I walked into my room, Margo sat on my bed as I entered, groaning, “Adrianna Elaine Cassian.” She stands, “Where the hell have you been?” I roll my eyes as she follows me into my bathroom.
“I’ve been out.”
Margo runs up in front of me, “Please take your pills at least.”
She hands them to me as I look at her. I take them, swallowing. “Margo,
I can go to my appointment by myself.”
“Nonsense.” She exclaims. “You are out of your damn mind.” “I don’t want to take up your day.”
She quickly changes as she looks at me, “You are my favorite part of my days.”
I couldn’y help but smile, she had the talent of making me feel special when I shouldn’t be.
“I love you.” She sighs.
I smile back, “I love you too.” “I’m worried about you.”
“You shouldn’t be, I’m okay.”
Was I about to tell Margo that I have intentional cuts on my hips, I’ve been taking my drugs again, and that I’ve started to throw up after my meals?
No. It would break her, more than it has broken me. Margo is my best friend. She is my safe haven.
“I just hope you know what you’re doing.” She comments as I swallow.
I don’t “I do.”
I seem to have forgotten that the idea of Grayson and I being more than what we were was insane. I was doomed and he is meant for another woman.
He was doing this for August, yet I still made the bad decision of being his new conquest.
I wasn’t sure that I wanted to stop, but I was prepared to get hurt. I knew I would the moment I saw him.
It was his specialty.
I finished my shower, finding a pair of jeans, my Louis Vuitton heels, and a Chanel crop top. Margo was styling a cute pink Prada dress. “I’ll be done soon,” I mutter, Margo sighs.
It happens every other Saturday morning. I get up, go to therapy. Go to a doctor that thinks they can fix me, that thinks that what I’m dealing with isn’t valid enough to be serious.
They were shitty doctors.
My dad claims he’s hired the best of the best, but sometimes the best of the best don’t do any work but tend to take credit for healed patients.
It was the new doctors that excelled in the department.
 |
“How are you feeling?” My therapist, Martia, looked amused as I smiled back, trying to contain myself from shaking as Margo held my hand.
“I’ve been great.” I say plainly as she writes things down on her clipboard.
She looks back up, “I’m going to have Margo sit outside for this portion of the appointment.”
I look at Margo who grins sheepishly, kissing me on the forehead before leaving, “I’ll be in the car.”
I nod, my attention returning to my therapist. “Adrianna, have you been self-harming again?” She asked me as I nodded. I couldn’t say it out loud.
I pull down my jeans a bit for her to view my cuts, “And what else?” She looks up with a sympathetic face, I couldn’t seem to look at her,
because if I did, I feel as though I would’ve spilled everything, and I’d be forced into a mental institution.
The worst part is that it would probably be funded by my father. I didn’t want anyone to know what I was going through. If it was up to me, Margo wouldn’t know.
But she was the one who found my body when I overdosed.
“I know I’m going to end up doing it when I fight hard not to bleed onto the ground or stick my fingers down my throat.” I say plainly.
“And are you proud of that?”
I looked down, “I don’t want to die anymore.” I smile.
I had mentioned last session that I wanted nothing more than to die. Maybe this time she won’t be up my ass about it, this time around.
She smiles warmly, “I’m so happy to hear that.” But then pauses, “Have you been staying away from stressful situations?”
Absolutely not.
“Yes, I have learned it is not good for me.”
No one really knew about my stance on mental health or any of my crazy abusive thoughts to myself. They said therapy would help so I had to take it.
Deep down, I didn’t really want to get better. I only wanted to do it for my father, but he had barely known about self-harming or my eating disorder.
I know people say, “Do it for yourself.”
But I hate myself. I don’t plan on saving myself.
It was messed up, but after I was done helping Grayson I was planning to leave for good.
And I wasn’t planning on telling anybody about it, especially Margo. No, I’m not being selfish, I think about it in a way that I don’t want her to think much about me anymore.
She cares so much, and it would kill her to find out what I still do to myself.
“I’ve noticed that your phone has been beeping for the past thirty minutes.” She looked over, unsure if I was going to answer her.
“Yes, I’ve been getting involved in a relationship.”
I swallow, thinking maybe that I said the wrong thing.
“I don’t think that you are in a good state of being in a relationship.” Her eyes sank to mine like she was antagonizing me.
“It’s not serious.” I quickly said while gripping my sweater.
“Adrianna, you have to be honest with yourself… and make sure you are taking care of yourself.”
“I am. I think that this relationship is distracting me from all those thoughts. It helps me.”
I felt like this conversation was dragging on and I wasn’t in the mood for more conversations.
“Whether you believe it or not Adrianna, I want you to be happy. I want you to prosper and live a great life. If I didn’t, I wouldn’t have sat here for the past year.”
I hadn’t really cared much for therapy. I didn’t think it helped. I believed that she was a money sucking machine, a lot of employees in Hawthorne are, they know that people here are willing to pay so much fucking money for whatever.
“Tell you what, I want you to go out with your friends tonight, with people you find peace with and make you feel you are safe.”
I roll my eyes. If she asks me to go shopping, then that is my therapy. “It must be something that you don’t normally do.”
Great, I can just go shopping and tell her I knitted or something. “I already told Margo to fix something up for you guys to enjoy.”
I narrowed my eyes, “She told you about my new relationship, didn’t she?” I stood up, looking at the clock, it was almost time to go.
“She mentioned it.”
I laugh, a bit irritated, “I don’t think that it was necessary for you to have gone to Margo. A truthful relationship between a therapist and their patient is important. I suggest you consider that if you want my father to continue paying for these sessions.”
I grabbed my bag, walking out of the room, rage filled my body as I looked over to the door to the parking lot. Weirdly, Grayson’s mother was outside at the garden, pruning some shrubs or even planting even more.
Before I could hide, she spotted me smiling. I would look like a coward if I didn’t walk up to her now, but would she judge me when she sees me walking out of a therapist’s office?
Grayson simply could not find out.
“Adrianna, my dear!” She walks up to me, hugging me like I was a teddy bear. I let out a breath as she grins brightly.
The hug felt nice, “What are you doing here?” She mutters looking back to the office.
I frown, “I go to therapy here.” There was no way to sugar coat it. I look at the beautiful garden, “What are you up to?”
I bend down to look at the flowers sprouting in front of the grass. I always loved flowers around me, especially tulips.
Flowers were special, each one had a special meaning, whether bad or good, they were all beautiful in their own way.
“I come here to volunteer and help troubled families on the other side of the building. I’m building this garden because the children love to play here.”
I smile down at the garden, “You’ve done a wonderful job. It looks beautiful.”
She places her hand on my shoulder, “You can help out if you want. You must be busy, so you don’t have to if you don’t want to.”
I get up, “Nonsense, I would love to help out. It’s never a problem to help out families in need.”
I never really thought about the other side of the building. I was ignorant in thinking it would be just more doctors that don’t know shit. “I would love to see you here on Tuesdays?” She grins profusely, I had also never imagined Mrs. Prince to be a great woman.
Many framed her to be a stuck-up rich mother like the rest in Hawthorne, but she was more than that, she had a beautiful heart. I had never really wondered about my mother. I knew she left and that was really all the information I needed.
If you can’t stay for your child, you don’t deserve your child.
But I had pondered my whole life, what had I done to make my mother leave without a trace.
I mean, those were the days that I don’t remember but I’ve seen photographs of my father smiling. It was rare to see. I wish I remembered the life I had before my mother left.
Maybe I would’ve turned out differently. Maybe she would help me through my fucked-up decisions or yell at me when I wasn’t thinking straight. She would sit with me, and I would lay on her lap as she caresses my hair telling me that it wasn’t my fault.
But there was a certain age that I stopped thinking about what could’ve been, I realized it would just make me sadder because it was never real.
She was gone and I had to navigate my own way and grow up by myself. God forbid my father would inconvenience himself to teach me how to use a tampon or pad.
I was nine years old when my father hired someone to teach me.
Unfortunately, he hired a man who would touch me inappropriately. I didn’t tell anyone.
I requested to take self-defense classes and earned a black belt in karate, ultimately breaking the man’s arm the next time he touched my ass.
Then I told my father, who went off the rails and got the guy arrested. He said he would never forgive himself for letting it happen. And I believed him. I shouldn’t have believed him. Because he made broken promises.
It’s hard to think good things about my father when we were so disconnected from each other. I was a fool for always making up excuses.
“I’ll be here.” I smiled at her, “But I have to go, I’ll stop by later and drop off food,” Grayson’s mother looked delighted like she was blessed with a paid nose job. She bends down to pick up a tulip, it was red.
She handed it over to me, “You are extraordinary.”
I smile, taking the flower, “Thank you.” I look over to the doorway, where Margo had been standing. I turn around to walk to Margo, looking back to see Grayson’s mother get back to gardening.
I smile, “How was the session?” Margo probes. I roll my eyes, “Same as always.”
“What’s with the flower?”
“Apparently, I’m extraordinary.” I take a sniff at the flower, “I think I love the red.”
I make a note as Margo pauses, “Red compliments you.” “I think so too.” I lick my lips, “Why do you think that is?”
“Red is the color for passion and courage. You are the bravest person I know.”
I wasn’t brave.
I looked at Margo with admiration. She started the car; I took one closer look at the flower.
Red tulips… beautiful and extraordinary.
Margo frowns at me before driving, she takes the flower and places it in the crevice of my ear, “You’re beautiful Anna. Even if the world was blind, they would still be impressed because you are extraordinary.”
Margo was lying. I was a joke. Then, I understood why red suited me better than white.
I was a tainted spirit.
