ROUGH DRAFT of Loser || WlW

Twenty-One

The door shakes on its hinges as I pound my fist into the solid dark wood. I'm bouncing on the balls of my feet when the door opens, revealing my therapist, her hair falling in perfect brown curls around her pale face.

"Jordan?"

"I think I'm losing my mind." My words are pushed together as I wait for her to respond.

She gives her characteristic chuckle as she motions for me to come in. "You've missed your last six appointments."

"I've been busy." I play with the zipper on my jacket.

"So I've heard."

"From who?"

"What are you here for, Jordan?" She sits in her chair and I sit across from her. I hate it when she avoids my questions but we both know she's referring to Kyle. He and his partner have been tailing me since Claire went missing.

"My mom tried to murder us when we were kids," my throat feels swollen, "and when they asked her about it, she said she didn't remember anything. Is that possible?"

"You're asking if someone can commit crimes without memory of it?" She writes something in her notebook.

I nod.

"I suppose it could be possible, yes." She closes her notebook and leans forward, "But if you're referring to Claire, I'd like to point out how difficult it would be for an individual to overpower somebody else whilst being under the influence of drugs."

"You should tell detective Hemmett." I sigh.

She smiles again. "I have." She stands and puts the notebook on her desk. "You're my patient, Jordan. Your well-being is my primary interest."

I withhold an eye roll. She's just a puppet for the Hemmetts. Everyone in this town is. I sneak a glance at my phone. One missed call from Grace. My heart catches in my throat. I guess she's taking a break from the other girl.

"Have you learned anything else about that night?" she asks and leans on the edge of her desk.

I nod once but pause. Can I trust someone who's working for Kyle? "I passed out at work and Claire offered to give me a ride home but we stopped at a party. And someone at the party tried to roofie her but she gave me her drink which is why I don't remember anything."

She taps a finger to her lips. "Your mind is a very powerful tool, Jordan. Have you considered your subconscious might be at fault for muddying some of that night as well?" She sits in her chair again. "You could be extremely helpful to the investigation if you could push past some of those mental blocks."

"How would I do that?"

Her smile lights up. "Well, to start, I think these meetings would be helpful," she raises her eyebrows, "if you'll show up to them regularly."

My cheeks are on fire as I fumble through an apology.

"It's okay, Jordan." She lets out a professional giggle. Glancing at her watch, she adds, "I have about twenty minutes before my first client shows up. Do me a favor and relax. Take some deep breaths. In through the nose, out through your mouth." She sits in the chair across from me again. "I'd like to start by explaining a few things."

She smooths the wrinkles out of her slacks. "If you remember something from the night Claire went missing, don't panic. The memories can be altered so even if you remember something frightening, it could be made up. But perhaps we can start chipping away at some of the questions you have. How does that sound?"

I nod. Breathe in, breathe out.

"Okay." She smiles. "Tell me everything you remember. Be sure to include how you felt. It's okay to let yourself feel some of the same emotions again."

I go through my night at the pizza shop. Claire talking to me. The way she looked at me like we weren't from different worlds. Trevor bullied me. Nothing unusual.

I rub my forehead. "It's just fuzzy after that."

"Relax, Jordan. Tell me what you remember," the therapist soothes.

I let out a long breath. "Claire was kneeling over me when I woke up. Trevor was pissed because she offered to take me home. She was supposed to go see him play football." I chuckle as I remember the pouty boy in the corner of the pizza shop, glaring at Claire as she walked me out.

"Good. Keep going."

I sit forward in the chair, staring at the ground as the pieces come together. "It felt so weird. Being in her car. We had never talked before. She needed to stop by some guy's house to get something." I close my eyes. Think. It's too fuzzy. "I don't remember what. So, we stopped by and he was having a party. He handed her a beer and she gave it to me when he walked away. She said I needed something to take the edge off."

My heart is pounding in my ears. "Oh my god. Then she wanted to take me somewhere. I remember!" I tap the armrests on the chair. "It was," I scan the room. Where did we go? "It was this place... Someone used to take her there. When she was a kid, maybe?"

"Why did she want to go there?" The therapist is sitting on the edge of her seat, scribbling in her notepad.

"To get away." I nod. "She was uncomfortable with the crowd. I chugged the beer and we left. I remember a dirt road. Or maybe it was gravel." I stop and look at her.

She flashes me a warm smile and nods.

"She kept asking me if I was alright. She said I was being quiet. But the gravel was so loud. And I couldn't keep my eyes open. Everything was coming in through waves." I smile at the thought. "We were talking about life. School. How I'm a loser hanging out with the most popular girl in the school."

Her eyes are soft again as she offers a sympathetic smile.

"She said I'm not a loser." My lip quivers as I remember the night. The crisp air on my hot cheeks as we sat on the hood of her car. "That's all I remember," I say, tears pushing on my eyelids.

She nods, her eyebrows pulling together. "You can tell me if there's something else."

I shake my head. "There isn't." I stand and pull my backpack over my shoulder. "Thanks for your help today." I half-wave and rush from the room.

I wipe a stream of tears from my cheeks as I dial Brittany's number.

"What's up?" She pops her gum.

"Brittany." Her name shakes from my lips.

"You okay, Jordan?"

"Can you pick me up?" I ask. "I remembered something about that night."