🎼🌙Fly Me To The Moon🌙🎼 (FMTTM Book 1)

💞TLC💞

(A/N: If you are someone who suffers from PTSD and are uncomfortable reading about it, please wait till the next chapter. Unless you want to read it, but if it will affect I beg you do what is in your best interest.)

*Alastor*

I woke up in my secret room from a nap. I was dreaming of Angel prior to waking myself up. I dreamt of us on a date together.  It was magical to me. Just us dancing in a meadow to all m favorite songs that he adored hearing me sing. I smiled at the thought and walked downstairs to see Angel arguing with Charlie.

¨Charlie! I´m telling you I´m fine! I don´t want therapy!¨ I agreed, Angel didn´t need therapy. He needed support emotionally. Angel never seemed like the person to want therapy. He always handled it himself. He needs to feel independent and not helpless. I jumped in.

¨Charlie it is up to the residents to decide what they need.¨ I said calmly. She looked shocked that I wasn´t on her side. ¨We need to help them that suits them. Not everyone is the same, and have different needs. Let´s get a drink Angel.¨ He smiled to me and nodded.

¨Charlie I just don´t wanna feel crazy… if you could figure something else out as a therapy I´d be all in!¨ He smiled to her as we walked. She smiled that they compromised. We went and I made some coffee for us. I drank mine black and watched curiously as Angel put a bunch of sugar, creamer, for some reason whip cream. I mean, this adorable man put like 3 different flavored creamers in. I smiled, and got so distracted by his beauty that I dropped my coffee into my lap and the cup fell and broke.

¨Damnit!”I yelled as I stood up abruptly. Angel jumped a bit and looked like he was lost in a memory, about to cry.

¨P-Please don´t hurt me...¨ He hid behind the island in the kitchen. I realised he was stuck in the memory of the… recent events. I immediately went over and hugged him close as he cried.

¨Don´t worry, I´m not going to hurt you. I would never hurt you. I will keep you safe at any cost darling.¨ He kept crying into my shoulder out of a blind fear. Evenrtually he calmed down and looked around almost confused.

¨W-What happened?...¨ I helped him up.

¨You had a bit of a panic attack or something. Seemed like a flash back almost… like PTSD.¨ I looked to Angel and he laughed.

¨Al calm down. I´m ok. It was just a little spook. I promise I´ll get help, ok?” I smiled to him and nodded. I walked off and cleaned the broken cup along with the spilled coffee. Then went upstairs and changed, but I went to Charlie to tell her my concerns. She was in her office typing on her laptop.

¨Charlie do you have a moment dear? I´m deeply troubled.¨ My smile was faltere and I felt worried for Angel.

¨Of course Alastor! C´mon in!¨ I sat with her and felt my small smile pull into a frown.

¨Charlie I think Angel is having a form of PTSD… he practically freaked out when I dropped a cup earlier. I think if we don´t find a treatement for him he could get worse.¨ Charlie looked shocked and nodded.

¨Well how bad is it?¨ She asked. I sighed. In the afterlife I´ve read many books in the medical field so I had some understanding.

¨There are 5 stages. Yesterday Angel was in stage 1, the Emergency Stage. Where he is constantly on edge. Yesterday he wouldn´t talk to anyone and was so anxious after we saved him. Today he is in between Stages 2 and 3. 2 being the Denial stage. His brain is trying to lesssen the emotional stress by repression but that will only lead to stage 3. The nightmares and flashbacks like he had earlier. We need to get him to stage 4 so he can start accepting the problem, and understand it is just a part of life and he isn´t the only one. After that, we need to get him to stage 5… which means we integrate a therapy for him that comforts him and helps him feel safe in his body again. ¨ Charlie looked shocked as I finished.

¨Well Al, I´ve been looking for things that could help Angel. Different therapies that could help, but the only one I think could work is art therapy. It could help him work through the ´undigested´ memories and help him bring back a connection of safety to his body.¨ I nodded. I wanted to be at the frontlines of helping Angel recover. I went to the kitchen to see Angel steering clear of glass dishes. Which was understandable. He must have registered that it is a trigger for him.

¨Angel dear, can I talk to you?¨ Angel jumped a bit, another sign of anxiety from the prior experience.

¨Yeah, sure thing cutie.¨ He smiled and walked over to me.

¨Angel, I know you think you´re ok, but… can I just tell you what I think may be going on?¨ Angel shook his head knowing what was coming.

¨PTSD… I know. Common in my family. Not by genetics of course, but we all been through a lot. Do you think I´m crazy?...¨ He looked teary eyed.

¨No, I think you´re like every other person in this hotel, someone who just needs a shoulder to lean on. I know you don´t want Charlie to be the one helping you. So I wanted to ask you, if you´d let me guide you through a therapy that lets you be independent and express your feelings, in an environment where you won´t be pitied or shamed.¨ I held one of his hands gently and… he looked so confused and a bit happy.

¨I´d like that… a lot actually.¨ He smiled to me and hugged me close to him. I smiled hugging him back. Then we seperated.

¨Lets meet at the end of this week in your room. That way you´re in a more comfortable environment.¨ Angel nodded and giggled as he ran off to eat his meal. I smiled. I was glad I could help him get through this difficult time.

Credit to:

https://www.healthline.com/health/art-therapy-for-ptsd#5

https://theoakstreatment.com/ptsd/the-stages-of-ptsd-recovery/

These two cites gave me amazing information to write this chapter. I never would have worked with PTSD, until I realized Panic Attacks don´t have flashbacks this severe or if any, so I did some work and found PTSD made the most sense for Angel´s condition. If anyone does have PTSD or thinks they could be having symptoms, talk to someone you trust or get a therapist. Whether is be art therapy, music therapy, or traditional talking. Find something that works for you.