“I’m Erin Thom,” she said, smiling. She was about my height with long dark hair, faint Asian features, and I swore she couldn’t be that much older than me.
This was supposed to be my therapist? What was she? Twenty-one? Twenty-two?
No, she had to be older, right?
After shaking my hand, she ushered me into her pleasant little office with its all of one room. While she had a notepad next to her, the pen lay capped and on top of it while she focused on me.
“I’ve never done this before,” I admitted.
“That’s what you said on the phone,” Erin told me, her tone patient and easy. “That’s perfectly fine. Why don’t you tell me a little about yourself?”
“I’m…I’m seventeen. I’m a senior in high school.”
That was probably not what she meant, right?
“I’m—um…” I curled my fingers into my palms again. “I don’t really know how to do this. My friend Coop, he’s easy to talk to about things, and he wants to do what you’re doing, but this is weird.”
“I understand. What I hear you saying is you’re not comfortable discussing personal things with someone you’ve just met.”
“No, I’m not,” I agreed readily, and looked at my hands. “It’s more than that though. I was raised to believe we handled our own problems and that…” Fuck, consider the source, I told myself. “Maddy always said Curtises don’t do therapy.”
I winced.
“That sounds kind of insulting. Sorry.” Licking my lips, I flexed my fingers. “A few weeks ago, I was holding that line firm, even when the school advocate was offering to talk, and yeah, I probably needed to talk to someone, but not her. She’s…too close. She’s right there at the school. Knows the people.”
“Understandable, you want privacy because you’re not comfortable discussing any of these topics in the first place, much less with someone who might have a more personal tie.”
I nodded. “A little bit like that, yeah. I don’t…” I shifted and pulled my legs up to sit cross legged before I gave into the urge and got up to pace. The longer I sat here in this serene, peaceful room with Erin’s kind eyes on me, the more restless I became. “This is so messy, and I don’t know how to explain this to myself, much less to anyone else.”
“I hear you,” she told me, and not once did she flinch from meeting my gaze, even when I kept pulling mine away. “Would it be easier for you if I ask questions?”
“Maybe.” The truth was I didn’t want to talk about any of it.
“Okay, let’s start with something simple then. Tell me what you hope to get from coming to see me.”
“Peace of mind?” That was more of a question than an answer. “Something…a lot of somethings have been going on, but…I was drugged at Homecoming, and I don’t remember parts of that evening, like…how I got this.” I motioned to the cast on my right arm. “I know my friends…they saved me. They stopped the guy, and I know who, and considering the battery of tests I had to do afterward when I woke up at the hospital…well, I know what he wanted to do.”
A slick of ice seemed to race over my skin.
“He didn’t. I mean, that’s one upside. At least that’s what they could tell from the tests they did. There was a really nice woman—Denitra. She was my SAFE advocate.”
Erin nodded.
“I had some bruises, the broken wrist…some bruised ribs. And the guys took me home afterward, and they’ve all stayed with me. I haven’t been alone, and that’s a good thing. But I have nightmares most nights that wake me up, and it’s hard on them. I know they remember—I can see it in their eyes. But I don’t, and there’s this hole where something bad happened, and even though it could have been worse, it’s…like I want to fill in all the blanks with the worst thoughts and ideas.” I tried to laugh, but it came off hollow even to my own ears. “I should mention I’m absolutely terrible about horror movies. Can’t sleep for days after watching one.”
“It sounds like you have a vivid imagination.”
“Sometimes.” I licked my lips again, desperately wishing I’d brought something in with me.
“Would you like some water?” Erin motioned to a small mini fridge. “I’ve got some bottled water.”
My stomach did a flip-flop. “That was where the drug was. In a bottle of water.”
“Okay. Doesn’t change my question, unless bottles bother you. In which case, we can grab some empty plastic cups and step into my private bathroom there and you can fill it with water from the sink.”
“That probably comes across paranoid, doesn’t it?”
“Not at all. It comes across as healthy caution and wariness after your trust has already been abused. I’m assuming the person who gave you the water bottle is someone you trusted.”