I returned back to the clinic as I was faced with Dr.Romero, who told me to take a seat inside the room as always. I went in and sat in the large brown leather couch.

A few minutes later, Professor Ibrahim Yilmaz took a seat next to me. His chestnut hair was sticking up in every direction as he pushed and pulled at it. Under his left eye sat a faded purple bruise that I just noticed.

I moved a couple of inches away from him as I sat on the opposite side of the couch. He didn't say anything about it as silence filled the room. When he first entered there was a stunned expression on his face, but he quickly masked it and sat down.

Why was Prof. Yilmaz in the room ? Was Dr Romero going to tell him about my dream... my eyes widening in horror. What had I done? Why did I tell her ? she wouldn't, would she?

I entered the room at 3:30, and it was now 3:34. The past four minutes had felt like hours, not just for me, I think. We both sat, quietly, not saying a word to the other, waiting for what was about to happen. As the door was suddenly thrown open, both our heads sprang up and to the right.

The women entering the room gave us a polite smile as she walked to the chair across from where we were sitting.

"Good afternoon," She said in a soft, kind voice.

Neither Professor nor I said anything in return.

"I know you must be shocked about being in a joint therapy session," She continued. "But I think it will be beneficial for both of you," She ended her speech.

Was Professor. Yilmaz having dreams about me too? Just the idea of this made my face flash red. He wouldn't, of course he wouldn't...

"So Mrs Muhammad, we will start with you ?" She said.

"Ms," Professor. Yilmaz whispered under his breath.

"I'm sorry?" Dr Romero asked.

Professor Yilmaz looked up at her momentarily then lowered his head back down to his hands. "She is a widow," Professor Yilmaz muttered again as I shifted uncomfortably beside him.

Dr Romero didn't look anything like our dean,her mother. She was relatively tiny, maybe 5 feet 6 inches, and slim. Long, straight, and coffee-coloured hair that fell below her arms and big black eyes. She certainly didn't look older than forty. Her office was pale beige with brown furnishings. The walls were bare, and the only item sitting atop the coffee table between her chair and the Professor and mine was a Kleenex box and two glasses of water.

"So let's get started, shall we? How did you two end up in the same car?" She asked. Her voice was soft and monotonous, and when she was once again met with silence, she cleared her throat and tried again.

"Alright. I'm going, to be frank with the two of you if that's alright."

My head slowly lifted to look at her. When she didn't say anything further, I turned to look at the Professor who didn't seem to be flustered by any of this, it was like a chess game that he knew how to end in one single move. We both turned toward Dr Romero.

"I know about both of your situations. I have done individual sessions which informed me well about both of you. You don't need to explain any specifics, but you must know that I'm here because your stories don't match and the police investigation had taken Prof. Yilmaz's story instead of yours because of your memory. We wouldn't be able to move past these events until we do these sessions to clear the air."

Silence.

"The simplest assistance I could give you is to inform you both that I wouldn't say anything to the other person until you have approved it first," Dr Romero said after a moment.

Should I tell her now that I don't approve of her saying anything !! But wouldn't it be suspicious?

"Shall we start," She asked again as I looked at Professor. Yilmaz who nodded in agreement, "let's get this over with," He seemed to be forced to be here as he said it in a lifeless tone.

"So, When you got into the car?" She said signalling for one of us to take the narrative and continue, but it would be a cold day in Jahanam (Hell) before I start first since the only thing I remember was him driving us straight into the cliff so he should start.

After Prof. Yilmaz noticed that I wouldn't start, he started first.

"Well," The Professor starts, "I remember I was angry about her laughing when I told her about my sister overdosing. Therefore I got mad and sped, and the accident happened," He says simply, "End of the story," He finishes.

As he recaps the event, I noticed something from his story that I didn't comprehend before, something I think only I got but Dr Romero didn't. Prof Yilmaz doesn't get angry but rages out on the person in front of him, and then he comes to a fateful decision that may cause harm to the other person but not him. He is too self involve to notice anyone but himself.

Just like the exam, when they accused him of not teaching it, he lashed out and told us to explain it to ourself. There was only one rational conclusion, he is lying, and he is covering something up.

Dr Romero nodded but didn't say a word. Dr Romero seemed disconcerted as she tried to compel her next question.

"So the accident, Ibrahim, what happened after that accident ?"

"We were both unconscious in the car when I saw a man dragging Ms.Muhammad out of the car and then I was dragged out, I thought at; first, he was the paramedics, but he didn't dress like one, so I just thought he was helping us out, but he didn't just drag us, he moved us to a hospital and that was where we were for 21 days" He finishes.

I try hard to remember the man, but I don't even remember, and his story doesn't seem to ring a bell. "Could you explain it further so maybe the confusion in the events would be cleared ?" She asked.

Prof Yilmaz nodded and consciously rubbed his chest, the therapist didn't get the other clue, but I did, which triggered something in me. In the dream, I observed a weird-looking birthmark on his chest that was covered by a ominous looking tattoo of ink.

If I got to inspect under his shirt, I would know if my dream was a dream or a memory since I couldn't dream of something I never saw and I never saw the Professor nacked or did I ?!

This was too confusing for my head, and the therapist had told me that Post-traumatic amnesia is a state of confusion. However, this was occupying too much of my headspace to be confusion or a false memory.

"skittles, Do you have skittles? " I snap back to reality as I look at the Professor when he says those words, from all the candy that he could say.

He stated my father's nickname to me, nobody knew it but him and I. He, on the other hand, said it so randomly that it made me suspicious.

I then remember the dream of my father being in the hospital room with me. I was getting too confused, and breath seemed to be a task that I couldn't perform, so I stood from where I sat.

I needed to clear the air, I need to find out the truth, so I spilt the cold water that was placed on the table in front of me toward the Professor, who was in the midst of a discussion that I didn't concentrate on.

They both gasped at first and then looked at me with confusion filling Dr.Romero's face. "WAHAJ," Dr.Romero puffed.

"It's fine," He spoke as he quickly unconsciously stood up and tried to remove the shirt for a quick second. However, when he noticed that I was looking and recognised that I did it purposefully, he recovered and sat with his wet shirt.

For a quick second, I was able to see the Dark ink that was formed just bellow his chest, I didn't know if it matched my memory, but I was sure now that it wasn't a dream.

Dr. Romero suggested to the professor, "There is a bathroom at the end of the hall," He thanked her with a nod and left the room without any glance or another word to me.

"I need to leave," I stated as the professor left the room. "I am sorry," I look at Dr Romero.

"Wahaj, WAIT?!" Dr Romero said as she ran after me, but I exited the room faster than she could.

Salam Guys,

Did you get the clues ?

Whoop whoop, we reached 840 reads!!

Thank you sooo much for reading, voting and commenting.