Enter Apathy

Forced to Repress (3.)

Lilliana wakes up from a deep sleep, drenched in sweat. She gets up to open the window and lets the morning breeze roll in, then plops back down into her bed. Lying on her back and staring at the ceiling, she thinks of the nightmare that disturbed her rest. Only chunks and parts remain in her memory now. Flashes of moments. Closing her eyes, she recalls what she can. Her Aunt Cindy's face floats into view, worried and frantic as she wakes Lilliana up. The scene jumps from that one to another. She sees light coming in from where she hides in the hope chest. A man beats another to death, the blood spatters about recklessly. Dead eyes and pooling blood of her beloved aunt stare back at her. The scene jumps again. Her uncle's dead foot peeks out from behind the doorway to the living room and it unsettles her, deeply. Someone is questioning her, but she can't hear what the questions actually are and she can't manage to say anything. The scene changes one final time, she feels the movement of her parent's car lull her to sleep. The dream ends, and she wakes up tense. Two weeks have passed since her encounter at Bara Cafe. Nightmares have plagued her sleep since then, takng away her rest and her comfort, and making her endlessly uneasy.

        Lilliana's eyes burn from staring at the white ceiling for too long, so she closes them tightly and drapes her arm over her face. Her appointment with Dr. Winston is today. The urge to lay in bed forever and ignore all her responsibilities creeps up her spine with a violent force, but she forces it away and gets out of bed. On her way to the shower, she sets a light blue blouse and black slacks on her dresser. Steam clouds the bathroom as Lilliana cleans herself, thinking again of the nightmare, wondering why it segmented into chunks, and why pieces were missing. Frustration visits her mind, sitting heavy on her shoulders. It shouldn't be like this. She had already managed the nightmares and worked so damn hard to get rid of them. She runs an errand to a cafe and suddenly she's right back to where she started? It doesn't make any sense. She'd talk to Dr. Winston, see if there was a solution to make them go back to their bay. Her bones just don't sit right in her body since the incident. An alarm screams from Lilliana's room, alerting her that it's time to go. She rushes to finish her shower and gets dressed. She'll have to leave in the next five minutes if she wants to make it there on time.

In Dr. Winston's office, the walls are brown. Normally, Lilliana detests that color used for walls, because in her opinion it's too dark. Rooms need light to filter in. But in his office it creates a warm barrier, a safe place she can communicate. The carpet is much too fluffy, and the shelves are lined with more knick knacks and book dividers than actual books. A small cactus sits on a big desk. For the past eight years now, this had been a sort of home to Lillian. A big black two-seater couch served as a napping spot for her in the earlier years, but now it's just a couch. It felt nice to come here and sort the things in her brain out. She doesn't need to sort things out anymore though, she found a way to keep all the memories, trauma, and PTSD away from her full attention. Except for this dream, her progress these past three years has been great. That's why the frustration won't leave Lilliana's shoulders, and why she needs to talk about it. She hadn't had a panic attack in so long, why would one suddenly spring up? She only bought coffee and muffins. Strange names can't warrant random panic attacks, can they? She wishes she could settle on an answer, but it isn't likely to happen. Before she drowns in her thoughts and anxieties, Dr. Winston walks into the room, greeting Lilliana with a wide smile.

"Lilliana, how are you doing?" He asks as he sits behind the big desk, facing the couch she's planted herself on, just like so many times before. His gray tousled hair is streaked with white, and he wears small, round-rimmed glasses.

She takes a deep breath. "I'm doing alright." She looks into his eyes, those eyes she knows so well.

Silence hangs in the air. Lilliana doesn't like talking about feelings. She doesn't have many, and the ones she does have are confidential.