Ashes, Ashes

Enough

-c h a p t e r   t w e n t y   o n e -

"Guess what," Emma said, tilting her head. "You'll never guess. I've done something terrible, and now I feel like imploding on myself."

"Well, you've come to the right place to talk about it," Dr. Thompson said, looking down at that yellow notepad with her poorly made scribbles that she decided to call handwriting. God, Emma hated this. She loathed the fact that her only hope for salvation lay within this claustrophobic room, with this woman who she knew was paid to care.

"You want to know why I want to implode on myself?"

"You said you felt like you were going to implode a few monents ago, not that you wanted going to end up imploding on yourself," Dr. Thompson said, tilting her head to the side. "Certainly there must be a reason for this shift in your mind."

"It's because I don't want to be here," Emma cooed, placing a false smile on her face. "I just wanted to come here because I didn't want to have to suffer through this alone. I mean, I have nothing but a cat and a cello and paintbrush to keep me company."

"Well, you said you did a terrible thing. Can you share that with me, Emma?"

"I thought you would never ask, Natalie," Emma said, keeping that same facade of a smile on her lips. All it took was a few muscles and a tiny amount of concentration. Then she didn't have to worry about focusing on it. "I did something truly terrible, and now I hate myself for it even more."

"I didn't know you hated yourself to begin with," Dr. Thompson said, ignoring the fact that Emma chose to use her first name just in an attempt to bother her.

"I'm always in hate with myself, Natalie. Funny, because I'm also in love with myself. It's a horrible relationship - maybe it's even abusive. I think I'm going to get a divorce."

"Emma," her therapist sighed, leaning forwards in an attempt to make eye contact and show the severity of the dilemma at hand. "You need to tell me what the problem is. I can't help you if you keep the problem secret."

"You'll think it's just another thing that dumb Emma did, though. I mean, it's so typical of me."

"I'm not a mind reader, Emma. I can't simply look at you and figure out whatever it is that ails you."

Emma looked at her therapist with a slight glow in her eyes for several moments, wondering if she understood just what she'd said. Of course, Natalie didn't understand just how significant her words had been. She just didn't get it, because she didn't live beneath 221B. Maybe she needed to move in - Emma did need someone nearby at all times.

"I slept with my best friend's fiance. And then she found out about, and now the two have broken up. In other words, I managed to ruin my friend's entire life within the duration of a single night, all while going about and doing what I normally do. I am a horrible person, you think?"

"It's my job to help you get past these feelings, not to grind them in until you can't seperate them from your skin," Dr. Thompson replied.

"Then you agree," Emma said, a low chuckle scaping from her lips. "I did a horrible thing, and now I should be paying for it. Oh, yes."

"That's precisely the opposite of what I'm trying to say," Dr. Thompson said. "I want you to move past these ill feelings and get yourself to a better place in your mind. That is why I'm here. I'm here to help you."

"You're here to get money for helping me," Emma corrected. "I don't want you to keep lying to me, pretending like you actually give a damn about a single thing going on in my life."