″I brought you some clothes so you don’t have to go back to your place,” Paddy says. He hands me a duffle bag.
I take it and nod, turning to leave so I can return to my dinner before it gets cold when I hear Paddy and Griffin whispering behind me.
I turn to see if I can catch an idea for the type of conversation they’re having, when my eyes land on Paddy, his hand against Griffin’s face. Griff tilts his head down, trying to ignore the impact of Paddy’s touch, but I can’t. Paddy’s soft and pleading with his eyes. And then Paddy’s lips brush against Griffin’s temple.
Oh, fuck!
I’m intruding on a tender moment, so I scamper up the steps before they notice.
I pick at the lint on my jeans while I sit in the office of Dr. Amanda Ricci. She specializes in childhood trauma and PTSD, which is perfect for my fucked up life. The baggage I carry is enough to fill the cargo space of an entire Greyhound bus.
I clear my throat as she offers me a smile. What are we even supposed to discuss for an entire fucking hour?
″Have you been to therapy before?” She asks, crossing her long legs. She wears a pencil skirt and square glasses.
Why did I decide I needed this?
″First time,” I say.
″And why did you decide to come? What’s been going on?”
I let out a puff of air. “I think the better question is what hasn’t been going on?”
She offers me a polite smile. “I know that the first meeting can be a bit overwhelming. Should we start with why you feel you need the sessions?”
I shrug, biting my lips. “Well, I’ve always dealt with panic attacks. I usually self-cope, and they’ve never hindered me the way they have lately. Something triggered me and I switched from pushing through them to turning to alcohol to numb the pain. It isn’t healthy. And…” I inhale.
″I was mugged,” I lie. “I was sober, so I was able to fight the person off. But I realized if I had been drinking, that may not have been the case. It really freaked me out. Made me realize that I need to get a handle on things.”
″Do you consider yourself an alcoholic?”
I squirm in my seat. “I use hard liquor to hide from my trauma. But I also can have a glass of wine with dinner and be fine. I don’t… I don’t know that I am.
″Because it doesn’t affect my work. It doesn’t affect anything other than making me forget. And the next day, I get up and I go through life. I push through the panic attacks at work. But when I’m home? When I’m alone and the pain becomes too much, I get out of control. I drink until I can sleep without the monsters haunting me.”
″What monsters do you mean, Haley?”
″My twin sister dying. I don’t think I was ever able to cope with that properly. And then there’s the fact my stepfather molested me. No one believed me, which resulted in being sixteen and homeless.”
Dr. Ricci’s eyes widen as she scribbles her notes about me. “Okay. We have a lot to go off here,” she murmurs.
We spend the next hour discussing what brings on my triggers and how to react to them. Avoiding alcohol completely, she says. Not even a sip of all the beautiful wine Andi’s gifted me. And I feel my soul leaving my body. But I will do the homework needed to get better.
She also prescribes benzodiazepine for my panic attacks and an anti-depressant to help pull me from the fog. Dr. Ricci thinks that my exercise and diet are great for helping and that most likely a trigger pushed me to have them more now. She thinks with time we can minimize the attacks, and maybe even stop the medications completely, or rarely. Though that is wishful thinking.
Step one, no alcohol, which is depressing in itself. But I need to get over this bullshit. I don’t think I can properly be with Callum right now, not when I have so much work to do to find myself.
I need to learn who I really am. Deep down, all I’ve ever been since I lived on the streets was a trauma ridden girl. I poured my heart and soul into my studies, advancing my career as quickly as I could. Then, I pushed myself into the military and gave all I had to saving lives.
But why did I do it? Why did I put my own life on the line to save others?
Who the fuck am I other than a lost girl trying to find her identity after losing her twin. Sarah was my soul, and without her, I never figured out what I am.
I need to grieve her, I need to move on from the things Jason did to me, and I need to figure out where Callum fits into it all later. For the first time ever, I’m putting myself first.
Chapter thirty-six
AknockatGriffin’sdoor pulls me from my book, and I stand to answer it. Griff spent the night out last night, leaving me alone, and I suspected it was to stay with Murphy. They haven’t admitted that they’re together or anything, though.