Breach Detected

“WARNING: Breach detected. It is recommended that you reset your password to avoid further damage.”

Eyebrows furrowed, lips pursed, she let out a deep sigh.

Not again, she thought to herself desperately as she heard the words echo in her mind.

“WARNING: Breach detected. Repair defenses to prevent extreme damage.”

“Yeah, yeah,” she said aloud, clenching her fist as she fought the urge to slam it against the wall.

“WARNING: Breach detected. Your identity is at risk. Reset your password-”

“I HEARD YOU,” she screamed, clutching her head tightly as the voice grew louder. “SHUT UP. I GET IT.”

Leaning against the wall, she pulled her phone from her pocket and typed a simple message:

[I need to reset.]

Sinking to her knees, she fought the guilt and self-hatred that began to creep up. Her throat began to close, and she forced herself to take deep breaths as she waited for the inevitible response.

[I’ve got an opening this afternoon. See you soon.]

She fought the sob that began to break from her chest, forcing herself to her feet as she grabbed her keys and walked out the door.

You should have known better.

The thoughts swirled in her mind, threatening to suffocate her like they always did.

The same old mistake. You’ll never learn, will you? Did you even try this time?

“Of course I did!” she yelled to the road, tears blurring her vision. “I always try. And it always means nothing!”

Her fists met the steering wheel as the trees passed her by, almost mocking her pathetic failure.

We were right here two years ago, weren’t we? Did we learn anything? Change anything?

“No.” The word faded quickly into the air, disappearing with the scene outside of the car. “Same mistake as always.”

Her whisper was paired with silent tears escaping despite her furious blinks.

“I just want to be better.”

The familiar parking lot came into view, bringing dread and relief all at once as she parked and slammed the door in frustration. It was too easy at this point, to hate herself for failing.

“Welcome back,” the doctor said as she entered the room, motioning to take a seat. “I was wondering when I would see you again.”

Letting her head hang as she clenched her fists, she finally let the sobs that had been fighting to escape out.

“I was hoping I’d never be back,” she cried, clutching her hands to her chest as the pain became sharper. “Why am I like this? No one else I know has to do this so often.”

“On the contrary,” the doctor said, scribbling a few notes on her pad. “Most people should do this at least yearly. But they choose not to. They opt to wait until a breach happens, and even then, they choose to ignore it. I’m glad you came in today.”

“I want to be better.”

“You are,” the older woman replied, keen eyes making her feel exposed. “You’ve learned, you’ve grown. Two years ago you would have waited at least another week before you contacted me. Let me guess, the breach just happened?”

At her hesitant nod, the doctor smiled gently.

“I’m proud of you,” she continued quietly. “Breaches will always happen eventually. It’s impossible to build an impenetrable defense. It’s a reality of life. But what’s important is that we build systems to counter when the breach happens. You jumped into action this time. You’re mitigating the damage already.”

The words sank into her skin, quickly becoming a weight in her stomach as she shook her head.

“No,” she said, pounding her fist on the armrest. “I should be stronger.”

“You’re already stronger than before.” The words brought no comfort. “You know what happened. You probably already know what you need to do to keep going. I’m simply here to help you through the process.”

Closing her eyes, she took a shuddering breath as the familiar sensation washed over her.

“Reseting will take time,” the doctor’s gentle voice reminded. “But you and I both know it’s worth it. And the first step is-”

“Not blaming myself,” she finished, nodding reluctantly.

“You suffer because you feel.” An understatement, in her opinion. “That is not a flaw, or something you should be ashamed of. You trust, you love, you hope, and that makes you stronger than you realize. This is not your fault.”

“It’s the fault of those who take advantage of the privilege awarded them.”

The words felt foreign and natural all at once, having heard them so many times. But they didn’t feel any more true than they had before.

“We let people in for a reason,” the doctor continued. “If they betray our trust or prove themselves unworthy of that chance, it isn’t our fault for believing in them. You deserve to love and to be loved just as much as you want to give both. Are you ready to begin?”

Opening her eyes, she forced herself to swallow around the lump in her throat and took a deep, shuddering breath.

“Yes.”

“ALERT: Reset in progress.”