AllFreeNovel
Share Us
I sighed heavily because this was the hard part. “I’m having trouble sleeping. I’m having nightmares about… what I saw in those videos. I haven’t had a good night’s sleep in months. How do I make it go away?”
The doctor sat back in his chair, two fingers on his lips. He thought for a second and said, “Again, there’s no hard or fast rule to that. Our brains work in mysterious ways. Some people can block out the things they see or do on the job and others carry those things with them. The best thing is to talk about it. Or journal. I find both help with traumatic memories. It’s up to you which you think is most effective. I’ve been a therapist with the agency for ten years. I’ve heard it all, and I also see a therapist when I get overwhelmed. The easiest for me is journaling. I find that when I write things down, they start to fade from my memory over time. They don’t disappear completely, but they become less vivid. And when I’m done, I burn the entry. It gives me a therapeutic sense of finality. Does that sound like something you’d be interested in trying? Or I can prescribe you some medication? Whatever you think will help you in the long run.”
“Can I do all of that? I feel like journaling and talk therapy will take a while to work through, and I would give anything for a good night’s sleep while I’m on vacation.” My tone was pleading, and I hated the weakness, but the nightmares were killing me.
“I’ll prescribe you some low-dose sleep aids. If they don’t work, I want you to call me immediately. We’ll get you something stronger.”
We spoke a bit longer, filling the mandatory hour time slot. I liked the doctor, Dr. Greyson. He seemed a genuinely good doctor who appeared to know his job well. I actually looked forward to our future sessions.
Chapter3
Tristan
Despite saying I didn’t want to fight for my relationship, I was craving Devin by night’s end. I knew I wouldn’t go back or forgive him, but that didn’t stop me from crying myself to sleep, thinking about how much I missed him. I talked big shit about how I didn’t want him at the house when I came to get my things, but all I wanted was to see him. It was for the best if I didn’t, though, because if I did see him, I would fold like a lawn chair. I knew it. I would allow his apologies and excuses, and I would fight my own morals to forgive him. Here at Cass’ house, I could be strong.
During one of the breaks in my crying jags, I really thought about my relationship with Devin. I thought it was perfect. I thought I had my perfect man. He was everything I wanted—smart, strong, good-looking, patient, kind—but those things didn’t take away from the fact that he betrayed me so badly. And for me to walk in on it. For him to be in the bed we shared. Was he really the perfect man? I thought so. Why wouldn’t I? That’s what he showed me, but I couldn’t—no, Iwouldn’t—move backward. But how did I move forward?
I snuck over to the apartment the next morning while Cass was at work. She told me to wait until she got off so she could come with me, but I figured it would be more likely that Devin would be home that late in the afternoon. He rarely took evening clients. It was blissfully quiet when I walked in, and my heart ached because of it. I didn’t feel comfortable in the home I had lived in for six months, and that hurt. I packed two suitcases of clothes and all of my writing supplies. Anything else could stay.
After dragging my suitcases to the door, I hesitated. I wanted to leave, had to leave, but it was hard. I thought this was where I would build my life or start to build my life. I thought Devin and I would start here, maybe buy a home together and start a family. Live our happily ever after.
I knew it sounded hypocritical that I saw our future and didn’t fight for it, but how do you fight for a cheater? There was no way to tell if that was his first time or if he’d been cheating on me for the whole two years of our relationship. That trust was irrevocably broken, and so was I. I didn’t tend to have relationships. Devin was only my second serious boyfriend. The first was in college, and he’d gone to grad school in California while I stayed in Georgia to work. We ended on good terms, so I didn’t have any experience with heartbreak.
This feeling hurt. It physically hurt. My chest felt heavy. My heart thudded painfully behind my ribs. My lungs constricted. I didn’t like it. Heartbreak was supposed to be an expression. It wasn’t supposed to be a physical manifestation. Every inhale had me wondering why Devin did this to me, to us. Every exhale had me cursing his name.
Rubbing my sternum, I looked around and conjured up memories of every spot in this apartment.
Watching television on the sofa with Devin.
Cooking dinner in the kitchen for Devin.
Being bent over the dining room table, stroked from behind.
I shook my head at that last memory. No telling who else he had bent over that very table while I was out of the house.
Walking to the kitchen, I scribbled a note to Devin, letting him know where I would leave his key. And that there was no need to contact me anymore. I was blocking his number and didn’t want to hear from him. The only reason I didn’t change my number was because it would be too much of a hassle to give my new number to all the people and businesses it was connected to.
With a heavy sigh, I grabbed the handles of both of my suitcases and rolled them out onto the walkway. After locking up, I snapped the key off my keychain and slid it under the doormat.
Feeling lost, I dragged my suitcases downstairs then packed my things in my trunk and got behind the wheel. Instead of pulling off immediately, I sat for a while, thinking. I didn’t know what I was going to do. The only saving grace was that the lease was only in Devin’s name, so I was free to find an apartment on my own. But how would I pay for it? Sure, I had savings that would allow me to live comfortably for at least a year, but what was the next step? Finding a job that fit with my degree would take a while, there not being that many for an English major. I suppose I could find a teaching job, but that wasn’t ideal for wanting a writing career. I loved being an editor. It gave me a purpose, helping authors realize their dream because I wanted it to be me one day.
I had no man, no job, and no home. My world was dark. Darker than it had ever been, second only to my parents disowning me for being gay and kicking me out at seventeen.
I gently banged my head on the steering wheel once, twice, three times before I pulled myself together. I could wallow in self-pity later. For now, I needed to get away from this apartment before Devin showed up and talked me out of my boxer briefs.
I pulled up to Cass’ house, glad I had someone I could count on. After unloading my suitcases from my trunk, I walked to the door, happy I was able to sneak away to get my belongings before she got home until I saw Cass sitting on the couch. The stern look on her face told me she wasn’t pleased with the fact I went alone. I opened my mouth to apologize, but she held her hand up. I closed my mouth and stepped inside, closing and locking the door behind me.
“I’m not mad that you went to get your stuff, love. I figured you’d do it when I left this morning. I know you too well. Too proud to ask for help, and Devin might be home later in the afternoon. I remember you telling me he rarely took late clients. No need to apologize. You could have told me you were going, though, so I wouldn’t worry.”
“I am sorry, though. I thought you were at work. I know you wanted to help, but it was something I had to do on my own. It’s not closure, but I needed to see if I was strong enough to walk away without someone pressuring me to. Not saying you would pressure me,” I hurried to add.
“I know. I wouldn’t have pushed, but I figured my presence would have been… distracting. I know it was hard, but I’m proud of you.”
Her saying that made my bottom lip tremble and my eyes water. I didn’t want her to be proud that I was strong enough to walk away because I didn’t want to be in the position to walk away in the first place.
“Oh, sweetie,” she said, getting up and leading me to the couch. She was a tiny thing, five-four in heels, but she put her hand on my shoulder and sat me down. “I know this is hard. Hell, it’s doubly hard that you walked in on him. But you’re strong. You can get through this. It won’t be easy, and you have a long road ahead of you, but it’s not the end of the world. Devin is an ass for treating you like this. You are love and light. You deserve that in return.”
Breaking down with her on the couch wasn’t how I wanted to spend my morning, but I needed to get it out. A good cry would help me purge these feelings left behind from the betrayal. And her shoulder made the perfect pillow. Twenty-four hours ago, I was happy. My life was great. How a day could change so rapidly, I would never know.
