Becoming Anne Again

Chapter Twenty Three (Part Two)

Matthew and Anne briefly returned to the house for sandwiches before they once again ventured out to Hope Counseling Center. Anne felt horribly jittery, and she bounced her knee up and down, her fingers clutched to her jeans. But then she set her jaw, because she was Anne Shirley—whatever that meant—and she was going to at least walk back in with her pride intact.

When they walked back in, there was already a woman by the receptionist's desk, and Anne couldn't help but smirk a little when she saw her strawberry blonde hair. Not quite red, but still, it was close.

The woman smiled, nonchalantly leaning against the receptionist's desk. "Anne Shirley?" Anne nodded, and Anne smiled even wider, walking over to the two and holding her hand out to Anne. "I'm Dr. Wilson."

"Nice to meet you," Anne said, gingerly taking Dr. Wilson's hand into her own. Dr. Wilson, on the other hand, gave her a firm shake.

"Very nice to meet you," Dr. Wilson said, quickly shaking Matthew's hand as well. "So Anne, do you want Mr. Cuthbert to come in with us?" Anne nodded—not because she necessarily was willing to share everything with Matthew, but because she didn't quite have enough faith in counseling to believe this was going to actually get her anywhere, and she would rather have Matthew beside her than anyone else.

Dr. Wilson's office wasn't so different from the waiting room, with the same calming blue, and a window on the far end of the office. There were black rimmed chairs and a desk angled against the wall, presumably so she wouldn't be separated from her patients. She motioned for Anne and Matthew to take a seat, as she herself sat down, swiveling the desk chair towards the two of them. "So how are we doing today, Anne?"

"Fine," Anne replied, shrugging her shoulders.

"Okay," Dr. Wilson said, nodding her head. "So you've been in therapy before?"

"Yeah. For a couple of months," Anne said, shrugging her shoulders again, looking away towards the window. She didn't like talking like this, because despite the fact that Anne used to read through the dictionary to forget the pain, she didn't know what words to say.

"Why did you stop going?"

"I was fine, and you know, social services," she said, her voice barely above a mumble.

"So, sweetheart, I know this is hard, but can you tell me why you couldn't see Dr. Belk?"

"He just reminded me of someone," Anne said, and she hugged her arms against her chest, suddenly wanting to draw into herself. Still, her shoulders were rigid, and after a brief moment, where her eyes fell to the floor, she met Dr. Wilson's gaze once again.

"Who was it?"

"Just a guy."

"Did this man hurt you?"

"Yeah," Anne said, resisting the urge to roll her eyes, although her tone clearly conveyed her annoyance. "I've met a lot of bad guys."

"Anne, you've been through more trauma than anyone should ever have to go through." Dr. Wilson leaned forward, and Anne could tell that she was genuinely sad over Anne. Most people were. "Have you really ever talked about?"

"Yeah, I told the police everything so they could build a case. And I was a witness in court, so you know, I had to swear an oath," She said.

"I don't mean like that. Have you ever talked about it for your own sake, and not for anyone else?"

"I went to therapy."