Gifted

Chapter Twenty One

My life has been a true, living hell for the past eight days. Everything went downhill in a matter of time, nowhere felt safe. I isolated myself from the outer world, I didn't leave the house at all costs.

I locked myself in my room and only got out to use the bathroom or to grab a quick bite. My bedroom was my safe haven...and even in here, I didn't feel completely safe.

My parents arranged a week off from work, to take care of me... without any luck, I didn't even look them in the eye. I just ignored them and didn't respond to any of their attempts to communicate.

How could I? Imagine, just imagine... the Chief killed my parents and Liam just to hurt me... to torture me. That's what's going through my mind every time I see them. They could have died.

I just wanted to be left alone, but they didn't allow me to. Mom didn't leave my side and kept trying to communicate with me. She would leave my room after ten minutes, after she gave me an everlasting lecture about my 'attitude' towards her.

Ungrateful, was the word she used the most. She thought I was faking it and also assumed I was overreacting this entire time. You've been given a second chance, don't waste it she said after every lecture.

Dad was easy on me, he didn't push me to talk to him and told me to take my time. But he also lost his patience after a few days, but unlike Mom, he kept his thoughts to himself and left my room without saying anything.

I know it's a difficult time for them as well, but it's not like I enjoy behaving like this. I really, really don't feel like talking to them, or anyone else in general. But they didn't understand.

They had comments on everything I did, or better said... on the things I didn't do.

I didn't eat and drink properly, I basically skipped all my meals and the only thing I ate is just a few bites of something Mom prepared.

Sleep wasn't known in my vocabulary anymore. I had trouble with sleeping since the first day, I didn't sleep a wink that night. It's better now, I counted the amount of hours I slept. Approximately thirty hours over eight days. But, it could be more or less... so you can imagine how exhausted I am right now.

My parents arranged a therapist for me, Cindy. She's visiting me every day to 'talk' to me about what happened. She's the one who talks while I'm the one who ignores her questions and doesn't respond, it's more like a monologue, actually.

Cindy talked to my parents and Liam, since she can't get anything out of me to work with. My parents told her about me ignoring them, my sleeping and eating problems, my isolation and my anxiety.

Liam told her about our first movie night together, to help me clear my mind. He bought a bag of popcorn and put it in the microwave for a few minutes. I had a panic attack when I heard the popping, I started to cry and hyperventilate like crazy... It took Liam almost an hour to calm me down and convince me it wasn't another shooting.

Every little sound was a trigger for me, almost everything made me relive that day. The doorbell, microwave, even if the door closes... it made me lose my mind. It was like the soldiers were coming to get me and end my life, that's all I thought about.

It didn't take Cindy long to figure out what was wrong with me. She diagnosed me PTSD, short for Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder.

She prescribed me several medications, each for another problem. One will help me sleep better, the other one will help me relax and so on.

I have been taking these for three days now, and I still haven't swallowed a single pill. My parents think I did, since they let me 'take' it under their watch. I place the pills under my tongue before I drink the water. They just see me swallow the water and assume I swallowed the pills along with it. After they leave, I take them out and flush them through the toilet so they won't find it out.