Picture Perfect

34.

~Kyler~

"So Mr. Harris. How are we feeling today?" Dr. Bringer asks with a smile and a crossing of his fingers.

"I feel fine. I've stopped smoking so much. I still do, I just limit myself to 3 times a week. Monday, Wednesday, Friday. My mom said it was counterintuitive to my coming here. And I had to think hard on it. I guess I tend to not be entirely truthful about anything with you, or anyone else because I just, what I saw, I wouldn't want to fuck anyone else up with that image or these feelings. I just smoke and decide I don't give a fuck. But I have to wake up everyday and decide that I don't give a fuck. It's hard, it's not as effective as before."

"And I'm sure it's not. Coping with drugs, even ones deemed legal, can turn into a dangerous slippery slope because you build up a tolerance, the effect is less impactful, and for those without the ability to make that hard stop to consider other options for coping with their stresses, traumas and anxieties, things can take an addictive turn toward opioids, etc. Because you are chasing a high you're never going to get again." He informs me.

I nod understanding what he's saying but I don't have addictive tendencies because clearly I've slowed down.

"I just, I don't know what I'm doing or how to move anymore. I've witnessed so much death and chaos over the past few months and I don't know who to blame. It didn't start until I got involved with Samantha... but I genuinely loved her. I think I still do, I'm not sure how I feel about her now. I don't know. I don't want to fuck things up anymore than I already have. I don't even know how to talk to her anymore."

He wears an expression of intrigue.

"What? Why you looking like that?" I frown my face up at him.

"Why are you trying to place blame on something that is innately blameless? She couldn't control the deaths over either one of those people anymore than you could. So why do you want to blame her? None of that you have control over. What you do have control over, though, is your ability to process your own grief. You ever stop to think about why the deaths around you lately hold so much weight?"

I think for a while. The images come back to me, vividly. The blood on the driver side window. Garrison's last words, the pictures that were released of his dead body limp on his sofa in front of the still on TV. He was watching ESPN, the channel that dragged his name and his marriage through the mud. And Karsyn. Fucking Karsyn.

"My sister would still be alive if she walked away from her dude. She knew she was going to die by his hand but stayed. There was a chance for her, back at home. Despite all the fucked up things she said and did to our parents on his behalf, they wanted her back. They would've let her come back. But she didn't care for the idea. She spoke to me..." I catch my tears with my shirt as I lean forward thinking on the last serious conversation I had with her.

"Before she was killed?" Dr. Bringer asks

I nod thinking on the conversation.

"When are you coming home Kar? Mom and dad are messed up behind this." I stick the spoon back into my half melted ice cream with my arms folded in frustration.

She shrugs and shakes her head.

"Eat your ice cream. Did you enjoy the movie? I thought it was cool you know. The editing, the slowing down and picking back up of the shot paces. The color grading. I definitely give it a-"

Usually I'm up to debate film theory with her but not today.

"Karsyn, I don't care about that right now. Why are you avoiding my question? You need to come back home. This guy, he's dangerous. He's not good for you."