Short Stories

#RebelQueens - Never Alone

Prompt: lyrical inspiration - Haunted by Evanescence

#RebelCreations  

Word count: 1314

"I've found another gift today." Is the first thing coming out of my mouth before I even make myself comfortable on the little sofa. I like Michelle's room. It's cozy and I feel always welcome here.

"Hello to you too Amanda," she replies, giving me a knowing look. She can read me like a book.

Every time he contacts me or sends me something I must talk to her as soon as possible. I even forget to say hi. I go right to the point. But that doesn't mean I have to be rude, right?
"Hi, Michelle, sorry about that."

"That's okay. Tell me what happened," she urges.

"He sent me this dress, and don't get me wrong, any other time I would love it. The dress is so me. The perfect color, the perfect cut, the perfect size, but-" I sigh and look out of the window, almost expecting to see his face. Only I don't really know how his face looks like so I wouldn't know anyway.

"But what?" Michelle brings me back out of my musing.

"There was a note, as usual. For you with love. I can't wait to see you wear it." I know it by heart, I've read it like a hundred times and still, when I say it out loud it makes me shiver.

"What do you mean as usual?" she asks as if this was some kind of a new thing.

I fish through my bag and hand her the piece of paper. "Here, read it yourself. He started to add those a few weeks back. I thought I told you about that."

"I must have forgotten. Does it always say a similar thing or do the notes differ?" she asks as she studies the writing in her hand. As if she could find out who wrote it by staring at it.

"They are different every time, it depends on what he leaves for me," I admit. It's kinda embarrassing, so I don't want to look at her. Instead, I study the pattern of the covering of the sofa. It's quite nice.

"You know what?" she asks and I can see in my peripheral vision she puts the note on the table next to her chair. "Let's talk it through from the beginning. Just so we are sure I have all the facts." She's now focused fully on me.

I wish I had another note to distract her. I thought I am up for this conversation but now I am not so sure. I mean it's one thing to talk about the dress which I actually like, and another to talk about all the stuff he does or did.

"Tell me about the first time you felt something is off," she probs. It makes me squirm in my seat. "It's okay, take your time. Just close your eyes and try to go to the time you were little. The first memory you can find. Imagine a timeline and just move along it."

I try my best. I close my eyes and think. First memory, huh? In the movies, the very first memory is often a smiley face of someone's mom, a birthday cake, spilled milk- something poetic. Not me though, the first memory I can find is me being in the hospital, having a doctor sticking some rubber tube in my throat. Not a pleasant memory.

I shake it off and move up, preschool, first grade, second, third... and my dad. No, don't think about him. I move through the memories, forcefully skipping some and there it was.

"Ninth grade," I whisper. The very first time I had the feeling someone is watching. I remember constantly looking over my shoulder. I remember waking up in my closet, not entirely sure how I got there. And then it really started.

"What happened in ninth grade?" Michelle brings me out if my thoughts.

"He called for the first time."

"He did? How did that go?"

"At the time, I didn't know it's him, obviously. The home phone rang. I took the call and there was a man on the other side. He apologized, saying he had to get the wrong number. I said it's okay. He told me I've got a pleasant voice. I thanked him and- I don't know. We just started talking somehow." I stop abruptly. I feel weird. As if the phone call happened yesterday, not two years ago.

"What happened after that, did he call you again?"

"No, I mean not at first. But little gifts started to appear out of nowhere. In my locker, then in front of the house, then inside on my desk. I was scared to tell anyone. I was so afraid my dad will find out," I trail off.

"How's your dad? Have you seen him at all since the divorce has been finalized?"

"I don't wanna talk about him." I really don't. I'm glad that asshole is out of my life. He tried to call me a week ago, he wanted to meet, to make things right. Right, as if he ever could.

"It's okay, we don't have to talk about him if you don't want to." She immediately backs off. "Tell me about the presents."

I take a minute to examine the lovely pattern on the sofa again. It's so pretty.

"Amanda?"

"Yes, the presents. Little things. I was actually really happy about it at first. I was thinking I've got a secret admirer, and I guess I had in a way. But when I started to find things inside of the house. I don't know, it creeped me out."

"Did you try to tell your mom?"

"No, the calls started then. It was him again. He complimented me on my outfit I wore to school that day, or my hair, or how well I did in practice. I cried and asked him to leave me alone. His only reply was 'do not tell anyone, otherwise, I'll come for a visit in person'. God I was so scared."

"How come you can talk to me now?" She shifts the focus to something more comfortable.

"I slipped once, I told my friend. And nothing happened. I waited and waited, and another present came, but that was it. So I told my mom, she took me to the police. The investigation started and I was sent to you, so you'd help me deal with the trauma. Or at least that's what mom told me."

"And it was the right thing to do." She smiles and checks the clock on the wall. "It looks like it's time for you to go."

I look at it too. She's right. I better get going or else I'll be late for my class. "Yeah, I need to go. See you next week?" I ask as I put my coat on.

"Definitely. Have a nice day Amanda and don't worry, everything will get better." She smiles trying to look encouragingly but I can see right through it. She doesn't believe her own words.

"Yeah, thank you, you too." I play the game.

***

"Hello Ms. Clark, it's Michelle Lopez, the psychiatrist from Hamilton's center for Youngs. I am very sorry to inform you that your daughter's condition seems to be taking a rapid turn for the worse. I won't go into many details over the phone but her delusions are starting to get much more complex. she now had structured a years-long story. From what I've heard today, we might be even facing a split personality. Yes, yes I'm afraid she'll have to be committed. Why don't you come over to my office on Monday and we'll talk about what's need to be done and all the details? Eight in the morning works for you? Okay, see you on Monday then. Again, I am truly sorry I didn't have better news for you. Yeah, bye."