And She Wasn't The Same.

What if there were no consequences ? What if nothing blew up ? What if..... What if....

Filled with questions and memories, Anna lived. She had to. I could see her. Those pupils conveyed anguish to me. It had been there all your life, caught in the uncertainty we all bear. I could also see love—the affection she would have shown if the wounds weren't there. I really wish she could open her heart and tell me about it.

Anna lost her parents in a car accident, she wanted to go for vacations as her parents had always been busy with work. therefore; they decided to go to her grandparents house. But life never really goes according to plan does it? The road may be present, wide open and secure one moment, and the next, there may or may not be deafening sounds, pungent odors, and agony. A car crash is shocking, and movies and books don't do justice in conveying that. It is a type of mental blindness that is comparable to gazing without seeing. Anna was too stunned to speak or move, she saw her parents while being half unconscious. In that moment she knew we were saying goodbye.. Anna fixed her eyes on her parents, as both were soaked in their blood. When love is ripped apart, that expression that she had seen so frequently at the hospital began to take shape on her face. she brushed her hair back while feeling the coldness of her flesh as it fell over her face. She was seated in a pool of cold blood, embracing their corpse as though they were still alive. She tried opening their eyes, nothing. She shouted close to their ears, nothing. She took their hands and it dropped squarely with gravity. She beamed just a moment before her respiration started to rattle loudly, before she fainted.

Being Anna's therapist has been a hard job. I was more of her friend. If I had to describe her state when she first came in here, her face was emotionless but her heart wanted to tear every single road that lead to it, her eyes wanted to erase the fact that the roads were filled with oil and blood and her parents were covered in it, her hands wanted to rip her own throat at the thought of only her surviving. Anger was nothing more than a pain-shield, like a trapped soldier tossing grenades at random while running for his life and feeling alone and hopeless; blaming herself.

" I returned to the scene of the incident. In order to convince myself that I could choose to move on, I wanted to remove the influence of the hurtful recollection from my life." Anna explained while her voice cracking.

" But, I COULDN'T." She continued.

I could see that she was one blow away from a mental breakdown that only she could've gotten out of. Memories hugged her like a teddy bear whenever she started to talk about it. I know, she could even visualize it.

" Anna, you can come out of your shell, it's a safe place, I want you to know that it's okay to feel. we'll get better. " I claimed.

The misshape left invisible scars. She wasn't the same. Wasn't herself. Even the gentlest contact can reveal the scars that emotional anguish leaves behind. Sometimes, like with a cyst, the "wound" needs to be exposed in order to be cured; other times, a kind person might try to treat something that ought to be left untreated. Isn't it better to trust in the natural healing process if it can be disregarded and a regular, joyful life resumed?