“We could try to wean you off of them if you’d like.” I’m surprised how casually she responds.
“Is that dangerous?” I ask.
“Not if you’re honest with yourself and with me. You had triggers that day, but you did nothing about them. You’re aware now of what could happen.”
“I am. And I won’t let that happen again.” I won’t. I don’t want to die. I didn’t live through all of that to end my own life.
“I’m very proud of you, Ava. Not many people are able to get a good look at themselves the way that you have.”
“Thank you,” I respond, although I feel awkward. I’m not proud. I’m ashamed.
“How’s your scar?” she asks, as her eyes dart to my shoulder. It’s a warm day outside, so my skin is exposed.
“One more treatment left to go, but I can’t even see it.” The surgeon said there was a small amount of scar tissue still, but I can’t see a damn thing. It makes me smile. I’m happy I never got the tattoo. It would have been a constant reminder. This is so much better.
“That’s wonderful.” She jots something down before looking back up at me. “And your weight? Is that back to normal now?”
“I’m still finding it difficult to eat.” It’s been hard for me to gain weight.
She purses her lips and writes some more. I hate it when she does that. Usually I know what she’s writing. But her pen keeps going and I find myself trying to read the fucking novel she’s writing.
“You’re looking well though, Ava. Are you feeling better as a whole?”
“I am.” I started jogging again. I used to fucking hate it. My sister used to make me go with her. It’s nice though. I can see why she liked it. I don’t know why she dragged my ass out along with her though. I don’t want company when I’m running. I just like the music, the feeling of being free. The burn of my muscles.
It wears my ass out though.
“Good. Let’s move on. How about work? How has it been integrating with your coworkers?”
I fucking hate my coworkers. I need to find something other than working as a clerk at the hardware store. I can’t wait for classes to start up.
I take a deep breath and think about Mindy. She’s the only one I freaking talk to because of our shifts. She’s a little firecracker, and I like her. But she’s also a ho. She’s currently sleeping with Jeremy, who’s the store manager. And also the boyfriend of Tammy who works in the stockroom and orders supplies.
“It’s just like any other retail job,” I finally answer. I’m pretty sure that’s not true. But I don’t want this to become a bitch session.
Kane got me a job at a restaurant, but I turned it down. I was going to withdraw from the university too, before classes even started; he convinced me not to, though. I’m grateful for that. I’m really looking forward to it.
I pushed the chance at going back to school away at first, because Kane was paying for it. But one of Vince’s men, Tony I think, tracked down my father’s money and wired it to me. I half wondered if it’s really my father’s, but I stopped putting effort into thinking about it.
I got the money a few days ago and I want to quit this shit job, but I feel like I need to be a part of the real world again. I really fucking hate that petty drama though.
Kane told me once that I could get a job at the restaurant whenever I wanted. He also said I could move back in with him and not have to work, or do whatever the fuck I wanted.
It’s so tempting, but I keep pushing him away.
I thought I needed to be apart from him. But I miss him so damn much.
I haven’t cried for him in over a week. I haven’t called him. I haven’t even seen him in over a week. Sometimes when I’m walking to a nearby café on my lunch break, I swear I feel his eyes on me. But when I turn around, no one’s there. It breaks my fucking heart every time.
“What are you thinking now?” Dr. Mae asks, and it pulls me from my thoughts.
I don’t want to admit it, but I tell the truth. That’s the only way I’ll get better.
“About Kane.” I swallow. “I miss him.”
She nods her head and scribbles something in her notebook. “Any more late night calls?”
“No. I haven’t seen him in over a week now.” She cocks a brow as she writes more in that damn book.
“I see. And have you thought about seeing him?” she asks as though she thinks it would be alright.
The word falls out of my mouth easily. “Yes.” I’ve thought of him holding me. Almost every night I try to remember our nights together so I can focus on a bit of happiness. The sweet moments of passion. I know he loves me. I think he loves me.