the well- trixya

eight

They sat the rest of the movie with their hearts in their heads and their fingers interlocked. Once the credits had began to roll, and the rest of the viewers began to leave the theater, Katya and Trixie were still sitting in their seats.

"You kissed me," Katya said blissfully.

"I did!" Trixie was excited and felt there was no point in hiding it. She was a closeted lesbian who finally kissed a pretty girl for the first time in her life. "Was that alright?"

Katya smiled and kissed Trixie again. "Yes," she exclaimed. "I thought you were straight."

"Surprise," Trixie said playfully. She was giddier than a kid in a candy store.

Katya lightly punched Trixie's arm and feigned betrayal. She was still uncertain if all of this had just been one long, perfect dream, or if the gorgeous popular girl had really kissed her. Had there been signs she had been ignoring? Had there been moments that this could've happened before, but she had ignored? Katya wasn't sure. She was just happy that Trixie liked her, too, and she was finally happy that her mother had made her go to that stupid therapy session.

After the credits finished and the lights began to turn back on, the girls finally decided to leave and go for a drive. They made a playlist together that consisted of a healthy mix of country and slow pop songs. The two girls tastes combined.

"It's really nice to have a friend who knows what happened," Katya said, "and you don't judge me for it."

Trixie grinned. "I would never judge you. You know what happened with me, I know what happened with you," she voiced.

"None of the friends I've had have ever known about my anxiety," Katya admitted.

Trixie sat in amazement for a moment. How? It's not like you hide it. "It must be liberating to finally have someone who knows."

Katya smiled, feeling her heart grow fonder. "It is! It's really cool to not have to pretend to be something I'm not." I don't have to pretend to be normal.

"How long have you had anxiety?"

"Since I was like eight. I'm not sure how it started, but one day I just started feeling sick and anxious all the time at the smallest things. I've only been seeing my therapist for about a year, though."

Only. Trixie hated seeing her therapist. She hated someone knowing exactly how she ticked and why she didn't everything she did. The weekly meetings drudged on and on and made hours feel like ages.

"I'm on some anti-anxiety meds now, though," Katya said again.

"Do they help you?" It doesn't seem like they do.

Katya frowned and looked down at her feet. "Not really. I tell my mom and my therapist they do, though," she paused. "I feel like such a burden I'd rather not have to change again."

"Kitty," Trixie said. The nickname has evolved from the nickname 'Kat,' and it had stuck since the first time Trixie called her that. "You're not a burden."

"Yes, I am," Katya said blankly. "After everything happened with Dela, my family was receiving so much hate constantly. My dad left because of it. My mom fell apart- she's better now though. But it's my fault he left, I don't want to push anything too hard."

Trixie frowned, unsure of what to say or do. Her life was hard, but at the end of the day, she had never experience anything like Katya did. Her life seemed infinitely harder than Trixie's did, and for a little while, that brought her back into her manipulation fantasy. Her desire to feel better about herself via using someone who felt worse.

"That sounds awful," she said. "My dad left, too, but it was when I was three. I don't remember him."

Katya chuckled and rolled her eyes. "I wish I had that luxury." As soon as Katya said it, she regretted it. Trixie turned up the volume in the car as the two of them sat silently.

Trixie thought about her family. About how her mother left an abusive husband, Trixie's father, after years of upset and disdain. How her mother remarried when Trixie was ten. And how, since then, things have only gotten worse. Trixie's mother didn't want to leave another abusive husband. Not again.

Katya thought about how, right after Dela passed, all anyone did was tell her how awful she was. How all of her friends ostracized her. How when she was first diagnosed with anxiety as a child, her father said it was bullshit. How when she fell face-first into the doldrums, her father pushed her deeper in. And then he left. Without a sound, without a note, without a goodbye to Yekaterina. She got nothing. No closure, no sliver of hope.

"I'm sorry," Katya mumbled. "I didn't mean that."

"I know." Trixie sighed. "I know you didn't."

"Hey Trix?"

Trixie looked over into Katya's icy blue eyes, finding herself lost in them. They pulled her in, and much like the ocean, the refused to spit her out. Katya's eyes were a riptide.

"Trixie, there's a car!" Was all she could yell before everything went black.