Her Redemption

3 | Truama

katherine blackthorn

"How are you this morning, Katherine?" My therapist, Miss Jenkins, asks.

  And I sighed. I'm tired of the same questions; They're asked over and over again. The same routine. Every fucking morning.

  "I'm tired," I chuckle, "Not physically. Mentally."
  She writes this down in her notebook where mine and every one of her client's feelings are helt.

  "Why are you tired, Katherine?".

  "My parents. They keep comparing me to my brother who is dead. I think they don't want to believe he's dead."

  I'm sick and tired of being compared to someone who didn't care about anything.

  "How does this affect you? Why do you hate it?" She asks. A laugh erupts from my throat and she stares at me, trying to figure me out.

  Like she's been trying to for the past year.

  "Do you have siblings?" I asked.

  "I do?" It sounded like a question.

  "Have you ever been compared to them? Do you know what that feels like? It feels like," I'm staring at the window, trying to gather the emotions to pour. "It feels like you have to succeed at those expectations your parents are expecting. And it's absolutely fucking exhausting."

  "I don't want to be like my brother; A heartless and toxic person. But since my brother is practically like my other half, I inherited those burdens. I was a manipulative person who fed off people's pain."

  She looks at me, her eyes wandering over my features. My jaw was shaking, eyes glossy yet staring back at her with an unknown emotion.

  "How did you feel? Knowing you enjoy hurting people's feelings?" She asks, taking me back slightly.

  "I enjoyed it. I felt like nobody could hurt me. Until, the incident happened."

  "When you learnt about the incident, how did you feel?" She asked, taking me back to when it happened.

Flashback
Georgia : 1 year ago

I'm home alone. Mum and dad went out again, drinking; Trying to drink their grief away.

  It won't work.
  Trust me.
  It will only make it worse.

  I'm sitting in the living room, texting Lola, one of my minions who follows me everywhere.

  'He's so weird.' Her text came through.

  We're talking about how the second biggest loser, Aaron Knight, tried to speak to Lola. His attempt was a failure, of course. Fucking weirdo.

  'Apparently he likes Sofie' I text back.

  As another text came through, an abrupt knock on the door made me gasp.

  Who would be knocking this late? It's like 1:20am.

  I sighed, too tired to even get up from the couch, but still did. I made myself towards the door, which was still being abused.