The Cost of Silence

The Cost of Silence chapter 9

Chapter 9

It didn't strike me that it might be rude to just barge into Andrea's office until I was already throwing myself down on the couch, and by then there was nothing I could do about it anyways. Thankfully, Andrea didn't seem to mind. She had been sitting at her desk with all those papers, but when I walked (well, more liked stormed) into her office she stopped what she was doing and walked over to me.

"I heard what happened," she said quietly, sitting next to me on the couch and putting her hand on my shoulder. I just shrugged away from her, trying not to start crying again. I didn't want her sympathy. I had too much of that from my mother, and the cops, and all those nurses and doctors in the hospital. Everyone was tiptoeing around me, like I was fragile and could break at any moment. No one seemed to realize that I was already broken.

When Andrea saw that I didn't want to talk about it, or even acknowledge the fact that it happened, she accepted that and went back to her papers.

As much as I didn't want Andrea to push the subject, I was kind of surprised that she was willing to let it go like that. All of my past therapists would have been trying to drill their way into my head by now.

Andrea must have noticed me looking at her curiously, because she looked up and said "what are you waiting for? This is your hour to do whatever you want." Wow, she really was unorthodox. I decided right then and there that I really liked her. But not enough to talk to her. Not yet.

I walked over to where all the art supplies were and picked up a can of paint. I was originally planning on making another painting, like my eye, but something caught my eye. Balloons.

I picked up the pack of balloons and opened it, studying the contents. There had to be at least 100 of them. Perfect. One by one, I filled up the balloons with paint, filling different balloons with different colors of paint. After I had about 30, I pinned them all up on the wall with the least artwork on it. Perfect.

Andrea must have had some other interesting patients, because she also had some darts. She came prepared.

I grabbed all of the darts and backed up across the room, facing the wall with the paint filled balloons. Slowly, I aimed the first dart up with one of the balloons, and threw it.

The dart hit the balloon with such force, that the balloon exploded, and the the dart stuck into the wall behind it. Without hesitation, I threw dart after dart, with a strength I didn't even know I had.

Soon, every single balloon was popped, and paint was EVERYHERE. Even on Andreas papers, but she didn't seem to mind. She seemed used to it.

When all the balloons were popped, I still wanted to throw the darts. Actually, I wanted to throw anything. Or hit anything. There was an anger building up inside me that I had never seen before, and I needed to let it out.

I ran up to the wall and punched it, succeeding in only bruising my hand. Then I ran over to the couch and kicked it. I tipped a chair over, I threw a paint can at the wall (which then exploded). I basically demolished Andrea's office. And the whole time, she sat there at her desk, writing stuff down on papers, not bothered one bit.

After my little episode, I collapsed on the floor, covered in paint, crying. Andrea didn't try to comfort me, for which I was immensely glad. I didn't want any comfort. I just wanted to curl up on that paint covered floor, in my now ruined clothes, and cry.

And I did just that for a good 10 minutes. When I was finished, I got up, and sat back down on the couch. Andrea came over and handed me a towel to clean up with (she had everything in that office). She turned the chair I knocked over upright and sat down in it, apparently not caring that her pants were going to get paint all over them.

"This is what I call progress," she said, smiling at me. And strangely, I felt relieved of something. I wasn't sure what, but something inside of me had lifted. maybe it was some of my guilt, or anger. Who knew.

Neither of us said anything else as I got up and walked out of her office, but we really didn't need to. Nothing needed to be said between us. For the first time in my life, I felt like someone understood me perfectly.

My mother certainly didn't understand me (or anything, really) when I climbed into her car, actually smiling for once. That smiled disappeared, though, when she said "what the hell happened to you?" and looked at me incredulously. I just shrugged and looked out the window, not caring that the seats in her car were probably going to be covered in paint.

We drove back to the hospital to pick up Stella, seeing as the doctor had finally given us the OK to take her home. I had never seen a more excited four year old in my life when Stella climbed into the backseat of the car. And I actually almost goggle when Stella said to me "you look like a rainbow puked on you, Amy!" in her little adorable voice.

Of course, because Stella was four years old, all she wanted to do was run around and play. Which was the only thing she wasn't actually allowed to do, considering the fact that she had a concussion. It exhausted my mother and I, trying to get Stella to do something calm and quiet, like watch a movie.

Finally, we got her in bed, watching The Little Mermaid. It was the only movie she wanted to watch, and she watched it every night without fail. She honestly wanted to be a mermaid when she grew up.

After Stella was in bed and quiet, I went to the kitchen to get some food. I had showered and changed out of my paint clothes, and had put on some pajamas. I looked like a normal human being now. But that didn't stop my mother from demanding to know what I had done during my appointment with Andrea.

"Amy," she said, startling me, "why the hell were you covered in paint when I picked you up?" I put down the banana I had gotten and looked at her, sitting at the kitchen table.

I shrugged, picking up the banana again and taking a bite. But apperantlly my mother wasn't taking my silence as an answer this time. "Amy Davis, tell me," she demanded. I shrugged again and said "it was part of what I did today." that seemed like a pretty reasonable reason to me, but my mother didn't seem to like it. " I don't know," she said doubtfully, I knew that Andrea's methods were a little...odd, but I don't know if I want you seeing her."

I froze. She wasn't seriously going to make me stop seeing Andrea, was she? "no." I said, "I'm going to keep seeing her. Andrea is the only thing helping me right now." my mother looked hurt. "I can help you!" she insisted. I just stared her down. "fine," she said quietly after a moment, "I won't stop you from seeing her. But I want you to at least make an effort to let me help you, too."

I didn't reply to her. I didn't feel the need to. Instead, I threw the rest of my banana in the trash and walked out of the kitchen, all the way up to my room, where I laid on my bed and fell into a deep, dreamless sleep.

Authors note;

Love meeee! I uploaded two chapters in one day!!

Did you guys liked my choice of Stella's movie? I LOVE The Little Mermaid. Just read my 'about me' thing. I'm really a mermaid.

Amy's making 'progress'. Andrea said so. And Stella's out of the hospital! Yay! <3

What did you guys think of this chapter? (sorry for asking this every time, I just really want to know!)

Comment, vote, become a fan! :3

Xoxo.