Suppressed

~ Kaitlin's Point Of View ~
“What do you want me to say? I’m depressed, I want to kill myself?” I laugh tapping my cigarette against the ashtray.
“No Kaitlin, of course that isn’t what I want. It’s just we’ve had nearly ten sessions and you haven’t made any progress yet. Your mother is worried about you” my therapist with the short read hair sat back in her chair.
“Ha you say that like she’s tried to help. Look I’m outta here” I say standing up and putting my cigarette out in the ashtray.
“The session hasn’t finished yet” she replies standing up and following me to the door.
My hand reaches for the door but I hesitate for a second.
“Look I know this is your job, so I’ll be nice. I’ll lie say I’m really hitting on some stuff and you lie and say I’m doing well. That way I stop getting asked questions every minute and you get a nice big pay check okay?” I smile.
She stares at me and doesn’t open her mouth.
“Have a good day Angie” I smile opening the door and walking out.

As soon as I close it someone gently knocks off me from my right.
“Oh I’m sorry.....umm is my mother in there?” a guy around my age with a slight emo fringe asks.
“Angie is your mother?” I laugh looking into his green eyes.
“Yeah that’s the typical reaction I get when I tell people my mom’s a therapist” he smiles lightly.
“I thought my mom was bad, hairdresser. Pretty much a therapist for people who can’t afford the real thing” I laugh.
“Ha nice, so umm good session?” he asks with genuine concern.
“Umm I’m stubborn, I don’t really talk about “feelings”. Your mom does try though” I wave my finger.
“Yeah she’s very.....determined” he tries to say the word nicely.
“She’ll give in with me. Everyone always does, I guess that’s why I’m here” I laugh.
He awkwardly and almost faking it, smiles at me.
“So eh why are you like here? No offence but....my mother hates me being around her workspace” I laugh.
“My mother.....she likes to make sure everything is okay. Everyone....is okay” he says awkwardly again.
“She makes you do therapy? Man I thought my mom was bad, she bribes me to talk with candy and stuff” I laugh.
“Yeah.....usually she makes me do therapy with Jim” he points the door beside us.
“But he’s on vacation so she just wants to see if there is anything I need to talk about or anything new in my life” he shrugs his shoulders.
“Well is there anything new in your life?” I ask.

“Hmm I got an A in English and today I met a pretty girl in therapy” he smiles and nearly blushes.
“I hope you’re not talking about your mother, that’s a little creepy to be honest” I laugh.
We both stand there at the door just laughing and smiling awkwardly like little kids.
The door opens and Angelina pops her head out.
“Ah Myles right on time, Kaitlin I think you best be on your way out to the parking lot. I’m sure your mother is waiting” she says in that “I don’t want your kind around my son” tone.
“Nice to meet you Myles, see you Angie” I smile knowing she hates me calling her Angie.
“See you again Kate” he waves as I walk out.

I walk out into the parking lot and get in the car in silence.
“How was your talk with Angie today darling?” my mother smiles as I slam the door.
I do what I do best, I fake it.
“It was good, she says I’m really starting to loosen up a little and progress” I smile.
“Oh honey I am so proud of you” she pinches my cheek before starting the car.
I quickly take my IPOD out from my jacket pocket and begin to blare music loudly to drown any conversation out.
The drive home is quick this time, there aren’t many cars on the road and within a few minutes we are pulling up to our little house.
I rush out of the car and run upstairs as soon as I get into the house.
I slam my bedroom door, rip off my jacket and take everything out of my pockets.
I take off my shoes and practically bounce on my bed.
I lie there, listening to music and staring at the ceiling.

I think about death.
My father died a few weeks ago, I felt nothing.
He use to beat me and my mother.
He ended up walking out on us when I was a child and never even tried to contact or apologise for the years of abuse.
So I didn’t feel sad or angry, I felt nothing.
I’ve never felt much for people who died.
In fact most of the time I didn’t know the person well enough or I hated them.
I guess that makes me lucky, but I don’t feel lucky.

I think back to when I was a kid and remember my older brother and his friends.
I never liked his friends, on the surface we got along but beneath it all I hated them.
What could I do though?
They were older, I was younger and no one would believe me.
I never really focused on the past, but recently it’s come back up.
I’m not sure why, none of it mattered now.
I try to focus on the future and getting away from the people I hate most, everyone here.
I didn’t like to dwell on things I couldn’t change, the people are forgotten.
None of it matters, obviously I am still alive so none of it mattered enough to kill me or scar me.
Well at least I don’t think they scarred me.

But like everyone, I have regrets.
People say they don’t but everyone does.
People regret being stupid.
People regret letting things happen.
Letting people walk over them and treat them like dirt.
Everyone regrets not knowing what they know now.
But why do we bother regretting?
There is no way to change any of it.
We can only really move on and forget it.
Well we can try to forget it and ignore it.
But no matter what, the memories are always there.