A Visit from Scarlet

For someone who has been called “the most indecisive person” by almost all who are close to me, I have always been set on becoming a therapist. Sure enough, it has turned out to be the most rewarding decision of my life. Every day I sit with new people from all walks of life, none of which are like the last, and hear entire life stories from the original source. I get to witness first-hand how their mind works, how they think and form thoughts, and how they communicate those thoughts to me. Though I love it dearly, it’s unfortunately not all rainbows and butterflies. It can be quite taxing to hear of all the troubles people face each day, and it takes years of training and mental exercise to leave those thoughts at work, so it doesn’t affect your own life and happiness. That being said, there are some stories that are just too sad, that are just too depressing, that no matter how much training you have, you can’t seem to forget. For me, I will never forget the story of Scarlet.

It had been a rather slow day at work, which ironically is what I pray for. I had already seen four clients and had one more scheduled before I went home. Her name was Scarlet, and it was my first-time meeting with her. When she came into my office, I was immediately surprised. I am not certain what I was expecting, but whatever I had in mind was way off. I have had thousands of people come into my office over the years, but Scarlet was by far the most unique. Her hair, which looked like it was once rich and vibrant with many colors, was dry and dull. Though sad, this isn’t abnormal, for mental health is closely correlated with physical health, so a decrease in one will decrease the other. I picked up my jaw and stood to greet her, introducing myself like I do with all my clients. I try my best to make everyone feel comfortable so they can relax and feel able to talk freely. Scarlet was tense, her body scrunched up like she was constantly protecting herself. Her shoulders were hunched while her head never tilted above eye-level. She was a tight rubber band that looked like it was ready to snap at any moment. It was obvious she had experienced a great deal of trauma and needed to release it.

It took time and effort to get her to relax. I shared with Scarlet my life story and how I ended up there. I shared all my own personal struggles that ultimately inspired me to help others. While some might find it conceited of me to share my story during someone else’s therapy session, I think it's extremely important to create a trusting relationship with the client, especially on the first visit. How could they feel comfortable enough to share their deepest thoughts with a stranger they met only minutes ago? I wouldn’t trust a stranger either, that is why I find it crucial to get rid of that stranger immediately. As it had with almost all my clients, this strategy of trust worked especially well with Scarlet. The more I shared my own thoughts and experiences, the more she became comfortable. It was almost as if she had been around strangers her whole life, and she finally met a friend. Friends are people you can trust and talk to, and that is exactly what she did.

My counseling sessions usually last an hour, or a little over an hour if it is their first time. Scarlet and I talked for hours on end. While everyone had been leaving the office for the night, I had been making a new pot of coffee. I didn’t care about going home, I didn’t even think about it. I was too engrossed in her story. A story that was filled with nothing but sadness yet told in such a captivating manner. Though the content was depressing and caused a plethora of tears, we still found ourselves occasionally smiling and laughing as we talked.

Scarlet was once free. She once explored the beautiful earth, her head always up, looking at the sky, soaking in the warm sunlight, feeling the wind on her face. Her hair was vibrant in color. She was gorgeous, so pretty that others felt the need to have her. So, they took her. She was ripped from her family against her will, put in a crate and shipped away to some foreign land. She had heard nightmares about this happening to others, but never thought it could happen to her. She was so free in the world that it seemed as if freedom was all there was, and suddenly that freedom would turn into nothing but a memory. She feared for her life, for the life of her family. She had no idea what had happened to them, or what would happen to her. She thought that those were the final moments of her life, that death was looming around the corner with its scythe, but she was wrong.

Scarlet was held prisoner by her captors, kept in tiny cells while being fed minimal amounts of gross food. One day, a group of people came and surrounded her cell. Her captor shared made-up information about her while they examined up and down. It was at that moment that everything became clear about her situation. The sheer evil made her sick to her stomach. It was worse than she originally thought, for death’s scythe seemed far more desirable. Sure enough, the people started bidding on her, and she was put in a crate and taken by the largest wallet.

This, unfortunately, would be but the first of many auctions that she would be a part of. Scarlet described the many different owners that bought and took her, the different environments she was victim to. While most were cruel and showed no emotion for her, there were a select few that were much more desirable than the rest. These few would feed her with delicious food until her stomach was full and her heart content. They would provide cells with ten times the room and freedom as others, allowing her to stretch, move about, and exercise her body and mind. These owners are sadly a minority, and most captives are held by people far worse. Scarlet talked about meeting others of her kind while being passed around, others who have been stripped of their right to freedom and forced to a life of pain and depression. Most of which were even more unfortunate, having been stuck with a terrible owner who would starve and abuse them. She would weep at how sickly and malnourished they look, how all signs and colors of life had been drained from their appearance.

Something ate at my curiosity, so much so that I couldn’t help but to ask her. I asked her how she escaped this nightmare, how she fled her captor and ended up at my office. She informed me that she hadn’t escaped, that she was still a prisoner to a very easy-going owner, one of the best owners she has ever had. He was the one that brought her there and was waiting just outside to take her home. Though her current owner treated her better than any owner before, she overheard his plan to sell her within the year. She was terrified. She knew she had the best possible owner for her situation, any other owner was certain to be a downgrade. She started to cry when she thought about how big of a downgrade it could be.

Even more confused, I asked how he allowed her to do this, how he allowed her to come and talk to me. Scarlet told me about how she refused to eat after she found out about her future sale. This wasn’t because she felt too nervous to eat, this was because she knew her worth. She knew her current owner paid top dollar for her because she was in better shape (more beautiful) than the others, so she knew her owner would want to sell her for top dollar. She thought that if she starved herself and ruined her physique, no one would want to buy her for his asking price, and she would remain in her current home.

Her owner was upset that she wasn’t eating, not necessarily because he cared for her health, but because he could see the dollar bills vanishing before his eyes. Unaware that Scarlet overheard his plan to sell, and unaware of her intention to sabotage it, he was confused and wanted it fixed. He seemed to be part human, for he was able to see that she had gone through a tremendous amount of trauma and hoped that a simple visit to a counselor would help Scarlet feel better and eat again. He liked this idea, it made him seem caring because he was paying for her to get help, yet it was all with the intention to sell her for a higher price. The more she ate, the more money he made.

It all began to make sense to me, and I was petrified. Hearing such a cruel and agonizing story, and not only finding out that it was still going on, but also that I had become a character in it. I remember my heart pounding. One of the many villains in her story was just outside my office, waiting to take her back in hopes that I “fixed her” so he may sell her for a premium, and she would continue to live a nightmare. I knew I had to do something to help her. I could tell that just those few hours of listening and talking with her helped significantly. You could see her experience a glimpse of freedom, a glimpse of happiness. I swear that I started to see some of her color come back already, but I wanted it to be permanent. People come to my office to be freed, so I had to free her. I went over to the window and opened it, demanding she sneak away for good. Her body yearned for fresh air, but something held her back. I reassured her that everything will be okay, that she had my word. It was then that all her color rushed back to her. Vibrant, rich shades of red, yellow, and blue. She stretched out her luscious, soft wings with a sense of urgency and happiness. At once, she flew out of the window and into the night sky. She was free.

I can only hope and pray I did the right thing to help Scarlet, after all, it was the first time I have ever been visited by a parrot.