The Past Never Fades (TBITBH Sequel)

1

"How are you doing today Rachel?" Sherry, my therapist, asks me from the couch across from me.

The room is darkly lit with a calming lavender scent in the air. Pressing my palms together, I squeeze them between my thighs. Her question is hard to answer even though nothing has changed since I saw her last week. I tried the sleeping pill she suggested. It didn't work. The peaceful sleep they are meant to offer never came.

Glancing down at her blue flats with bows on the toes, I say, "I'm still having the same nightmares."

"Have you been taking the pills since I last saw you?" Her voice is calm and slow.

"Yes. But they aren't working." Looking up at her, she raises her eyebrows. "Every little while, I keep waking up screaming."

"Those were strong sleeping pills," Sherry says mostly to herself. "When was the last time you had a full nights sleep?"

"I can't remember." My eyes slightly close as the idea of a good nights sleep. I rub them to keep them open. This couch is so comfy. My body is sinking snuggly into the cushions like I'm sitting on a plush cloud.

"Rachel," she says to wake me up. My eyes burst open and my head shoots up. I move my hair behind my ears. "Do you remember anything yet that happens in the nightmares?"

This is the question I knew was coming at some point. I've been seeing her for a month now once a week. Each time I come, we always talk about my lack of sleep, the reasons, and how to sleep better. The main reason is the nightmares, but she hasn't asked what happens in them. They are horrible and make no sense. I don't know why I thought I could avoid this question.

I open my mouth to say one thing I remember most from my nightmare. All that comes out is a sound like from the Grudge movie. They are called nightmares because the worst possible thing you don't want to think about happens. I do not want to relive those moments. Even if they never took place in real life.

Letting out a breath, she says, "In order to work through what is causing your nightmares, we have to talk about them. Get to the root of what they mean."

It doesn't mean anything. How can they when they aren't real? I know for a fact that everything that goes on hasn't happened. "I c-can't remember a thing. A few minutes after I wake up I forget."

"Nightmares are near impossible to forget. The things that scare us the most are the things that we remember the most." She writes a few things down on the pieces of paper clipped to the board set on her lap.

It's possible she might be right. I do remember clearly each part of my nightmares. Every single detail. There isn't a scene I don't remember. I have to force myself to forget every morning. The images get pushed into the back of my mind really deep down in the darkest corner where they can't resurface. Then I distract myself by reading a book. It works perfectly until I wake up the next morning.

"Okay," Sherry nods. "Is there something else you want to talk about?" I don't have an answer, so she adds, "How is your second semester back to university going?"

Looking directly into her calm eyes, I say, "I haven't been able to concentrate."

"Why is that?" She writes more on the paper.

"My mind wanders else where. All I can think about is trying to piece it together." The words that have been bottled inside come pouring out. "None of it is true, yet it feels like it is. My heart breaks more and more each time I have to relive it."

"That is why you are here. To put the pieces together."

"I don't know where to start." The words come out huskily as I grab the plastic cup of water.