Splinters: Part One

Part One | 12

I sat back, sinking into the back of the couch, and crossed my arms. My disliking for Dr. Hamelon was beginning to grow stronger. She wrote something down, and then took off her glasses.

"I understand that this is difficult for you to discuss, Brayden, but we don't have time to lie."

"I'm not lying!"

And I wasn't. Everything I previously stated regarding my parents was the truth. My father never hit me, ever! I couldn't even imagine my father hitting me. I know he loved me, my mother was a different story.

If she loved me, she'd have stayed home and looked after me, not leaving me for my father.

"If you want me to help you, Brayden," Dr. Hamelon began.

"No!" I shouted. "I don't need your help!"

I got up, too furious to really understand what I was doing, and left the room. The first person I saw was Melissa, and then I noticed a mother and a girl sitting in another sofa.

"Brayden?" Melissa stood up, her face concerned. "Is everything all right?"

I stared at her, angry.

"Brayden." Dr. Hamelon called from inside the room.

I pushed past Melissa and left the office.

...

After I had made my hasty escape from the therapy session, Melissa told me she'd talk to Dr. Hamelon to see what was going on - because she wasn't getting anywhere with me and my attitude.

I couldn't understand why Dr. Hamelon would think my parents abused me. They truly never did, and I had never said they abused me. They abused each other, yes, but never me.

A loud thump interrupted my thoughts. I looked over to see a dazed Melissa, staring at her steering wheel. Slowly, she started the car, and didn't say anything. She hesitated, almost about to start our journey home, but she turned to me.

"Brayden?"

I glanced at her, waiting for her to ask her question.

"Your old parents... Did they... Did they hit you?"

I was beginning to get really frustrated. Flailing my arms above my head, I yelled at her.

"No! I don't know where she's getting that from! My parents never hurt me!"

"They were never abusive?" she questioned, looking like she was almost afraid of the answer.

"I- no! Not to me!"

Melissa's head jerked to face me. "Not to you..."

I let out a long breath. "Sometimes, my dad hit my mom. My mom slapped my dad a lot."

Melissa gasped, as if the news to her had broken her heart. I tried my best not to relive the memories of my parents' arguments. It was painful to watch my father's hand swipe my mother's cheek, or to see my mother punch at my father's chest. A lot of times, my father would barely flinch at her flailing hands. He was much stronger than her, but a slap once was all he'd ever do. Even that was rare at times.

I didn't understand why Melissa found the information so horrible though. I did, of course, but why her? What did my parents mean to her? Nothing. Melissa knew nothing about my life except for what I've told her.

Melissa sniffed, and moved the clutch.

"You're going to another therapist."

...

When Melissa and I entered the house, Ursanne was the first to greet me.

"Your costumes came in!" she gushed, tugging me towards the living room.