A week in Granny's house

Chapter 12: A psychiatrist visit and more tears

"So, tell me again what happened."

The voice of the psychiatrist was almost hypnotic, but not boring; it was just so soothing.

"Well," I started, "it all started when I was born—"

We laughed, and then he said, "Lily, I meant what happened those few nights ago."

"Right," I said. "I woke up back in that bedroom. It was exactly like I remembered it, and not a detail muddled."

"Describe it. Describe to me the bedroom."

"It was dark. The wood was dark. The bed was mostly wood, and it was uncomfortable because of it. The table had that same carving on it, and not a single thing changed about it."

"And it said?"

"Five days," I answered, breathing deeply as I did so. "Anyway, I walked out. Grandmother wasn't home, and I knew because of a letter that she left on the door. But anyway, I got injured when I walked into the attic and fell though the floor."

I hadn't even gotten to the bad parts yet, and yet I was already starting to sweat and my eyes started to water. I breathed a few times and continued telling him what I remembered with as much detail as my mind could remember.

After an hour of explaining everything that happened in that house, the psychiatrist looked up at me from his clipboard—no doubt had absolutely nothing written on it—and asked, "And what happened to the car?"

"Got taken to impound," I answered. "I was told that it got taken to the car crusher afterwards."

***

I exited the office and got to my car. When I got there, I entered it and cried. I cried because I was scared, because I had been getting psychiatric help since graduation and yet it didn't help, and because he sent another prescription request to my doctor and I knew it was futile.

"No, breathe," I told myself as I started the car and drove home, where I locked all my doors and windows and laid down on my bed until tomorrow.

***

The chapter may be short, but not to worry! I'll make sure the next chapter is longer (NO PROMISES, however).