The Victim (Book #1)

Chapter 11

The next morning, I woke up later than usual. Although I expected Charlotte to have crept downstairs or be gone by now, I was still in her arms. Her nimble fingers stroked delicate rows through my hair just as they had when I fell asleep. I looked up at her, so she'd know I was awake.

"Morning..." I mumbled hesitantly.

"Good morning." She said gently, looking down. She didn't have any makeup on, and she was wearing a Harley Davidson shirt that appeared to be her husband's, but she looked absolutely beautiful.

"About last night..." I muttered.

She cocked her head to the side but didn't speak. I sat up abruptly and her arms fell off of me as I began talking.

"I'm really so sorry about everything! I didn't mean to scare you, or Brooklyn or Damon and I really didn't want anyone to even hear me, but I thought I heard him, and it was probably a bad dream, but it didn't feel like a dream and I-".

"Maya." She stopped me.

"Yes?"

"It's okay." She said with a smile.

"Do you... want to do another session now?" I asked.

She looked indifferent and replied, "If you want to. I know that you are required therapy after the trauma you faced but how much or how little you tell me has always been 100% up to you."

I thought about that for a minute and then spoke. "I want to tell you more, I think."

"Okay then," she said, standing up. "Let's go."

As we walked down the stairs quietly, I felt a strong impulse that I couldn't stop somehow. I reached over and grabbed her hand, holding on. She looked at me for a second and it seemed sad until she smiled and lit up the entire room. She looked away and kept walking, gripping my hand firmly until we reached her office together.

I slid into the red chair beside the lamp with the same discomfort as ever, but this time I was more honest about it. I curled my legs up next to me and grabbed them as we began. I knew it made me look childish and small, but I couldn't help it.

We were both silent for a while, until I said, "I don't really know where to begin."

She nodded in understanding. "Would you like me to ask questions and you can try to answer them?"

I nodded, still hugging my knees.

"Alright... well, let's start with way back when. What is your very first memory?" she asked, getting deep quickly. Funny how she always seemed to know which questions would strike a nerve and which were okay. Maybe she had guessed more about me than I realized.

"I don't remember my parents." I said, looking down. "I've tried to, but I can't. My first clear memory ever would be me walking into my uncle's house in a blue dress that I hated to wear. My mom forced me into it I think, because it was Easter. I can't remember her, just my feelings towards her that day if that makes any sense. I was about 4... maybe 5."

I took a deep breath, and then went on.

"I remember my uncle had hidden little pink eggs all over his backyard for me to find, and I was rushing around to get them all in my dress. I didn't care that I ran through the grass or that I got messy. I was having so much fun. The grownups were talking to one another at a big table in the shade, and nobody really minded me too much. Except him. You see, I think he's always been watching me. I can feel him watching me now."

I looked up at Charlotte, who didn't look alarmed. Just... curious. I kept going, pleased that I hadn't scared her yet.

"There was one egg left to discover that I couldn't seem to find, no matter where I looked. At that point, my uncle walked over and asked to pick me up. I leapt into his arms and he walked me over to the last egg, waiting one second before I finally understood what he was showing me. I was so happy, and that's when he took me inside."