Therapy

Theresa Hochstine

September 2021

Therapy-Final

I remember, it was a crisp autumn day. October third. I was sitting on our front porch, swaying back and forth in the rocker and as the cold breeze kissed my cheek, I felt a moment of peace. But of course, Damien whips open the door.

“Get in the fucking house!” he screeched. That day would haunt me for the rest of my life. “Is there something you actually want me to help with or do you just want me in there so you can bitch at me more about how I’m doing everything wrong?” I snapped back. The constant criticism and belittlement I had to endure to keep this relationship going had finally tap danced on my last nerve. “Seriously, I’m tired of this shit. If I don’t help, you bitch. If I help, I’m doing it wrong, and you bitch. Then if I ask you to explain how you want something done, you laugh at me, call me an idiot, and honestly, I really do not want to deal with this shit anymore.” Damien tilted his head and raised his eyebrow. He opened his mouth with a gasp, but no words came out. He paused for just a second, as if to gather his thoughts.

“Baby, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to take my anger out on you.” and then immediately followed up with, “You know I love you; work has just been kicking my ass lately and this damn apartment is falling apart. Our landlord is too fucking lazy to fix anything. I’m just really pissed right now.”

“Okay Damien, I get that. I really do but it’s not like you ever try to talk to me about this shit. I ask you all the time to tell me what’s up. I always ask if you want to talk about it. I have done everything I can think of to get you to open up to me and share yourself with me, but you always refuse! I cannot help or even provide comfort if I have no fucking clue that you’re even upset! I need you to communicate with me or I’m out!” It was always that same excuse. God. I was sick of hearing it. I held this man’s head over toilet bowls when he partied too hard. I was there on his birthday when my (his) family forgot to even call him. I held him when he cried and let him be the little spoon even when I wanted that spot, but he never held me. He never comforted me. When I needed him, he would always abandon me. I gave him all I could and by the time I had realized how much of myself I had given to him it was too late. I rolled my eyes and let out a sigh. He offered me his hand and I took it. I knew it was a bad idea, but I let him kiss me. He led me into our cozy two room apartment then down the hall into our bedroom.

“Do you love me?” he asked.

“Of course, I do but -” he kissed me mid-sentence and we didn’t stop.

I remember feeling his sweat dripping onto my body. He bit my ear and whispered he loved me as when he wrapped his arm around my waist and thrust deeper inside me. My body trembled and for a moment, I felt frozen as if I had sealed my fate. But still, I pushed him off me and climbed on top

of him; and when I felt slide back inside me, I lost control. He was like a drug to me, and I could not quit. I was damn near doing somersaults on this man's dick. It was the most erotic moment of my entire life. I can still smell his Old Spice cologne and taste the Strawberry Moscato on his lips.

Not a day goes by where I don’t miss him. I remember my legs started to shake. It felt like they were going to collapse. But when he climaxed inside me, I had never felt so powerful. I felt like a Goddess. I hate to admit, but I got a taste of control, and it became an unquenchable thirst. Fast forward a week to October Ninth. Damien had promised to take me to Pumpkinville in Great Valley. We lived in Westfield about an hour and a half away. Damien always took his sweet time doing anything, but I was excited! Autumn is my favorite time of year; the colors are vibrant and beautiful. They remind me that change can be a good thing. “Damien baby, are you just about ready?” I shouted to him from the kitchen.

“Jesus fucking Christ! Will you stop nagging me already?”

He screamed at me as he rushed into the kitchen. His face was red, his eyes were threatening; I could feel them sear my flesh, consuming me within the flames of my own private Hell. His body was shaking with rage, and my knees buckled. I could see the tears welling up in my eyes. My lip quivered yet; my body relaxed. My thirst for control began to take over. But then, I opened my eyes to have them meet with his fist. I pulled myself off the floor with the help of the table that stood near me. A silver twinkle caught my eye, I quickly snatched the shiny object from the table as he grabbed me by the hair and dragged me back into the bedroom. I knew he was going for our role-playing handcuffs so he could restrain me. As he pulled me through the doorway, I kicked off of the wall and he lost his balance. I ran towards him and drove the scissors right into that bastard's Adams apple and sliced his throat open. And I didn’t stop there. As he lay there bleeding out, I plunged that knife into his chest nearly 20 times with tears pouring down my face. I could hardly see what I was doing.

“Ahhhhhhh!” I screamed. “Fuck you, I fucking hate you!”

My arms became worn and I dropped the knife as I sank to my knees beside my lifeless lover. I lay beside him and tucked my knees into my chest. I screamed and began ripping at my hair. After two hours sitting by Damiens side. I crawled up the stairs to the master bathroom. My body plastered with the blood of my lover and my body trembling. I was weak. I slowly made my way to the jacuzzi tub which I used to pull myself to my feet. I twisted the faucet to the hottest setting and as the tub began to fill the room became consumed by a warm fog. I grabbed the Lavender Essentials oils and epsom salts from the edge of the tub and poured them in. I grabbed baking soda from the cabinet underneath the sink and measured out a teaspoon, then added it to the water.

My legs twitched as I struggled to get out of my jeans and my arms folded as I tried to get out of my sweatshirt. I unclipped my bra and dropped it to the floor. I closed my eyes and took a deep breath as I re-opened them, then dropped my panties to the floor and stepped into the boiling water.

After about 20-minute soaking in the tub and washing the blood and guilt from my skin. I got out of the tub, wrapped myself in a towel and headed down the hall to my bedroom. I dressed myself in a plain gray nightshirt and a pair of pink fuzzy socks then climbed into bed and closed my eyes. The next morning, I woke up to my alarm clock blaring. I had forgotten it was Monday, and I had to go to work. There was this pounding drumming through my head, and I studied the room in a moment of confusion. For a moment, I couldn’t remember the events that had taken place the night before. I wobble out of bed and stammer into the kitchen. As I make my way to my Keurig,

I piece together the puzzle of the incidents of the night before. The sound of the Keurig whirring seemed like nails on a chalkboard to me and I winced in pain. I grab my Scooby-Doo coffee mug and take a seat at the kitchen table. With each sip I take, I relive Damien’s murder. Finally, I remember. He’s gone and he’s not coming back. When suddenly, I hear his footsteps creeping up the basement stairs. I ignored the sound and told myself it wasn’t possible. That it was just some mice that got in. The door peered open and Damien stepped out from the shadows.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” I blurted out in shock.

“Um, I live here dummy. Are you feeling, okay?” he said with a smirk. “May I join you for coffee?” he asked. I raised my eyebrow and tilted my head. I was in shock! I just killed this man last night and yet; there he was sitting beside me at our table sipping on his Yoda coffee mug. “How much do you remember about last night?” I told him everything. I recalled the incident in explicit detail to him, he listened attentively while continuing to sip at his coffee periodically. When I finished explaining what I had remembered about what happened, his face went pale, and I swear I heard his heart pause at that moment. I see swarms of tears rushing to his eyes and he tries to speak but his voice breaks, and he can’t get anything out. And then he screams. I had never heard such a horrifying sound before. It was as if all the voices of the damned cried out in voice. My throat ran dry, and my heart sank. I looked back at Damien; he had thrown himself to the floor, his face buried in his lap and his fingers with a tight grip on his hair.

“Please no. Damien, please tell me that’s what happened. Please!” I panicked. “Please tell me, I’m right. Please say that’s what happened, and we just got lucky and have been given another chance to fix things!” My thoughts were zipping through my head, and I couldn’t catch up. What have I done? What was the missing piece of the puzzle?” Finally, Damien looks up at me.

“I wasn’t home last night.” he stated with absolute certainty. “I got stuck working a double shift. We were planning to take shrooms and watch Alice in Wonderland last night, but I ended up getting stuck. Do you remember that?” he asked.

“No. No, you came home around 5 and then we started fighting around 9.” I stated. “You you came home last night. I know you did. I had to open the door for you. You forgot your key.” I remembered seeing his face. There was no way I was wrong. I tried to reassure myself it was all just a dream.

“No baby.” he said with tears still rushing down his cheeks. “You took the shrooms alone and started freaking out. Remember?” he questioned. “Honey, you called me at work, freaking out because you had a panic attack. You were freaking out because you ate the shrooms and you were alone, and it scared you.” he continued. “I couldn’t leave work, but I didn’t want you to be alone, so I called Dante.”

“No, Dante didn’t come over. It was you. You came home!” I howled.

“I have the text messages from Dante saying he got here, and that the two of you were fine.

He said you were starting to relax, and everything was fine. Look, read these.” he demanded.

I scrolled down through the messages. My hands were shaking as I held the phone in my hand. Then I read ‘Bro, I might call the cops your chick is going fucking crazy. Dude, she thinks I’m you and she keeps talking about how you’re going to end up killing her. I think she needs therapy.”

The phone shattered when I dropped it on the floor. I shivered as a chill trickled down my spine. I turned and darted down the stairs into the basement and turned on the lights. There he was. Dante lies there with a gash in his throat, and his face down drinking from a puddle of his own blood. I was struck with a bolt of grief. I had taken away my beloved twin brother, all because I was tripping on shrooms. Like, what the fuck is wrong with me? I threw myself a little pitiful party but then quickly decided the world would probably be a better place without me in it. So, I grabbed the box cutter from Damien’s toolbox and just before I drove that razor down my wrist, Damien grabbed my hand and stopped me. He wraps his arms around me and kisses my forehead.

“You killed Dante.” He said to me, and I was paralyzed. “I love you so much but I don’t know how to handle this. I want to hurt you right now.” and I flinched. “Shrooms can make you see some terrifying shit. I don’t know what you saw but clearly it scared the shit out of you, and you need help.”

“What do you mean I need help?” I asked. I lifted my head and backed away a bit. “Baby, you murdered someone we both love because of whatever it was you saw. Whatever it is that’s scaring you is turning you into a monster. You need to talk to someone!” he said. He didn’t break eye contact once and I absorbed his anguish. I shuddered and let out a shivering breath. I buried my face in his chest and wept. I kept my eyes closed; I just couldn’t bear to look at him.

“I should have known better than to do that kind of stuff alone, huh?” I remarked. “I mean, that was a really stupid fucking thing to do. I need to be in prison, what I just did is awful. It’s beyond awful, it’s nightmarish and it scares me. Please just let them lock me up. I will plead guilty. I deserve what punishment I get.”

“Listen, you didn’t know what you were doing. You shouldn’t have even had access to those while I wasn’t home. I knew you’ve never done them before, and I had no idea how you would react.?” He spoke.

“I shouldn’t need a fucking babysitter!” I screamed.

“Babe, this is not a normal life situation. Everyone needs a sober friend if they’re going to experiment with a new drug.” he calmly replied.

“Damien, open your fucking eyes! I had a friend.” I pointed out. “Your brother! Now look he’s fucking dead. Gee, your buddy system for drug use is so enlightening.” I said with a scowl. “I’m way past helping at this point buddy, and it would appear you are as well.” “What the fuck is that supposed to mean?” he asked.

“Damien, I sliced your brother’s throat open and stabbed him 17 times.” I admitted. “Yes, I

may have been tripping out of my mind, but I still murdered someone.”

“I stand by what I said, you’re sick and you need help and I still love you.” he said We shared a moment of silence and I studied his features. His facial expression was blank, his eyes fixated on mine. ‘Why isn’t he more upset?’ I thought to myself. ‘It doesn’t make sense. What if he really does kill me now.’ My mind raced and my heartbeat could be heard by Damien across the table.

“Relax.” he spoke to me in a hushed tone. “It’s okay now. They’re here for you. I heard the van pull up.” he said. My heart raced and I began to sweat.

“Who’s here for me?” I asked with a high-pitched squeal.

“You’ll see.” Those were the last words I heard and then everything went black. It was cold and silent.

When I woke up. I was completely naked and being carried through the woods lying on a beige seat’. I was floating above a sea of men in black robes wearing pentagrams. Whispers began to grow. A song? A poem? No, a chant. I cringed.

“Hanc Tibi offer Imus, ut pareret tuum.” It began as a soft flutter of voices, like the wings of a butterfly but quickly rose to the roars of thunderous mountains. And I’m wet. Why am I wet? I wave my hand across my body. It’s sticky and gooey. I have no idea what this stuff is, but I like it. It’s got a harsh, burning sensation and it’s extremely salty. Then it dawned on me, like a switch had been found in my brain, I was covered in semen. And They were offering my body to Satan as a vessel to bear his child. This was a cult determined to summon the Antichrist. ‘Hanc tibi offerimus, ut pareret tuum means we offer her to you, so that she may bear your child. It’s Latin. I studied Latin at Erie Community College. I don’t believe in God or Satan but when I felt the warm glow of the fire caress my skin, I felt a twinge of fear for an immortal soul I never believed in.

“Hanc tibi offerimus, ut pareret tuum. Hanc tibi offerimus, ut pareret tuum. Hanc tibi offerimus, ut pareret tuum” their tormenting call to their Dark Lord was being drilled into my skull. I glanced up and before the Throne of Evil, stood a familiar face. My jaw dropped and my heart felt cold and lifeless.

“Damien. What the fuck is going on?” I said as my voice began to break.

“I really do love you but, sacrificing you means creating a better world for people like me. You see, I drugged you and seduced you. I injected you with a dissociative drug that allowed me to, I guess you could say, hypnotize you. I put you under a trance and commanded you to kill Dante. I engineered this whole thing and I have deceived the greatest and purest love of my life and forced her to commit one of the ultimate sins. I know I will be rewarded for my deeds in His Unholy Name.”

“You’re fucking crazy” I muttered as I hung my head in disbelief. “So, what are you going to do to Damien? Kill me?”

“Of course not!” he replied. “You must be alive when he exits the birth canal, once He is born, He himself will devour you while you’re still alive so that He may gain strength to lead us into the future.”

“Absolutely fucking not!” I shouted and rolled off of the setae’ into the river of psychotic Satan worshiping men. Damien grabbed me by the arm to stop me from getting away but I pulled back my arm and dropped him with a hard right hook, and I ran.

In the darkness and misty covered ground, I bolted through the trees. Thorns from wild rose bushes and branches from damaged trees tore at my legs. The blood trickled down to my ankles but still I ran.

After running for about 3 miles, I came across a white house with yellow trimmings and I rushed to the door, pounding on it and screaming like a banshee.

“Help me! Please! Open the door! They’re going to come for me! Call the police in a hurry!” The light flickered on and an enchanting girl with green eyes and auburn hair came to my aid. She opened the door, grabbed me by the arm, and pulled me to safety.

“My name is Amelia; I’m going to help you.” and she hands me her iPhone X. I dialed 911 and we stepped into her home where she poured me a glass of water and handed me a thick wool blanket. I spoke with the operator as Amelia sits beside and places her arm across my back.

“The Police are on their way. Stay where you are and wait for them.” the operator explains. We sat for all of eight minutes before we saw the red, white, and blue flashing lights peek into the window and we rushed to my feet and stepped towards the door cautiously. We search the surrounding area then step out onto the porch to wait for the officers. Then, Amelia is hit in the face with a bag of sand by an unfamiliar face and a hand reaches around, covers my mouth and pulls me off of the porch. With his empty hand, he snatches me by the hair and begins to drag me back through the horrid woods.

We came to an area of the woods which formed a circle. It was as if someone had cut the brush intentionally to appear as they did. Damien releases my hair, and I fall to the dew sprinkled grass. Hesitantly, I lifted my head and glanced up at him.

“You have got to be fucking kidding me!” I said exasperated.

“You can’t escape me that easily,” he teased. At that moment the sound of a shotgun rang in my ear. A 12 gauge. I remembered learning to shoot them with my dad. I looked up at Damien once more. His eyes had glazed over, a single tear escaped from his eye as he flopped to the ground. A gaping hole in the center of his chest was thrashing out pools of blood. He lifted his pentagram to his lips and left a small kiss. His final words were haunting. As he gasped for air; he let out one last breath, “I will come back to you.” Those chilling words followed me everywhere.

Standing behind my deranged boyfriend was a Police Officer, holding a 12 gauge shot gun with smoke seeping from its barrel. The officer held me close and assisted me while walking back to the house. Amelia sat in the ambulance being treated for a concussion, I walked up and hugged her.

“I am so sorry, but thank you for helping me.” I said. She smiled. When we arrived at the hospital for treatment, we requested to stay together. Our wish was granted and we were introduced to Dr. Annette Rhinestein.

“Do you want your friend to step out of the room, or are you okay?” asked the doctor. Amelia grabbed my hand, we nodded at each other and I gave my reply.

“She stays.” I answered and the doctor began my exam. I remember this burning sensation as if someone had doused my tampons in bengay.

Two hours later, we were both released from the hospital and had become the best of friends.

By November 23rd, I had finally gotten back into the habit of normal living. I had just left work and was anxiously awaiting my doctor’s return to the exam room. Dr. Rhinestein had performed my rape kit the night of my rescue and she was an absolute comfort. Her presence was calming to me. She helped me to silence my thoughts so that I can focus on finding the men who tortured me. I was happy to see her again until I saw the troubled look that rested upon her face.

“I have some troubling news for you Miss Barnes, and I know you have already suffered so much but you have a very important decision that needs to be made in a timely manner.” her stern voice shattered my spirits.

“No.” I said in a whisper. I grazed my stomach with my hand. My lips puckered and my eyes swelled.

“No!” I screamed. “I don’t even want to hear the words! Get it out of me!”

“Are you sure that’s what you want”? she asked, and without hesitation I responded. “Absolutely. I can’t do it. Please just get it out.” I pleaded. She grimaced and raised her eyebrow. She studied me, from head to toe reading me. A moment of silence had fallen between us, as if to already mourn the life I was about to end.

“The receptionist outside will set you up with an appointment for the procedure.” she said with a sigh of disappointment. At that moment I had already begun to doubt my decision. However, I made the appointment and I followed through with it.

As the months grew colder, so did I, and by the time the last of the Autumn leaves fell and the first snow had fallen, ice had already encased my heart. My eyes became blank spaces. My face showed no emotion. That Christmas began a month-long cycle of absolutely nothing, and I mean nothing. I stayed in my bed, huddled into a ball underneath the comforter. I ate only to keep myself

conscious. My skin became brittle ivory. My chestnut brown hair with ocean-like waves had become a series of fire-engine red strings. My finger and toenails had overgrown. From the wooden floorboards to the cigarette–stained ceiling stood mountains of trash and furniture; my apartment had become a den of hellish nightmares. Picture frames and mirrors shattered all throughout the apartment. Damien had been the only family I really had. I sat in the bathtub, the shower head raining arctic waters upon my skin. I sat there in a pair of black sweatpants and a red sweatshirt. Crouched down with my face buried into my hands sobbing. Then I heard the doorbell ring. My head jolted up and I bolted out of the shower. I quickly stripped out of my wet clothes, dried my body and hurriedly changed into a pair of gray sweatpants and a blue sweatshirt. I peeked out through the window to make sure it was the person I had been expecting. As I opened the door, a cold rush of air flew in, as did a warm burst of light. I quickly slammed the door shut once she entered. Amelia. My Savior.

“I’m here for you now. It’s going to be okay.” she exclaims as she wraps her arms around me. Attached at the hip she leads me into the living room and sits me down on the couch. She sets down the tray of hot chocolate she brought from Tim Hortons on the glass coffee table parallel to the couch.

“I think it’s best if we get you out of the house for a few hours. I’ve already called the cleaning crew. They’ll be here at noon. While they take care of this mess, I’m going to take you to the Christmas Carnival at the Park.” She smiled at me and handed me one of the drinks.

“Amelia. I’m really not sure that I’m ready for that. I’m not sure it’s a good idea for me to socialize again yet.” I explained.

“Nonsense. Come on! I’ll help get you cleaned up.” She said with a burst of forced excitement. She pulled out a shopping bag filled with clothes, makeup, and an assortment of other accessories and led me back into the bathroom. She did my hair and makeup then dressed me in a pair of Levi jeans, black thigh-high boots, and a Scooby-Doo themed “ugly-Christmas

sweater.” I had no real idea what I looked like because I had already broken every mirror in my place but reluctantly, I followed her out the door and got into her orange Subaru Forester. The heated seats filled me with comfort and for the first time in months I felt warmth. She turned out “wannabe” by the Spice Girls and I was able to sneak a smile. When we arrived at the mall, I paused and stared into the distance as I emerged from the vehicle. I heard a child’s laughter and a silent tear fell from my eye.

We browsed Forever 21 and skipped through Lush. We danced our way through the entire mall and just before we left, we stopped in the center of the mall where the Christmas carnival was commencing. A magnificent 20-foot Tree made its home in the center of the carnival. The carolers’ voices echoed through my brain. The little ones frolicked, and decorated cookies, then hopped over to the art and crafts where they turned lightbulbs into snowmen. A sight I can only describe as the 8th world wonder. The joy that flooded their little red faces. The excitement burst like fireworks in their eyes. It was the most beautiful thing I had ever seen until I looked under the tree. A sweet boy, maybe 5 years old. His blonde hair being lit an assorted color each second by the flashing and constantly changing light that hung from the tree. I approached the sweet boy with caution so as not to scare him off. When I had caught his eye, I bowed and nodded my head.

“Hey. Sweetheart, what's your name?” I inquired.

“D-Damien. My name is Damien.” he responded with a sniffle. “I can’t find my mommy. She told me to meet her under the big Tree if I got lost but she’s not here yet!” “Hey there. Sweetie, it’s okay. It’s going to be okay.” I assured him. He looked up at me, his eyes pleading for guidance. “Would you like some help trying to find your mama?” I offered. “Okay. I’ll go ask that securit- , you know? I’ll take you. Let’s find your mama champ.” The sweet thing jumped for joy and paraded around the entire mall with me. I really was intending to return him to his mom but we could not find her.

“Sweetie, we have been all over this mall. Are you sure you didn’t see your mama anywhere?

“Maybe, she left without me.” His eyes began to water again, and I could feel a tremble vibrating through my stone heart.

“No honey, I’m sure that’s not true. Come on, we’ll go over to the service desk. I’m sure they’ll be able to help us out. How does that sound?” I offered him a smile and reached out my hand.

“Okay, sounds good.” he smiled back and placed his hand in mine. I led him over to the customer service station and I explained the situation to the security officer. He paged for the boy’s mother over the loudspeaker.

“Mrs. Chelsea Steadmouth. Please report to the courtesy desk. I repeat Chelsea Steadmouth to the courtesy desk. We found your son and he is ready to go home with you.” “See buddy, I told you he’d help us out.” I said with reassurance. Twenty minutes had passed, and we still sat there. Waiting.

“So, tell me kiddo, did you get to see Santa?” I asked, trying to keep him calm. “I sure did. He said I was a good boy all year!” he exclaimed, nearly jumping out of his seat. “I’m sure you were. What do you want him to bring you this year?” I continued. “I want a big

fire truck with working lights and a siren. A blue power ranger. An easy bake oven, a puppy, and for my mom to sign me up for dance classes.” he said. The sheer joy that was glistening in his eyes made me feel something I had forgotten. Love.

“What kind of dance do you want to take?” I asked.

“Ballet. I like watching figure skaters too but I’m not big enough for those classes.” he crossed his arms and shrugged his shoulders. The pouty look on his face made me melt. This sweet child was so precious to me already.

“Well, I bet you are going to make an awesome dancer.” I replied. Another twenty minutes had flown by, and it was nearly Six O'clock. Then I remembered. Amelia. I reached into my back pocket, and I had half a dozen missed calls from her. I must have forgotten to turn the ringer on. I called her back.

“Hey Amelia, I’m sorry I got caught up helping an old friend’s son look for her and I had my ringer off.” I explained.

“That’s no problem! Are you ready to take off?” she asked.

“Yes! I’ll meet you near the Christmas carnival.” I told her. Damien and I headed back towards the carnival together, continuing our conversation.

“So, what do you want to be when you grow up?” I asked.

“I want to be a Broadway Star!” he shouted and threw his hands in the air. “A Broadway Star!” I giggled. “Now, that sounds exciting!” As we approached the carnival, I heard a desperate, aching cry.

“Damien!” His mother stood there with tears in her eyes. Damien ran and jumped into his mother’s arms.

“Mommy! I found you!” he exclaimed.

“You sure did, baby! I am so proud of you! Mama was so scared!” he told him, her face still dripping with tears. My throat burned, and my body ached. Tears were once again welling up in my eyes but this time there was no sadness. Only rage. My palms began to sweat, and my legs started to shake. Voices murmured in the background and my head went fuzzy. I could feel as my blood pressure spiked, and my heart began to race. My face is shimmering red underneath the Christmas lights. Then a phantom like and villainous voice whispered in my ear.

“He’s yours.” it cried. “He’s not hers. He is your little baby. Don’t you remember?” “Damien, who’s your friend?” Chelsea asked.

“Oh! Mama. This is Ms. Barnes. She helped me look everywhere for you!” he explained. “Thank you, Ms. Barnes.” she said. I tried to bite my tongue, but the words slipped out. “Why didn’t you come to the courtesy desk when we called you? You left this poor child

alone for hours!” I screamed. “What is wrong with you? Don’t you understand what could happen to him? Or are you just that fucking stupid?” Her skin went pale. She stood there in shock; she was ghost-like and then silence. My mind went blank. The world grew dark and cold, and the crowded life-filled mall became a cemetery of shadows. I couldn’t hear, I couldn’t speak. I gasped for a breath of air.

“You don’t deserve him, you selfish bitch!” I continued to abuse her with harsh words. It was like a sickness. The words continued to pour from my mouth like vomit. Each time I opened

my mouth, I inflicted more pain. I grabbed little Damien by the arm, threw him over my shoulder and started running. I trucked through the crowds and out the doors.

“It’s okay Damien. Mamas got you!” I spoke. “Mamas got you, I’ll keep you safe forever, pumpkin. Nobody will ever take you away from me again and I will never let you go again. Not this time. I won’t lose you again!” I had let my child down once and I did not intend to do so again.

“Ms. Barnes! You’re scaring me!” he shouted but I wouldn't listen. I ran until we came to the door of my apartment. I unlocked the door, rushed us both into the apartment and locked all the doors and windows. I closed the curtains and the blinds then sat Damien on the couch.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you, angel. Wanna watch some cartoons?” he nodded yes.

“Ms. Barnes, are you okay?” he asked. “Ms. Barnes? Call me mama, sweet boy. I’m going to take care of you from now on. Would you like some snacks?” Once again, he nodded his head yes. “Okay baby doll, what can mama make for you?”

“Do we have mac-and-cheese mama?” he asked. He tried to keep eye contact, but I could feel the fear radiating off him. He twiddled his thumbs and bit his lip. Still, I paid no mind until I heard a thundering knock at the door.

“Police! Open up Ms. Barnes!” they demanded. “We know you have Damien. We understand you feel like you need to protect him, but this is not the way to do it.” “He’s MINE!!” I screeched. “You can’t have him, he's mine!”

Then, for just a second, a window of clarity opened, and I looked over at this terrified child; my heart shattered.

“Damien. Come here honey.” I said to him softly. He cautiously inched his way towards me. I kneeled on the floor beside him and placed my hands gently atop his shoulders. “Damien, you are a sweet, beautiful boy. I am so sorry for what I’ve done.” I hugged him, kissed his cheek, and pushed him out the door. I grabbed a knife from the kitchen counter, and I held it tightly to my wrist.

“Baby, what are you doing?” Amelia burst into the door, tears dripping from her chin. “I’m fixing the problem.” I said calmly as I power-drove the knife across my wrist. The blood swam from my body so quickly and I could feel the icy breath of death breathing down my neck. “I’m sorry Amelia.” I said as I lay there bleeding.

“Veronica!” Amelia’s cries were the last sound I heard. She made a tourniquet from her blouse and tried to stop the bleeding. Her pleading eyes haunted me.

“You’re my best friend, and I love you. Please fight this. I’ll get you all the help you need! Please don’t leave me alone again.” she cried. Amelia was able to stop the bleeding, and the Doctors were able to clamp my artery shut and stitch me up. The hospital treated my wounds and sought out to find me the help that I desperately needed. I survived yet another nightmare but this time I was not alone. We come in here, we swap stories, we laugh and cry, and we carry on. I served my time and conquered most of my demons. As wondrous as it sounds, it is not as it seems. For demons are both born and forged, who knows when the next will strike? Never fear my friends, for that is why we’re here. To push through together, what we cannot fight alone. Ah. Therapy.