KATE – P.O.V.

The waiting room was white. Too white. Walls. Chairs. Lights.
Everything felt… clean. Fake clean.

I sat there, my knees close to my chest, hands locked together. Feet tapping against the floor. I didn’t realize it until the woman sitting opposite stared at me for a second and then looked away.

Tick. Tick. Tick.

The clock was loud. Or perhaps my head was.

I hate waiting. Waiting gives memories space.

“Ms. Watson?”

I looked up immediately.

“Yes.”

“Dr. Anna will see you now.”

I stood up too fast. My head spun for a second but I didn’t care. I just wanted to get it over with.

I was welcomed with the strong smell of lavender. I hate lavender. People think it calms you down. It doesn’t. It just reminds you that you’re supposed to be calm. On my left was a book shelf, holding of Carl Jung’s Lectures on Shadow; Sigmund Freud’s Interpretations of Dreams, Psychological Writings, Letters and some Behavioural Psychology books.

 “So,” she said softly. “How have you been, Kate?”

I stared at the floor.

“They’re back,” I said.

She didn’t ask what. She already knew.

“The dreams,” I added. “The same ones.”

She nodded, slowly writing something in her notebook.

“He’s there,” I continued. “Every night. The gun. The sound. I wake up before—”

I stopped.

Before I die.

Dr. Anna looked at me now.

“Are you thinking about that night again?” she asked.

 “It’s Christmas around,” I said. “How do I not?”

She leaned back.

“Kate, this is exactly why I told you not to revisit those memories right now,” she said. “Festive seasons trigger unresolved trauma. You need to distract yourself.”

“I’m not trying to remember,” I said quickly. “It just comes.”

She sighed.

“You’re taking your medications, right?” she asked.

“Yes,” I nodded. “Every night.”

“Good,” she said. “Then trust them. Trust yourself. This is not the time to open old wounds.”

Old wounds? As if they ever closed.

“You were saved that night by your cousin,” she added, “That chapter was over and that person is in prison.”

“What if I have died?”

“You are just overactive with your imaginations”

“But…what if…just for a second…Curiosity had killed the cat?”

“Why don’t you visit your family this week? Psychology says spending time with people we like helps up to heal”

I nodded.

x-x-x

Outside, the air was cold.

I put my headphones on as soon as I stepped onto the street, opened Spotify and played the Trending Songs of The Week.

Last Christmas… I gave you my heart…

I froze for a second. I didn’t change the song. I let it play.

Snowflakes brushed past my face as I walked. People passed me. Laughing. Shopping. Living.

I kept walking. The song continued.

This year… to save me from tears…

My grip tightened around my phone. I don’t know why, but suddenly I felt it again.

That same heaviness. Like something was waiting.

 Not behind me. Not ahead. Inside.