Pain

Therapist

        I know that I'm being watched. I can feel the eyes boring into me everywhere I turn. After everyone finally noticed something was wrong they called 911.  They brought me to the hospital to give me a check up. They said it would help to see what happened. Personally, I don't think it's that hard to figure out. I don't see why they just don't leave me alone. For a couple blissful seconds when I woke up, I couldn't remember anything, not a single moment. I relished those moments. But then it all came rushing back.

        The pain. The noise. The heat. The feel of someone else's body. The glint of the blade. The cold of it as it sliced into my arm. The light bursting into the room as people came in. The laugh. That terrible, terrible laugh. That was one of the worst things. Remembering that laugh. As I remembered I whimpered, which only alerted everyone to the fact that I was awake. Someone touched my arm, and I started screaming again. Apparently it was so bad that after a while they put me out so I wouldn't hurt my vocal cords. They're not completely sure if it worked or not.

        Now, about 2 hours later they're talking to my parents. I can hear them. The doctors say they think I should go to therapy. The cops say they can't find him. He got away too fast, and it took everyone too long to figure out what had been going on. It didn't help that no one who had been at the party would come forward. They didn't want to get in trouble. I can't hold it against them though. I would be scared too.

        I don't want to stay and listen to this anymore though. Gettting up and looking out my room's door I open it, and start sliding against the wall to the right. Just another couple feet, and I can turn the corner and go home. I make it around the corner, but not completely undetected. Someone bumps into me as I start to turn around, and I fall to the floor. Except they catch me before I can even land. It reminds me too much of what happened at the party and I start to panic.

        My breathing increases. My adrenaline rises, and I can feel myself about to hyperventilate as my eyes grow wide. I look up and tense further, but just then the person laughs and I immediately relax. That laugh is not the same. I would know if it was. Sizing up who caught me for a minute I can see he's tall, with muscles (which is why I was starting to freak out before), has black hair and blue eyes. Eyes you could probably easily get lost in. I've just been through too much tonight for it to have any effect on me. He laughs again, and I realize he's seen me checking him out.

        A blush rises to my cheeks, and I know I must be bright pink. I know I'm not adorable, but sometimes I like to think I look alright. I mean, I have a little tummy, with boobs and a butt to match; with strawberry blonde hair, and chocolate brown eyes. I blush even more when I realize he still hasn't let me go. Looking up into his eyes I see the amused expression there, then I recognize him as one of the people who busted into the room. My breath catches and it's obvious that he can see the fear on my face, when he starts to look confused. I whisper,

        "I'm sorry," and wriggle my way out of his arms.

        I start to bolt down the hallway. I just want to go home. I can feel his stare on my back. I'm almost gone when I trip over my own two feet and fall on my hands. Immediately jumping up and looking back to see him hide his amused/confused expression I run to the door. As I bust through it I hear the commotion as everyone realizes I'm gone. Glancing back one more time to see the stranger look from my room to me, a small smile blooming on his lips as his eyes land on me. He raises his eyebrows and looks at me expectantly. Seeing everyone start to turn the corner is my queue. I turn around, and bolt out of the hospital not looking back.

 2 WEEKS LATER

        It hadn't taken them long to find me. After  that though they left me alone. However I couldn't get out of the therapy sessions. I couldn't stop thinking about the guy I ran into. I've never seen him before, but for some reason the look he'd given me just unnerved me. I can't stop remembering how he raised his eyebrows at me as if he was expecting me to do something,

         "Emma are you okay?"

        The voice snaps me out of my thoughts, and I'm brought back to reality. My therapist (gosh I hate that word!) is sitting in front of me. She has brown hair, with blue eyes and she's currently wearing a navy blue pant suite. She's looking at me as if I've grown two heads, and I can't help but wonder if she has a life outside of here. I've heard that some therapists beat around the bush and don't really get to the point it seems like, but not her. No. She gets right to the point. She'd asked me a question which had caused me to retreat into my own head. Now she repeats the question, and I know she wont just let it go.

        "What do you remember about that night?"

        I try to hide my wince as I remember everything. The burning of my jack daniels, my stumbling, the feel of his arms around me not letting go. Me trying to break free, the sound of the door slamming shut. The feel of wind, the mattress, his figure standing over me. The pain, his laugh, the glint of the knife, the pain in my arm. I try to hide the pain in me. If anyone knows how much I remember they'd be heart broken.

        They think I don't remember much. It made them relieved that I didn't have to go through that pain. So I can't break the illusion now. I have to protect them all. So I look up at the therapist, glance at the clock and whisper,

        "Our time is up."