Keeper Of Light |book 2|

Chapter 2. Forgetting

She was looking out the window again. This time the room was different. It was of a calming dark green color, instead of the white walls the hospital had. Plants and succulents covered the window sill as white drapes flew around from side to side with the wind that was coming in. Her head was ringing. It was like she was underwater. Conscience was saying something to her, at least she could tell his mouth was moving.

"What about your father?" she heard someone ask.

Her mind paused. Angelina snapped her head back to the older woman who was sitting in front of her. Her glasses were tilted to the very edge of her nose, and she held a notebook in her hands. A grey fringe played above her eyes.

"What?" Angelina asked again, realizing where she was.

The woman sighed, putting the note pad next to her on the couch, "what about your father? Do you remember him at all?"

"What does my father have to do with the fact that I made up an imaginary world?" She asked.

The therapist, who was assigned to her, smiled, "well, sometimes our brains come up with wonderful ways to deal with things we lack. We can create a father figure for ourselves, a whole world if we feel like we don't belong in this one. You said that you were lonely, you didn't have your father, and what you have described in all of those people in your world-"

"Edmund is not my father-" Angelina turned around and corrected the doctor.

The woman nodded, "perhaps not, but he can be a sort of father figure. He takes care of you, makes you feel wanted."

"Lady," Angelina smirked, "I admit, we all have daddy issues sometimes, but you're way off."

The therapist sighed, "well then why don't we try talking those issues out. Tell me about your father."

Angelina closed her eyes, as if trying to visualize him. Truth be told, she had forgotten what he looked like. She was only a child when he left.

"He was tall, his back was turned to me," she started remembering, "he was blocking out the sun, I can't see his face, but he bought me ice cream. He took me to see the flamingos, and then he said that he was going to go away for a while."

"Flamingos?" The doctor asked, writing it down.

"We were at a zoo," Angelina opened her eyes. That was all she could remember. It was strange trying to remember him. She had resented him for all these years, hated him, didn't even know him.

The therapist watched her carefully, as if reading her, "he let you down?"

"Of course, what kind of a father leaves his child?" She could cry, but she didn't want to. Not that she had control over it, but she tried her best.

The woman had nothing to say, what kind of a father leaves their child? But what could she say. Nothing she would say could make it better. Perhaps there was a reason none of them knew about, but could that reason possibly be justified after the damage was done?

"Why did you become a therapist?" Angelina asked as she looked at a picture on top of the windowsill. It was of her therapist and an older woman whom she was hugging. Looking to the direction of the picture, the woman smiled.

"That is my grandmother. She inspired me," she said and then looked down, "my grandmother had a friend when she was growing up, who believed in a world similar to yours, so she dedicated her time into researching such things, tried to help."

"Did she?" Angelina asked, a little sarcastically.

The woman looked back at her, her eyes a little saddened, "no, she never saw her again. She still continued though, became the best in her field. Isabella."

"Isabella?"

"My grandmother," the woman smiled and picked up her note pad again, "let us continue this session shall we, we only have a couple of minutes left."

Angelina smirked, perhaps by some miracle this was exactly the answer she was looking for. It could have also been by chance that there was a woman named Isabella once who's best friend believed in a world similar to hers.

"How often does your mind slip away into this magical world?" The therapist asked.

Angelina couldn't think of a lie anymore, "I stay there all the time, as if I cross some sort of magical boarder and I am just there for as long as possible-"

She heard the older woman scribble something in her notepad again and snapped back to reality. She had to be careful with what she tells this woman, who knew what kind of thing she could say to incriminate herself. The worst thing that could happen was that she would be forced to go to some mental hospital and never be let out. Her mother would never let that happen, would she? Her doctor was explaining something to her, but again Angelina couldn't hear her, her mind was focused on something else.

"Your mother is here to pick you up, and our session is over," the therapist smiled warmly. She stood up from the couch opposite of Angelina's and made her way back to her desk. Standing up and walking past the exit door, Angelina looked out the window. She could try to escape and run, there was a fire escape that was connected to the window, but what would be the point. Her mother was standing outside next to her car, tapping away on her phone.

It was the beginning of Autumn and Angelina wrapped her scarf tighter around her neck as she walked out of the apartment building where her therapist's office was. Everything looked so orange, but it would look even better in Narnia.

"Hi honey," he mom kissed her on the forehead, "get in."

She hopped in the car. The ride was silent, her mother spent the entire time on her phone talking to people she worked with. Angelina looked out the window, watching the road outside. When the car stopped at a red light, Angelina looked up and noticed someone standing at a bus stop. From a far he really reminded her of Edmund, same dark brown hair and pale face, but she knew it couldn't be him. Looking a little closer she noticed how the boy was staring directly at her. How he saw her through the tinted windows she had no idea, but she swore he smirked. His eyes, as if sparkling, called to her. Feeling a tingle in her fingers, she could almost feel Aslan's light, but the second the stoplight turned green and her mother sped away, the feeling was gone. She looked in the rear view mirror and couldn't see Conscience in the back seat like she always did. Narnia was fading from her mind with every second she spent in the real world. If she were to forget completely, perhaps she could never get back? Thinking that way was not the right move, she had to think positively. If she found a way into Narnia once, she was going to do it again. If there was one portal there should be many more.