Saving Death

Chapter 2

"Maybe I should find someone around here for you to talk to. You know, to help you deal with it all," he offered.

I thought back to my last weeks at school before the holidays, after I'd finally come out of hospital. I'd been referred to the counsellor to talk, but I'm sure it had made everything worse. The pressure to talk was overwhelming and for a traumatised introvert like myself, it was torture. I'd ended up not engaging at all, and I half wondered if, somehow, I'd closed some gateway to my memories. I wished I could have blocked out the entire therapy experience as well...

I'd sat in her tiny beige office on the second floor of the science block. A stiflingly dry summer breeze blew in through the yellowing blinds, sweeping the smell of urine from the boys' toilets through the air. Miss Peters gazed at me curiously, her hands clasped neatly together on the top of her desk. I kept my eyes on my lap and felt nothing.

"You have to let it in, Ava." She had looked at me gravely through tortoise shell rimmed glasses. She was only a few years older than me—maybe in her twenties—and I wondered if she actually knew what she was talking about. I had wanted to ask her if she had ever lost anybody, but thought better of it. My head of year, Mr Furrows, had already spoken to me.

"We're all just trying to help you get back on your feet, Ava. You're a smart girl, and Miss Peters is trying her best to get you ready for your end of year exams—but you have to let her help. Just try, okay?"

I'd held my tongue since then and had become even more stubborn. During our last session, she'd sat back in her chair and sighed in resignation. "I know it's easy for me to say, but you need to do this, Ava. It's not something you can suppress. You can't lock it away and not deal with it." Her hazel gaze bored into mine, imploring me to share my grief with her, but she didn't know that I couldn't let it in because I couldn't remember what happened. To me, my only option was to lock it away and not think about it.

"Ava? You know—a counsellor or something? I know you didn't get on well with the one at your old school but..." I stared at my dad as he continued to prattle on about my experiences with the school counsellor. There was no way I was going through that again. "Let it in, Ava!" Why was everyone in such a rush for me to be "normal" again? I'd done the research myself; grieving was messy. I just needed to plod along and let it take its course. Maybe then, the incidents of that night would all come flooding back with clarity.

Thinking about it made me nervous and I pulled my legs into my chest, hugging them for security. Realising my dad had stopped talking and was now looking at me with something in between sympathy and irritation, I quickly sat up and gave him my best smile.

"No, I'm fine Dad—really I am."

He looked unconvinced and truth be told, so was I. I wondered if I would ever remember what happened. At this thought, a crushing darkness opened up inside me. What if I could never remember? Despite the feeling of dread, I felt glad that I hadn't told anybody about my amnesia. Sharing wouldn't help matters. But then, if I hadn't told anybody, how had he known? My mind was suddenly back in the barn, staring into those deep black eyes.

My dad coughed, bringing me back to the now. I looked at him blankly.

"I just need to catch up on sleep, that's all," I said.

He gazed at me a moment longer before finally letting it go. "Okay," he said with a sigh. "Well, let me know if you change your mind."

I nodded, humouring him.

"I could do with an extra pair of hands on the farm tomorrow, though," he said, leaning over to kiss the top of my head, "So you best get some sleep."