A few hours before

Dr. Fonseca stares at me for a second. “You know we only have a couple of sessions left? We made some great progress but there are still things you’re holding out on me. We should deal with them before the sessions end.”

“What else is there to talk about?”

“We’ll get to that. I just want to know how things are going right now. How’s the friendship with Freyja going?

“I’m not following.” I haven’t told her the reason why I started to talk to her. I think if I would she would tell me I was in the wrong.

“Well it’s been a bit more than a month, do you think Freyja is a friend you like in your life?”

“Yeah, of course. She’s a great girl who I’m able to relax with.” Dr. Fonseca would probably tell me I can’t help someone through depression when I’m stuck there too. But I’m not, I haven’t been for more than a month now. I’m in a good place right now and I don’t think nothing can stop that.

“That’s good. Virginia, she uh told me that you stopped taking your medication. Why is that?”

“I don’t need them anymore. I’m completely happy without them now so I don’t need to be drugged up.” I think back to a conversation I had with Freyja about this. She believes in medicine but does not believe in drugs to be a cure for everything. She says that people will find the smallest of pains just for a pill. I don’t think she’s wrong.

“You know that’s not what it's about,” she says writing something on her Ipad. “She also said you’ve been doing much, much better and supports you not taking the pills.”

“See?”

“Hmm. Sara can I be frank with you?”

“Yeah.”

Dr. Fonseca lays down her Ipad on her lap and crosses her legs. “I don’t think you’re well just yet. You’re suppressing memories that you don’t want to accept. It’s not you either, it’s your brother as well.”

“What? You can’t know that” I call her bluff, but why would she bluff?

“I want you to say it in your words, not mine. How did your mom die? Your brother and father are the only people that know, isn’t it? I know what happened, but please Sara, can you tell me?”

For a second I’m taken to the past to experience the pain and confusion again. It’s a trigger and one that’s too easy to pull. I only have two sessions left with Dr. Fonseca after this so I guess it’s time. I fucking hate talking about it let alone thinking about it. I open my eyes and speak.

“My mom committed suicide when I was just eight. I was the one who found her dead in the bathtub. I found it weird that she was taking a really long shower. She had her wrists cut open and the tub was completely red.” My voice is monotone. I don’t want to have emotion reliving all of this.

“What did you do after you found her?”

“I ran to dad, I knew he would know what to do.”

“How fast this did happen?”

“A few seconds.”

“Sara, is that it?”

“Yes.” My hands are firsts pressing hard down on my knees. I really wish it was my father that died instead of my mom.

“Thank you for sharing that with me, Sara. I know it was hard to say so you’re really strong for that.”

I get a sense that, that wasn’t what Dr. Fonseca wanted. I look away as she gives me a few seconds to calm down. I know that I need to let these memories get out in the open but they aren’t suppressed so I don’t know what she wants. With this, I’ve told almost everything about my life to Fonseca.

“Sara, I would like to try something. I am sure you heard of hypnosis. It’s a great tool for you confront things you otherwise couldn’t. It’s called hypnotherapy and it’s where you are placed in a calm but high concentration state of mind. I won’t make to dance or cluck like a chicken, it doesn’t really work like that.”

“Uh, okay? What for?”

“I want you to remember your mother’s suicide more clearly. I promise you will be relaxed the entire time and it will not be painful to remember. Would you like to try it?”

“Yeah, sure.”

“In order for this to work, I want you to have complete trust in me. This is a team effort and I need to you not freak out or get scared about putting you under.”

“Okay,” I smile. I’m not sure why.

“I want you to lie down on the couch you’re sitting on,” Fonseca pauses until I do so and all I can think is how cliche this is. “Please choose a spot on the ceiling and I want you to focus on that spot and that spot only. As I count down from 400, allow yourself to become increasingly relaxed and calm as you stare at your spot. Four hundred. 399, 398, 397, 396, 395,” Fonseca continues counting down. I get excited thinking about how I’ll be in a trance once she gets to zero. I need to relax though and this spot in the ceiling I have chosen isn’t special, but it’s my spot. “Soon your eyes will become heavy from looking at that spot. 299, 298, 297.” Sure enough, they do after a bit more time passes and I slow down my breathing. It feels like she’s messaging me with just her words. “Your eyes will want to close. 251, 250. And the world soon becomes quiet and you get comfortable.” I feel like I haven’t slept in hours and my eyes just want to get some rest. Any outside thought disappears and I only concentrate on my spot. I can barely hear Fonseca countdown. “I will give you suggestions about feeling comfortable and even more comfortable. You are relaxed and once you are I will stop counting and make other suggestions that are in your very best interests. 178, 177.”

I think of nothing.

“Think about the happiest moment you had this year.”

Last week when I was with Freyja when we met Emmah together. That was a night where I couldn’t stop smiling.

“Think about the people who make you happy.”

Freyja, Andrew, Grace, Isaac, and Virginia. These are the most important people in my life right now.

“Who makes you the happiest?”

Right now? It’s “Freyja. I think I love her.”

“Okay Sara, I want you to continue to stare at your spot. You are the most relaxed and comfortable you have ever been. As you continue to be like this, think about the absolute most painful memory you have and please tell me.”

I can still think. I’m not really hypnotized like I thought I would be but I can actually think about it without getting angry or sad. There are plenty of painful memories. There’s the abuse I suffered from Lyle and the rapes from my father. There’s even the pain from living itself but nothing of compares to the pain of losing my mother, but that isn’t why it hurts so bad. I understand what Dr. Fonseca means now.

“I found my mom bleeding out, not dead. She was still alive when I found her and she was crying that I found her. I could still see clear water when I found her. I could have saved my mother’s life if I wanted to, but I didn’t. I let her die and that is my sin I couldn’t live with.”

“Did she say anything to you?”

“No. She didn’t even apologize. She was just crying.”

“Why did you let her die?”

I get it. I’m twisted. I have been living a lie. “My mother was not the angel I thought she was. I made that up because if I said my mother was the most caring person in the world then maybe I could live with myself. Mom liked to make fun of me and Andrew. They were cruel and mean words. She would often not feed us because we acted badly. Mom liked to beat Andrew for getting bad grades. She liked to beat me every time I lost to him. My mom was a drug addict who was addicted to heroin. I didn’t know what it was at the time, but now I do. My mom was mean and cruel to me, so I let her die. Now I only see that she was just as depressed as I was and was just trying to find a way to be happy.”

“Is this the most painful memory you have?”

“Yes.”

“Sara, you can look away from your spot now.”

I look down and slowly the world starts to get a bit louder and my eyes adjust to seeing things other than white. I still feel calm and comfortable even though I remember everything now. It’s fucked up that I even tried to hide from this.

“Please continue with your medication, I feel you will need it soon. As for what you told me, that a was suppressed memory that your mind hid from you in order to protect you because you were so young. Not that you’re older it's best to deal with these emotions properly now.”

“Okay,” Is all I can say to her.

I go home still feeling calm and relaxed until I lay down in my bed. It slowly goes away while I start to cry. It’s made even weirder because I’m quiet and don’t feel it so I’m crying while I lay there thinking.

Somewhere along the night, I start to practice my guitar. Somewhere along that same night I feel back to normal and the sadness creeps in. Somewhere along that night Freyja asks to come over and I tell her no. I look outside and see that it’s raining so I let the sound come in. A few minutes later I hear a doorbell and then Virginia knocks on my door. “Sara, a friend is here to see you. She’s soaking wet, wanna go get her before she ruins my carpet?”

It’s Freyja. I want to get excited but I just can't. It seems learning about what I did has made me numb to emotions for the moment; all of them save for sadness. Freyja takes her time to change from her wet clothes in the bathroom. During this time the sadness becomes stronger as the reality of what I did finally start to set in.

Freyja follows behind me as I lead her to my room. She takes her time to observe while I close the window to drown out the rain. “What were you doing?” she asks.

“Practicing,” I tell her as I walk over to my bed.

“Practicing what?”

I point over to my guitar and pick it up as I tell her I’ve been practicing a lot. After Emmah’s concert there was a spark inside me that wanted me to pursue music. Just playing the sounds lets out emotions that I never knew I could express by words. I think this what ultimately music allows. This is the philosophy Emmah Melody Ryan follows and one that I am learning. The sadness starts to seep out of my body as I play for Freyja. I don’t look at her and I don’t open my eyes so I can focus everything I have on this one song I wrote. Playing it puts me at peace and allows me to feel something other than sadness. Regret and hate come in. It breaks me out of this apathetic state I was in and the happiness of Freyja being here finally creep in.

I told her not to come, so why is she here?

“Sara?” she asks. It’s only then that I become aware of how close she is. I can smell her pheromones or perfume. Whatever it is, it’s faint and intoxicating. Freyja smiles as she spends time looking at each of my eyes. I can’t help but do the same.

“Why are you here?” I ask her.

“I don’t know,” she says.

She’s being odd today like she’s scared of something. It’s why she’s here probably. Something happened and she needs my help. Freyja gets up and paces back and forth. “Are you okay?”

“Maybe,” she laughs nervously.

I set down my guitar and stand up to face Freyja. “Fey, you’re acting weird are you sure you’re okay?”

“I made up my mind,” she stops pacing. “It hurts that I’m here because I made up my mind,” Freyja takes enough steps to come face to face.

She decided to go back to her faith. This is why she’s here. Freyja doesn’t want to be my friend anymore, she can’t. Her faith does not allow for to be friends with the greatest sin. I’ve feared this way would come and it only makes today even shittier. My heart becomes frail and frozen, ready enough for Fey to break it. “Okay, I get it. I’m sorry.”

Freyja gets confused and giggles, “No silly.” Her smile puts my heart to ease. Things become clear when Fey takes hold of my hand. It is then when Fey forsakes her God and I feel her heart rest at ease. In this second the sadness disappears and all is right.

“You…”

Fey doesn’t let me finish as her free hand feels my cheeks with the back of her hand and then kisses me. I'm stunned for a half second before I grab hold of her waist and kiss her back. “This is how I want things,” Fey gasps.

I pull back to let myself breathe Freyja stands there completely red. This is new to me too. I’ve kissed girls before and I’ve kissed Fey before but this is new. Life feels so complete now. “Fey, you…”

“I know,” she laughs. “I want to try this.”

This is what she has chosen. This is where fate has brought us. Everything that has happened led us here. Our friendship has been short but not meaningless. I never meant to have these emotions towards her and I’m sure she did not want them either. Yet I hope it doesn’t matter because Fey has become this light in the darkness I learned to live in.

Freyja pushes me to my bed and gets on top of me. I feel hopeless and in love as Fey lets everything she kept inside, out. There’s this notion that you shouldn’t say ‘I love you’ too soon. But if the feeling is there, then why shouldn’t I be able to say it? I want to tell her.

“I think I love you, Sara.”