And Then The Murders Began

Chapter Three: Get Your Feelings Off

"I just don't know if I'll ever really be able to get over it... those people were my friends, and now they're gone, and...." I'm rambling, why am rambling, you need to take a freaking chill pill wolfy.

I know it, and yet I can't do anything about it. Screw that, I can, and I will- after I take a deep breath, there we go.

My emotions have been out of control for the last three weeks and I hate it; everyone's just been going for the shrimpy wolf is an emotional wreck ha ha ha look at the freak angle... but I'm stronger than that. Everything's going to get better, right? Right- Right?

I feel like I'm lying to myself thinking that, but at the same time I know that telling myself that small little white lie is the only thing that I can cling to to keep me grounded. I need to stay grounded...

"I'm sorry," I mutter. "I wish I could say more out loud right now, but I can't, I just can't do it, not when the memories are too sharp and the good times we had together are too painful to remember.

"No, it's okay," Miss Tremblay tells me, putting a reassuring hand on my trembling arm. "I understand, I promise. If you don't want to talk more about it today-"

"I don't," I tell her, hearing the snap in my tone and I sigh, pushing myself up off of the ottoman that all of her patients sit on when they come in to visit her. "Yeah, of course, sorry for wasting your time, in the meantime, the breathing exercises like usual, right?"

"You got it," she says, "and yes, before you ask, you can take your notebook home with you. I know you insist on asking permission, but it really is okay, you know?" she says, giving me a smile that's both warming and sad at the same time. I know she thinks that it's helping me to feel better, but gosh darn it that face is so freaking condescending that it's not even funny... and it's only made worse by the fact that I can see the look in her eyes, the pity that she thinks she's hiding so well. Humans are so freaking obvious, it's not even funny.

Actually, you know what, scratch that, they are funny, but it's always more of a 'funny uh-oh' instead of a 'funny haha'...

"I know," I say, returning the same look. "It's just-," I sigh, "It's just that there hasn't been any real consistency in my life since, well, since everything went to shit... my parents are fighting all the time now too, I've heard them shouting at each other through their bedroom doors... they don't know what to do about me and it's tearing us all apart, doc. I, um- Is it wrong of me to feel like this is all my fault? Or am I overreacting again like usual?"

"Electra, that's perfectly normal, okay? You survived something traumatic, it's going to bring some stress to the family- but the fighting between your parents, it seems like they have some unresolved issues of their own that this whole scenario is bringing to the surface, wouldn't you say?"

"Okay, so let me see if I can translate that," I say, laughing for once, and I have to wonder how I did that so easily; see if I can hang onto that and brew it up to stir into my own (formerly) boring-ass life- "my parents' lives are screwed up and just because they're fighting over what's best for me doesn't really make it an issue that I've got to deal with, that right?"

"Yes, exactly!" Ms. Tremblay says, forcing a smile that feels like it'd be better suited for if she were talking to kindergarten students, and I have to remind myself that she doesn't mean it like that, that there's definitely work that I need to do that I just really haven't felt like doing. I've hot to get myself together, keep my head screwed on, right?

Oh, and get back because it gives me some sense of routine and normalcy, you know?"

"I understand completely, Electra," Miss Tremblay says. "I'll see you tomorrow, usual time."