Velicious Book One (un-editied)

Chapter 2

Justice POV

Present Day. Toronto, Ontario

 I know I'm not crazy, despite what everyone else believes, and I am fully aware that I can’t change their minds; but the definition of crazy means ‘mentally deranged, demented and insane.’ And I believe in no way am I close to any of those descriptions.

 My family does not suffer from any mental illness. My older sister suffers from a goddess complex; my little sister suffers from being babied too much syndrome, but no mental illness to bring on what happened that night. That’s my story, that’s the truth no matter how horrible it sounds to my family or anyone else.

 Sighing dolefully, I fix my attention on Dr. Fields, sitting across the room from me in his stereotypical brown leather sofa, a book in his lap, pen in his grasp, and I want to leave—I'm tired of being here. I'm fed up with talking about my emotions, that horrible night and what I feel and remember a year later.

 Finally ready to answer his question, I lied. “No, I don't believe that I was in the presence of death,” and Dr. Fields cast his brown pegging eyes on me.

 In all truth, it wasn't an expression one could notice. To someone who hasn't spent almost a year talking to this man two days a week, Dr. Fields would seem nonchalant, like he hasn't a care in the world with his receding hair line, floral out of date dress shirts and glasses.

  Dr. Fields’ scrutinizing glares started to become more and more frequent since I stopped insisting about being in the presence of death. How many people can honestly say that they’ve been in the presence of death? Granted there is probably a handful of them, like the ones who survived cancer or some fatal accident, but did you ever feel the kind of fear that ruptures through your body with the acknowledgment of not being able to move your own limbs? As if you were paralyzed, frozen on the outside but in the inside you’re screaming and banging on the pellucid glass hoping someone may come to your rescue?

 I can recall a faint voice that wasn't mine in the back of my head commanding my physical form to move. I remember envying my tears’ freedom to escape the qualm that commanded my fingers one by one gripping the knife, and the absolute churning in my stomach is unforgettable.

 Is it the same as realizing that you have cancer; falling off of a hundred foot cliff; having your lungs swell with water; waking up in the middle of surgery or having someone beat you to death with a baseball bat?

 Have you experienced such fear? If you have, well then, it seems I’m not alone.

 Slightly glancing away from Dr. Fields, I was maddened by his heavy analyzing and pondering leer. Silence screams louder than words. I looked up at his bookshelf to the left of me, scanning over his multitudes of doctor books and certificates—same old books always in the same place. My eyes drifted along his beige wall finding more certificates, awards, diplomas, and I swear the one to the far left is a new certificate.

 Settling my gaze on the family therapist, I tried to find the right words to explain, in detail, what was going on in my head. Now that I think about it, for a family to have a therapist that does make me – us, my family – look a little crazy. I mean, let me say, unlike my siblings I have never had issues to see a therapist. Mya, my older sister by three years, overdosed on drugs at a party and the paramedics had to revive her back to life. You would think that would make my dear, crazy sister stop, and re-evaluate her life knowing that she died and was brought back to life. But no, Mya took that as my life is meant for greatness, and a few years later she ran off to Hollywood and became a Victoria’s Secret model.

 Kailah, my little sister, has no issues yet, but our mother forces my seventeen-year-old sister to talk to Dr. Fields once a week, to talk about her emotions and life. According to our mother, she has two screwed up daughters and she doesn't want a third kid flying over the cuckoo's nest into a dark abyss—my mother's exact words. My mother can be just a tad dramatic when she's ready. And last but not least, Mom drags Daddy to see Dr. Roberts—couples’ counseling.