KENZIE
"Are you still ignoring me?"
Silence.
"I got a B on my PE assessment today." I say, hoping to get some sort of reaction out of the man sitting in the drivers seat. This is the first time since being placed with the guys that I have received a grade higher than a C in any of my subjects and I was kind of hoping that they would be as excited about it as I am, however, despite sharing my good news I am once again met by silence in response.
"Oh, come on Chris! You're acting like I killed somebody instead of volunteering you as Nathan's shopping buddy, and from what I heard Nathan didn't even make you go down the health food isle, so I don't know what you're sulking about." I refrain from rolling my eyes at him, knowing that he is sensitive enough about the topic as it is, but seriously I just think he's being drama queen.
The side eye I receive in response only proves my point further, but I couldn't be bothered pressing his buttons any harder than I already have. Chris is probably my main ally out of the three of my guardians and despite the fact that he is acting like a spoilt child, I know that we wouldn't be in this situation if I had simply kept my mouth shut yesterday. I was the one who caused his mood so I need to be the one to fix it.
"I'm sorry, ok? I shouldn't have tossed you to the sharks the way I did, and if you can find it in you to forgive me I promise that I will make it up to you." I say, mentally grimacing at the opportunity I just handed him.
"How are you going to do that?" Chris asks intrigued, my offer of an olive branch enough to break his silence towards me.
"I could make my own lunch for the rest of the week, then you won't have to worry about making sandwiches and packing snacks before you go to work." I suggest, with a hopeful shoulder raise.
"I like packing your lunch, Kenzie." He frowns in response, momentarily taking his eyes off the road in front of him to look at me. "It makes me feel useful."
I have to admit, I have never thought about it the way before. Everyone within the household has their own little things that they do to help keep me safe, healthy and happy while I am living with them. Will, despite still having our clashes is my go to person for advice and he always makes sure that my education is well looked after. Nathan has taken it upon himself to be my protector, confidant and breakfast maker all in one, while James has taken the role of ensuring that my life is filled with fun and laughter, while also doubling as my own personal home psychologist and then there is Mitchell who is the glue which sticks our whole family together.
Chris doesn't seem to have a specific "role" like the others do. Most of the time it seems like he just flutters around the house being a ray of sunshine while stepping in to help wherever he is needed. If packing my lunch for school every day is the only thing he can claim as his then who am I to take that away from him, even if it is only for a week.
"You're very good at it, much better than Nathan and Will." I nod in response, knowing that the added compliment can't hurt my attempt at trying to win back my spot in his good books.
"Oh, I know." Chris replies confidently, mumbling something under his breath about their snack choices being an offence against my human rights.
"Ok then, I'll sit next to you during movie night tonight." I don't sit next to anyone during movie night. Ever. So offering this to him is a big deal.
"On the long part of the lounge?" He asks sceptically, looking over to me again but this time with a disbelieving smile. This offer has obviously piqued his interest and from the slight twitch at the corner of his mouth I can tell that he is about to cave in.
"Yep. I'll swap spots with Mitchell and I won't move until the movie is over." I nod in agreement, somehow finding the courage within myself to be ok with this arrangement. If he had suggested that I sit between him and James on the long piece of lounge I would have declined his idea right away, but if It's just Chris that I am sitting next to and I have the freedom to shift away into my own space if I need to, then I think I can handle this.
"Not even if Nathan tries to bribe you?" He presses again, flicking on his indicator before turning into one of the few empty parking spots outside of Dr Miller's office.
"Not even then." I promise with another nod.
"Hmm. Alright, you strike a hard bargain, but I will think about it." He replies with a thoughtful nod after turning the engine off and pulling the key from the ignition.
Think about it? I don't think so buddy. I have had enough of him skulking around the house like a moody teenager, giving me the silent treatment over something so childish. He doesn't get to think about this for even a second longer.
"Unless you want me to sit next to Nathan or Mitchell instead..." I trail off with an innocent shrug, leaning down to collect my schoolbag from the space at my feet.
"What? No. If you're sitting next to anybody during movie night it's going to be me." Chris backtracks immediately, practically tipping over his words as he tries to get them out.
"Then it's a deal?" I ask, unclipping my seatbelt and turning in my seat to look at him properly.
"It's a deal." He agrees with a decisive nod, shoving his hand out towards me for a shake, but quickly drawing back when he realises his mistake. Considering he has just agreed to end his mood, combined with my current relaxed energy, I decide that it is safe enough for me to initiate contact on this one occasion.
Reaching across the space between us, I gently ruffle the top of Chris's well styled hair, not paying too much notice to the strands that clump together from where he has expertly gelled it to the side. My actions do just enough to make a few rogue tufts of hair stick up at funny angles, but the resounding smile on Chris's face tells me that he is more than ok with my less than adequate styling skills.
"I'll see you later?"
"Sure will cupcake, have a good session." Chris calls out, his beaming smile not once faltering in the Process. I know that if I hadn't been forgiven before, then I definitely am now.
"I'll try." I answer simply, yanking open the door and pulling my backpack over my shoulders once I am outside of the car. Knowing the topic of today's discussion I'm not sure how smoothly things are going to go, but if it helps clear up some of my confusion and draws me closer to making a decision about my mother than I am willing to give it a red hot go.
"Good. Now get in there before you end up late." He says, pointing towards the building as I shut the car door behind me.
"Roger that." I nod, giving him a small wave before making my way towards the main entrance to the office.
Checking in with the receptionist, I am surprised to find Dr Miller already standing in the waiting room. His back is turned towards me and he seems to be collecting some brochures from the large display on the far wall. Hearing me enter the room, Dr Miller turns his head over his shoulder, a friendly smile lighting up his face as his eyes land on me.
"Hello Kenzie. How are you today?"
"Good thank you. How about you?" I respond out of habit, tucking my hair behind my ears as I do.
"I've had a wonderful day thank you and you're my last appointment for the afternoon so that makes it even better." He responds cordially, bunching the colourful brochures together in his hand before stepping away from the display unit. I don't know how to respond to his answer so I simply nod in agreement and wait for him to make the next move.
"Well, I think I've got what I need from out here so why don't you come on through and we will get this session underway." He tilts his head in the direction of his office before gesturing with his free hand for me to follow him out of the waiting area.
The sound of our shoes tapping against the hard timber floor fills my ears as we make our way towards his office and it isn't until we are safely inside the familiar open room that I begin to realise just what we are going to be talking about today. Our last session together may have been a success, but I get the feeling that this time around may not be smooth sailing for either of us.
Like always, Dr Miller allows me to choose where I want to sit before taking the remaining couch opposite me. Out of routine, I resume position in the same space I always do, placing my backpack on the floor next to the comfortable lounge before leaning back into the cushions beneath me.
"I know you wanted to talk about your mother today Kenzie, but there are a couple of things I wanted to run past you first, if that's ok with you?" Dr Miller asks as he adjusts himself into a more comfortable position in his seat.
"Ok, that's fine."
"Wonderful. So first of all, after the discussions we had during our last session I did a little bit of research on your behalf and came across a scholarship program that I thought you might be interested in. Applications closed a week ago, but I called the organisation hosting the award and after considering your circumstances they have agreed to allow you a brief extension to submit your application."
A scholarship?
"Aren't those sorts of things only reserved for people who are smart?" I ask feeling unsure as to whether I am worthy enough to be considered for anything like this. I can't even read or write properly so I don't see how I could qualify for a scholarship.
"Well, a lot of scholarships are based on academic achievement, however there are a few out there that are aimed at people who need that extra little bit of help in getting where they need to be. The founder of the organisation who developed this particular scholarship wanted the money to assist young people like yourself who have suffered significant hardship and who may have experienced difficulties with their education as a result." Dr Miller explains, gently tapping the edge of his pen against the top of his notepad as he speaks.
"I didn't know that such a thing even existed." I admit in surprise.
In all my years of life no one has ever mentioned this type of opportunity to me, then again, no one ever really knew that I was struggling academically until only very recently. It's not that I am desperate for the prize money that is being offered, even though it would be nice to have a couple of hundred dollars to lean back on if needed, but if there is someone out there who needs or deserves the scholarship more than I do then I wouldn't be disappointed if they won it instead.
"I had a feeling that might have been the case, but that's what I'm here for."
"No it's not. You're meant to be here to help me with my psychological issues, you didn't have to go out of your way to help me with this." I counter, pointing out the obvious.
"You're right, but I wanted to do this for you. I was talking to William over the weekend and he said that you were looking into a TVET course next year. Generally those types of courses carry a bit of a price tag with them so I think the twenty thousand dollars being offered through the scholarship will be more than enough to cover the courses you are seeking to undertake."
Twenty thousand dollars? He's joking right?
"That's a lot of money." If you ask me, that's too much money for anybody to just simply give away.
"Yes, but like I said, this scholarship is meant to benefit people who may not have the financial means to meet the costs of their studies so it makes sense that the sum being offered is quite significant."
"I don't have to write a million word essay, or save ten ducklings from being squished by a car during a solar eclipse, or chop off my left arm to be eligible?" Because that is practically what the eligibility criteria is for most of the other scholarships I have heard of in the past. If you aren't super smart or super talented at something then you have next to no chance at ever winning a scholarship.
"No Kenzie, you get to keep all your limbs for this application." Dr Miller responds with an amused chuckle. "In fact, I have a copy of the application form right here and I was thinking that we could fill it out and send it off before the end of our session."
If I were successful in obtaining this scholarship it would mean that Nathan, Will and Chris wouldn't have to dig into their own pockets to assist in paying for the extra courses I am hoping to complete. Even though I am not entirely comfortable with the idea of being gifted such a large sum of money, I have to admit that the twenty thousand dollars could make a world of difference to my education.
"I'd like that, Dr Miller." I nod in acceptance, lifting my feet up onto the couch so that I am sitting cross legged in front of him. The position is more comfortable and I get the feeling that it is going to take more than just a couple of minutes to complete the application.
I am proven right when Dr Miller spends the best part of the next twenty minutes reading the questions out loud to me while writing down my responses as I say them. The application wasn't difficult at all and by the time Dr Miller has finished writing down my last answer, I actually find myself feeling excited by the prospect of winning this scholarship. Optimism isn't usually my strong suit, but from the way Dr Miller has been talking it sounds like I might actually stand a chance at being considered.
There are a brief few moments of quiet as Dr Miller takes the application form over to his desk on the other side of the room for safe keeping, but the peaceful moment doesn't last for long as the moment he reclaims his spot on the couch across from me, I am instantly slapped with a question that I hadn't been expecting.
"How have you been sleeping, Kenzie? You seem a bit more tired than usual today." Dr Miller comments as he collects his notepad from the coffee table between us and rests it on his knee.
I didn't sleep again last night. The familiar plague of nightmares descended on me from the moment I had closed my eyes, and after only fifteen minutes of sleep I was once again awake, quivering in fear as the monsters from my dreams continued to haunt my wakeful thoughts.
I had briefly considered going to James for help, but decided against it when I remembered how tired he was after the last time I bothered him with my nightmares. He shouldn't have to suffer as a result of my problems regardless of whether or not he is qualified to assist me.
As if reading my mind, Dr Miller continues his current line of questioning only this time he skips past the easy bits and tosses me straight into the swirling bottomless pit of the deep end without any floaties to protect me.
"James told me that you have been experiencing a higher volume of nightmares than normal and I wanted to know if you have given any further consideration to the Mental Health Plan I had originally proposed for you some months ago."
Back when I first started consulting with Dr Miller, he had suggested that I start taking daily anti-depressants to help me cope with my anxiety and constant mood swings. Nathan, Will and Chris were all on board with this plan, but I could never quite convince myself that it was a good idea and seeing my discomfort with this proposal, they never forced me to accept Dr Millers recommendation.
I think part of the reason why I am so against the idea of taking the anti-depressants is because I am scared that they are going to change my ability to feel things. I have heard of some cases where these drugs have rendered the consumers numb to their emotions, and I don't want to be reduced to a thoughtless, feelingless zombie, even if the medicines do slow down the chaotic movement of thoughts in my mind.
Then there is another part of me that is terrified of the drugs actually working. I promised myself years ago that I would never become one of those people that turned to drugs or alcohol to solve my problems, and I am worried that if I try these medications and they do work, that I won't want to give them up, even if I don't necessarily need them anymore.
"I don't want to do that. I don't want to have to depend on sleeping pills and anti-depressants for the rest of my life." I answer honestly, twisting my fingers together on my lap in discomfort.
Dr Miller seems unsurprised by my response, almost as if he had anticipated my anxiety in advance, but my refusal to accept his suggestion does nothing to convince him to give in, if anything it only seems to ignite his urge to persuade me even further.
"You see this here?" Dr Miller asks, rifling around the manilla file on the coffee table in search of something before pulling out a familiar sheet of paper. "This isn't manageable, Kenzie." He says holding up my mind map so that I can see it clearly. There have been several little bits and pieces added since the day I actually drew it up, so now there is barely and spare space to write anything else.
"A lot of the things you have written down on this sheet of paper stem from this deep-rooted anxiety you hold within you, and the majority of the inflated feelings you experience as a result of this anxiety can be easily quashed with the proper and controlled use of anti-depressants such as the ones we have previously talked about.
I understand that it doesn't sound appealing or desirable to you, and rightfully so, there is nothing glamorous about mental illness or having to take medications for them, but I really believe that this could really make a difference to your recovery." He says, leaning forward in his chair as he does his best to persuade me against my current mindset.
There is a stretch of continuous silence on my end as I desperately try to think of a way to tell him for a second time that I'm not interested without coming across as an ungrateful bitch, but Dr Miller must mistake my quietness for genuine consideration of the matter which seems to spur him into action once again.
"Put it this way Kenzie, if we can take away all those feelings that consume you every moment of the day or even just mute them to an extent, I believe that not only will you feel more relaxed and comfortable on a general level, but you will also find that you have a better chance of working through your trauma and eventually finding some peace, which is ultimately what we are here for isn't it?"
It is, but there is still this nagging little voice at the back of my head telling me that this is a bad idea. I have been living in a constant state of fear for the last ten years, my instincts being the only source of guidance at my disposal while trying to navigate the scary world of foster care.
That fear is what has kept me alive for all this time. Without it, I don't know how to survive.
"Even now, you are overthinking this Kenzie. You are living in a good home with people who care about you and who want the very best for you in life. There is no judgment or threat of danger hanging over your head and you have a support network that is willing to stick with you no matter how challenging the circumstances are.
That being said, this is the perfect opportunity for you to start experimenting with different techniques and strategies to help you cope with the various symptoms you have been experiencing."
I don't want to believe it, but on some level I know that he is right. I am overthinking this, but how can I stop? Uncertainty is one of my greatest fears in life and it takes more than just a few words of encouragement to overcome something that has been so strongly ingrained in every fibre of my being for so long.
"I don't want to be any more messed up than I already am." I confess while staring down at my intertwined fingers, the tips of which have turned a deep red colour from where I have been squeezing them so hard.
"I understand that you might have some concerns, and it's perfectly ok for you to be hesitant toward this, but you need to remember that these medications were developed to help people, not hurt them. If I thought you were going to have some sort of serious adverse reaction I wouldn't be suggesting this at all, but it is getting to the point now where your physical heath is beginning to decline and I can't, in good faith, continue to allow things to continue the way they have been any longer."
"So where does that leave us?" I ask feeling slightly uneasy by his declaration. The tone of his voice makes it sound like he is about to drop some sort of ultimatum on me and I'm not ready to deal with the consequences that might bring.
"Well, I can't force you to take these medications and neither can your guardians, however what I am going to do is give your social worker a prescription to be filled out in the event that you do decide to give them a try. What I want you to do in the meantime is to have a good hard think about the benefits and drawbacks of taking anti-depressants, I'm sure James would be more than willing to answer any questions you might have about them if you don't want to wait to discuss it with me.
Do some of your own research if you feel like that is going to help you make a more informed decision, but at the end of the day Kenzie, you need to ask yourself exactly what you are willing to do to help yourself."
"Say I do go away and do my own digging into the topic, if I came back to you and my answer was still no would you stop consulting me as one of your patients?"
He seems slightly startled by my abrupt question, but he is quick to do his best to ease my growing feelings of trepidation by answering in a way that only Dr Miller seems to know how to.
"Absolutely not, but with that said, if your case workers at the fostering agency were to request a report on your progress, I would have to give them my honest feedback and I can't be certain that they wouldn't take the necessary steps to ensure your medical needs are met, whether you like what they propose or not."
"I thought that nobody was allowed to make medical decisions on my behalf without the consent of my biological parents." I frown in confusion.
"That is true, however there was a court order put in place at the time you were removed from their care that has allowed a special exemption to this rule. As a result, the state has full authority to make decisions regarding your medical treatment without requiring your parent's consent." Dr Miller explains, carefully scrutinising my reaction.
Well fuck.
"So what you're saying is that this entire conversation is practically a giant waste of time and it doesn't matter what I want because I don't get a say in what happens either way?" I respond with huff, my annoyance seeping through a little bit more with each word.
Sensing that this conversation is taking a sour turn, Dr Miller instantly tries to defuse the situation before it can escalate any further and I get too swept up in my emotions to positively contribute to the rest of the session. It wouldn't be the first time that my mood swings have ruined our progress and I don't want today's appointment to be added to the list.
"It's not a waste of time Kenzie. I want you to be able to make an informed decision about your own medical needs and in order to do that, you need to know what you are up against. You might be a minor in the eyes of the government, but you are old enough now to have some autonomy when it comes to these decisions.
I want you to trial these medications of your own free will because it is something you feel comfortable in trying and you trust my opinion as your treating psychiatrist, not because somebody else is telling you that you have to. Your case worker might be able to order that you take these medications, but that doesn't mean that you aren't going to flush them down the toilet each day."
His words are frank and to the point, something that I am still trying to get used to, but at the same time I am grateful for his direct approach. I know I probably shouldn't have become so defensive over the issue, but if anybody else were in my position right now, I'm sure they would be feeling more than a bit pissed off too.
"I need some time to think about this further." I say, rubbing my fingers against my temples to release some of the stress that has built up as a result of this conversation. I wasn't expecting to be ambushed by this topic today and I don't want to waste any more of either of our time arguing about something that I am not ready to discuss.
"I think that's a good idea. How about I go and get you some water and we will move this conversation on to another topic? I have some information brochures for you to read at home anyway and as I said before it would be good for you to do some of your own research before we discuss this again." Dr Miller suggests, standing up from his couch when I offer him a strained nod in return.
He disappears from the room for a couple of minutes, allowing me the precious space I need to get my shit together again, before returning with an unopened bottle of water. I thank him as he passes me the disposable plastic bottle and down about half the contents before replacing the cap again. The water combined with the brief pause in conversation does enough to soothe my rising anxiety, and its only when I signal to Dr Miller that I am ready to continue that he attempts to re-establish our session, only this time pursuing a different topic.
"Are you still up to discussing your mother, or would you like to wait until our next session?" Dr Miller asks, pushing his glasses further up the bridge of his nose like he usually does when he is about to discuss something serious.
"No, I want to do this now. I have had a lot of time to think about this since our last session and I have a lot of questions that I can't hang onto any longer." I answer with a confident nod. This is what I have been waiting for all week and I'm not going to let anything get in the way of my pursuit for answers.
"I'm not sure how much of a help I am going to be in this discussion, but I will endeavour to share with you what I believe you can handle under the circumstances."
I'll take it. Even if he won't tell me everything, any information I can get my hands on is better than the steaming piles of nothing I have managed to find on my own so far.
"Is there anything you can tell me about my mother that will help me paint a picture of her life?" Not having any real memories of her has made the process of piecing my childhood together harder and I was hoping that if I could get some sort of general idea of what type of life my parents had lived before I was removed from their custody, then I might be able to better understand how my life got to this point.
Were my mother and father well off, or were they struggling to make ends meet? Do I have more family out there that know about me, or were they always estranged from their parents and siblings, if they even had any? These things may seem irrelevant to everybody else, but to me they are crucial pieces of information that could have a major impact on the way I view my parents' actions towards me.
"Have you sought clarification from your guardians about this topic?" Dr Miller enquires, inclining his head slightly making his glasses slide back down his nose.
"Not since before that meeting with Amanda and Chelsea. But, they weren't very forthcoming with answers the million other times I have tried asking them about my family, so I don't think that they would be of much assistance if I were to ask again.
Even if they were to provide more details about my family now, I don't know that I would be able to trust that what they tell me is the whole, unfiltered story. It's not that I think that they would lie to me, but I also feel like this subject is too personal for them and I don't want my understanding of the matter to be tainted by somebody else's opinions, no matter how well intended their thoughts are." This is something I have to decide for myself and as much as I value their guidance and support, I don't want to discount my own feelings towards the subject based on the feelings of someone else.
Nathan, Will and Chris have all demonstrated on multiple occasions how protective they can be over me and I am worried that their need to shelter me from emotional harm will overshadow my need to understand the truth. I am grateful for their concern, I really am, but I'm tired of fearing my future due to missing pieces of my past.
"Your maturity astounds me sometimes, Kenzie." Dr Miller muses with a thoughtful expression.
"Ben is always telling me that I have an old soul, so I guess it comes with the territory." I shrug half heartedly in response.
"Well you do have an alter that is four times your age, so I shouldn't be too surprised by the way you handle these types of discussions. Although, I can't give Serenity all of the credit for your mature nature as you yourself seem to have acquired this trait from your own experiences in life."
Well he's not wrong. I have had to grow up way before anybody else my age in order to survive in the lifestyle I was thrown into as a young child. You can't be a naive little kid in a world where monsters disguise themselves as your everyday average Joe.
"I suppose so."
"But back to the subject at hand, I understand your concerns when it comes to finding reliable sources of information and I am glad that you have expressed this issue with me. With that said, I will be completely honest and say that I have a fairly comprehensive understanding of your childhood and the life you lived prior to the events that lead to your parent's being incarcerated. However, I am not willing to divulge all of those details on the basis that by doing so could cause you significant emotional distress and possibly trigger your alters as a result." Dr Miller explains slowly, wanting me to be aware of his reasoning so that I don't get worked up again.
"I understand, I just need to know enough to figure out where I stand if my mother does get parole. I'm not picky about what you give me, but I'm trusting you to be as unbiased as you possibly can be because this is a big deal to me and I don't want to live the rest of my life with the type of regrets that this decision could create if I choose wrong."
Dr Miller nods along as I speak, indicating that he is listening to what I am saying and that action alone does a little bit to ease some of my worry. The worst case scenario to come out of this conversation is that he refuses to share anything at all, because then I would have to go through with my Plan B, however now that Dr Miller has confirmed his intention to assist me with my enquiries I don't feel as stressed out about it as I did before.
"That's a fair expectation to have of me Kenzie and I intend to be as forthcoming with answers as I possibly can. Regret is a horrible emotion to be burdened by and I don't want that to be added to the pile of things you already have on your plate."
"That makes two of us." I agree, rolling the plastic water bottle between my palms while holding back a sigh of relief.
"I know you asked me for some background regarding your mother's life, but in order for me to give you the right information I need to know what parts of your story you already have. So do you think you could tell me what you remember of her?" Dr Miller asks.
"I don't remember a great deal." I admit with a sigh as I fidget with the lid of the water bottle. I don't even know her name so it seems unlikely that I have anything else about her that is useful rattling around in my brain.
"Well at this stage you seem to be fairly open to the idea of seeing her again, so I am assuming that the memories you do have of her aren't entirely unpleasant." Dr Miller prompts before patiently waiting for me to share something further.
"In a way you are right, but it's also really difficult for me to explain." I agree with a slow nod, not bothering to lift my eyes from the bottle cap which I have screwed and unscrewed about four times now. "I don't have a great deal of context to fall back on when I experience these flashbacks so I can't be certain that I have interpreted the memories the way they should have been."
"That's alright Kenzie, these are your memories and there is no right or wrong way for you to remember them. Regardless of whether there is context or not, I would much rather hear what you have to say about your mother than what is written in the police reports."
"You probably already know that she wasn't the most attentive or affectionate of mothers, so I don't think I need to recount that part, but she wasn't always distant towards me."
Most of my memories are of her giving me too much attention.
"From what little I do remember she was always obsessed with the way I looked, and if they wanted to play dress ups with me and I refused or the outfit didn't look the way they wanted it to, then it was somehow my fault."
"When you say your parents wanted to "play dress ups" what do you mean?" Dr Miller asks, a slight frown creasing his brow as he waits for my answer.
"They used to have all these different outfits that they would get me to wear and sometimes they would make me do a little fashion parade thingy to show them off." I shrug in response, not understanding why he finds this interesting. Lots of little girls play dress ups when they are children, how is this any different?
"Do you remember what any of the outfits were that they got you to try on?"
"I don't know, I can't really remember anything specific, but I do remember some of the outfits being really tight and uncomfortable." Especially when I was made to wear them for several hours at a time.
"Did you like playing dress ups with your parents?" Dr Miller asks as he scrawls down copious notes on his notepad.
"No, not really. Like I said before, if the outfit they chose out for me wasn't perfect then they would get really upset and most times if they were upset then they wouldn't want to spend time with me." I answer nervously, picking at the label on the side of the bottle.
"And what would they do if the outfit was perfect?" He presses, looking up from his notepad with an emotionless stare. In a way this process feels like an interrogation, but if being open with my answers convinces him to share more information with me then I can suck it up, even if the intensity of his questions make me feel slightly uneasy.
"Then they would spend hours taking millions of photos of me. I guess they just wanted their photo albums to be perfect because every time they got the photos they wanted, they would shower me with love and attention and tell me how perfect I was." Or at least, mum would. Dad would always disappear shortly after and I wouldn't see him again until the next time they wanted me to dress up or their friends came over.
"How old were you when this dress up game started?"
"I was maybe three or four?" The truth is it could have been at any stage of my childhood, but I do know that once it started, it didn't stop. "Why are you asking all of these questions anyway?" I ask while spinning the water bottle in a circle to make the water inside swirl like a vortex.
"I'm sorry Kenzie, I'm just trying to get an understanding of what you experienced so that I can find the most appropriate way to answer your questions." Dr Miller apologises, rubbing the edge of his jaw with his free hand.
"Oh. Well, there isn't a great deal else that I can tell you about her. Most of my memories are of... other things." I say stopping myself short before I overshare and inadvertently tell him about the subject of my most sacred memories.
"Other things?"
"Yep, you know, just random stuff." I answer with what I hope is a convincing shrug. "Can I ask you a question now?"
"I think that's fair." Dr Miller nods in agreement, lifting his pen back to his notepad in readiness of my enquiry.
"Why did my parents try to kill me? Did I do something wrong?" Did they finally have enough of my bad behaviour and decide to get rid of me for good, or was it an accident? Maybe they didn't know it was me that they were attacking.
From the multiple flashbacks I have experienced over the past few months I have learnt that I was never really a good child. My parents always made it clear that this was the case, especially when I would refuse to do as I was told, which if the majority of the flashbacks I have had so far are anything to go by would be more often than not.
"You never did anything wrong to deserve what your parents did to you Mackenzie. There are a lot of people who would try to say that their attempt to kill you was laced with malicious intent, but knowing what I do about the events that occurred I believe that you were merely just a witness that they had to dispose of in order to remain undetected by the police. The court saw it the same way."
"So they didn't try to kill me because I was bad?"
There were a few memories that I had uncovered where my mother would lay there, stroking my hair as she told me I was the most precious thing that she had in her life. Of course, I am never offered any context other than the knowledge that what I remembered was real, but those tiny flashes of memory are enough to make me believe that my mother didn't completely hate me, or at least not enough to want to murder me.
Why would she want to kill me if I was so precious to her? It doesn't make any sense.
"What makes you think that you were a "bad child", Kenzie?" Dr Miller asks instead of answering my question directly.
"Well, if I was a good child surely my parents would have spent more time with me, right? They would have let me leave the house more and they would have let me see the...my friends" I was about to tell him about the man from my memories again, but I stop myself just in time. Dr Miller gives me a strange look as if noticing my slip up, but I ignore the silent question in his eyes and plough forward with my answer.
"If I was good then Santa would have left me presents at Christmas, but I never got anything so that means that I never behaved well enough to deserve the type of gifts other kids received. Everyone knows that Santa doesn't visit bad children so it must be true."
The only people who have ever given me presents are the guys at home when it was my birthday and the man from my memories who gifted me Rosemary the lamb. Other than that, presents have been a thing of non-existence for me and the thought that all of the other kids I had grown up around as a child had bragged about the presents they got from Santa only solidifies my thoughts further.
Hearing the name come out of my own mouth feels strange and before I get the chance to continue with my explanation I am engulfed by another snippet of my forgotten memories.
"If you can wait just a few more weeks, I promise to give you the best present in the whole wide world." My favourite person grins as he crouches down in front of me so that we are at the same height.
"Really?"
"Yep, but you have to promise me that you won't tell anyone about this. Not even your mummy and daddy." He whispers the last part as if he is afraid that somebody else can hear him besides me.
"I pinky swear, can you tell me what it is?" I ask as I stick my little finger out between us and lock it around his much larger one. Mummy and daddy don't like it when I talk to them anyway so keeping this a secret will be easy peasy.
"I can't tell you because it's a top secret surprise, but I have been speaking to someone very important for a while now and I have a really good feeling that things are going to go the way I planned."
"Were you talking to Santa?" I ask in complete awe. Only grown ups can speak to Santa and the idea that he had spoken to the elusive man in red makes him seem even bigger than life.
"Maybe, maybe not, but the person I spoke to said that this year he can give us both a present that is better than anything you could possibly imagine." He answers before booping the tip of my nose with his pointer finger, making me scrunch my face up like the cartoon rabbit in the movie our teacher put on the other day. "All you have to do is be really good while you wait for me to pick you up again. Do you think you can do that, sweet pea?"
"I don't know, daddy says that I'm always bad." I don't want him to miss out on the present he got for us because I wasn't good like he told me to be.
"Listen to me, baby. Your daddy was lying to you, you are a good girl. Don't ever listen when he tries to tell you otherwise. I know things may not be so great right now, but everything is going to get better, you just wait and see." He says, crouching down to my height and holding either side of my face with both of his big hands.
"Promise?" I ask placing both of my hands on top of his, trapping him in place until he answers the question. A promise isn't a promise until it is spoken out loud and once it is made by him it is unbreakable.
"I promise." He vows quietly, his vibrant eyes never once leaving mine as we hold on to each other, neither one of us wanting to let go.
My arms tuck themselves tight around my stomach as a grenade of emotion explodes inside me. Where there had once been warmth, my body feels like it has been plummeted into an ice bath and if you weren't paying close attention, the slight wobble of my lower lip could almost be mistaken as a shiver.
"Mackenzie? Are you alright?" Dr Miller's voice pulls me out of the fuzzy remnants of the memory and it takes me a couple of seconds to gain my bearings before I can bring myself to answer his question.
"Yeah, I'm ok." I nod in response even though I'm not really ok. I don't know what that flashback was, but the strange feeling of sadness that engulfs me as a result of the memory really throws me off balance.
"I think we should come back to this topic again at our next session. It's almost time for you to be picked up and I think that we have covered more than enough on this topic for one day." He suggests as he observes the sudden deterioration in my composure. The majority of my flashbacks, whether good or bad, take a major toll on me and this one seems to be hitting a little bit harder than most.
"No. I haven't finished answering the question." I still have a million of my own questions to ask and I feel like I hardly got any answers to the ones I did get to raise. Plus, answering this particular question is important as I don't know what type of stuff Dr Miller has been told about my mother, but I feel it is necessary to ensure that he knows my mother wasn't entirely to blame for the way she raised me, because if I had been a good child my mother wouldn't have needed to be so harsh in the first place.
"It's alright Kenzie, you don't have to answer the rest of the question. You have given me more than enough information to understand your mindset on this particular issue and I don't want you to push yourself too far too quickly." Dr Miller places his note pad and pen on the edge of the coffee table as he speaks, making it clear that he is no longer participating in this discussion.
"No, I need to figure this out now, we're running out of time and I'm not even close to making a decision." I shake my head in disagreement, dropping the water bottle into my lap as my hands reach up to push my hair behind my ears.
"We have plenty of time to discuss your mother Kenzie. Her parole hearing isn't for another two weeks and even if she is successful, it would still take the court at least another month to consider her application for visitation, and that's not even including the Christmas shut down period." His words are what I need to hear, but the sharp sense of urgency that has been spurring me on since the meeting with Amanda doesn't decrease with his reassurance.
My head is shaking on its own, silently telling him that I want to continue talking, but its no use. Dr Miller has already voiced his concerns and as much as I want him to ignore my pleas to continue, I know I have to trust his professional opinion. If he says that we will have time to talk about this again at our next session, then all I can do is make sure that he stays true to his word.
"For now, you should just go home, take some time to process everything we have talked about today and when you come back on Thursday we can re-visit the topic with a clearer mind set." He adds with a small smile, hoping that his actions will do that little bit extra to convince me to agree.
With a reluctant nod of my head, I sigh in defeat as I see no way to change his mind. truthfully, I probably do need the time to process what just happened, but the sharp pang of emotion that unexpectedly released itself on me from the flashback has clouded my ability to think logically about this.
Dr Miller excuses himself to make the call home to Chris or Nathan who are probably already arguing over who is going to pick me up like they usually do, but instead of focusing on his disappearance, I find my mind wandering back to the latest piece of memory that has revealed itself from the steel vault it has been trapped inside.
What could he possibly have given me that could be considered the best present in the world? And why would he make me promise not to tell my parents about it? Would they have tried to sabotage his gift, or was there something else that he was worried about them finding out?
Thinking back on it now, obviously this gift never came to fruition because if it had, surely the best part of my memories would be here with me right now and if it was as good as he said it would be, then we would both have been somewhat happy about it. Instead, I have spent the last ten years without any memories and in the last place I would have ever wanted to be.
All of these thoughts lead me to believe that somehow his promise was never fulfilled, and if that is the case then I don't know if I can ever trust anyone to keep their promises again, because if the man from my memories could break his promise, then surely everybody else could too.
Hello lovely readers :)
Thank you for being so patient with me while I have tried to finish this update. I found it extremely difficult to write this chapter. I don't have any experience with psychologists or how they would approach the type of conversation that was addressed by Kenzie and Dr Miller so this entire scenario is completely made up from my imagination. I'm sorry to anybody who finds this chapter too unrealistic, but please just remember that this is all a work of fiction and like any other fictional story there are going to be things that aren't entirely accurate.
Thank you to everyone who has read, voted and commented since the last update, I appreciate you all and I hope that you enjoyed the chapter :)
Stay safe and have a wonderful day/night :)