."

"My father's wife."

"Are you having problems with you stepmother?"

"Ashley makes the appointments that's why I'm here."

My therapy was one of Dad's wife's causes. First she made me go to therapy to deal with the divorce, then to grieve my mother's and boyfriends death. Now to deal with the suicide attempt.