Status: Weekly updates - planning a rewrite for the earlier chapters soon
Wilted
Fishtail Palm
“I thought the poetic mumbo jumbo didn’t work.” Mrs. Green sarcastically stated, raising an eyebrow towards me. She wasn’t as bad as I first though, I guess. Or maybe I’d just forgotten how she was since my last appointment had been so long ago.
“We said it didn’t work on me, not on you.” I retorted.
“I see you still have issues with your temper.” Mrs Green said, taking note of it on her computer. “But I need to fill this gap in your medical history, Katherine. Could you tell me what happened? Why was the CBT stopped?”
“I don’t feel comfortable talking about that.”
That was it, there was the wall. Up and up it quickly grew, made of brambles and thorns and wood so dark it looked like a void. We don’t talk about the dark days. We don’t think about them.
“Do you want Alexander to come in?”
“No!” I shouted, standing quickly. The blood rushed from my head I had risen so fast and cracks appeared through. Those dark days were filled with light. White light, hospital rooms, beeping machines and too many hands.
I scrunched my hands over my eyes and started pacing back and forth.
“Katherine, this time obviously affected you deeply. We need to talk about what happened and help you recover. There’s some trigger rooted in all of this, and I need to help you.” Mrs. Green showed actual concern in her voice. The professional edge was gone. She sounded more human, less robot.
“I can’t talk about it.”
“You can.”
“No!” I yelled louder this time, my foot stomping to the floor like a stropping toddler. “That part of me is dead. Dead and gone. No more. I don’t want to talk about it!”
Mrs. Green frowned, the sympathy gone. “I’m assigning you a carer.”
“What?” I stopped pacing around the room.
She typed away at her computer, clicking at different boxes on the screen. “And I’m increasing your dosage.”
I slumped to the ground, defeated and afraid. I couldn’t go through this again.
“You will be visited twice a day, once in the morning, once in the evening. They will supply you with your medication and make sure you are trying to get better.”
“No, no, no, no.” The words fell out of my mouth and I couldn’t catch them soon enough. She wasn’t listening though, she kept going.
“It’s for the best, Katherine. Until we feel like you will look after yourself there is no other option.”
She paused and turned away from her screen. “Unless we sent you to a mental health ward?”
“I- “I couldn’t finish my sentence.
“That’s settled then. I’ll see you in a month.”
And with that I felt my body autopilot its way to the door.
“We said it didn’t work on me, not on you.” I retorted.
“I see you still have issues with your temper.” Mrs Green said, taking note of it on her computer. “But I need to fill this gap in your medical history, Katherine. Could you tell me what happened? Why was the CBT stopped?”
“I don’t feel comfortable talking about that.”
That was it, there was the wall. Up and up it quickly grew, made of brambles and thorns and wood so dark it looked like a void. We don’t talk about the dark days. We don’t think about them.
“Do you want Alexander to come in?”
“No!” I shouted, standing quickly. The blood rushed from my head I had risen so fast and cracks appeared through. Those dark days were filled with light. White light, hospital rooms, beeping machines and too many hands.
I scrunched my hands over my eyes and started pacing back and forth.
“Katherine, this time obviously affected you deeply. We need to talk about what happened and help you recover. There’s some trigger rooted in all of this, and I need to help you.” Mrs. Green showed actual concern in her voice. The professional edge was gone. She sounded more human, less robot.
“I can’t talk about it.”
“You can.”
“No!” I yelled louder this time, my foot stomping to the floor like a stropping toddler. “That part of me is dead. Dead and gone. No more. I don’t want to talk about it!”
Mrs. Green frowned, the sympathy gone. “I’m assigning you a carer.”
“What?” I stopped pacing around the room.
She typed away at her computer, clicking at different boxes on the screen. “And I’m increasing your dosage.”
I slumped to the ground, defeated and afraid. I couldn’t go through this again.
“You will be visited twice a day, once in the morning, once in the evening. They will supply you with your medication and make sure you are trying to get better.”
“No, no, no, no.” The words fell out of my mouth and I couldn’t catch them soon enough. She wasn’t listening though, she kept going.
“It’s for the best, Katherine. Until we feel like you will look after yourself there is no other option.”
She paused and turned away from her screen. “Unless we sent you to a mental health ward?”
“I- “I couldn’t finish my sentence.
“That’s settled then. I’ll see you in a month.”
And with that I felt my body autopilot its way to the door.