chapter 6. only fools
warnings: it's the therapy chapter, guys. there will be talk/themes of trauma, ptsd, anxiety attacks, nightmares etc. also mostly unedited.
♥
"SO, tell me about these nightmares you're having."
"Well, they're usually pretty much the same," Max said. Her hand was tracing the spot on her thigh where her dagger had been strapped to the night before. She had to admit that one advantage skirts had over pants was that it was significantly easier to hide a dagger underneath them. She had to keep it in her bag now, which wasn't nearly as easy to access. "I'm always in this dark forest, and I... have this feeling that I'm in danger. Like there's something, or... someone, hiding behind the trees."
"But you don't know what?" asked Archie.
Max shook her head. "No, I have no idea. And whatever it is, it never shows itself."
"And what's the other recurring imagery?"
"Well... water. I see a really big ocean, and sometimes I feel water streaming around me. My hands start... shaking a lot. And then," Max swallowed, "there's the sound of a little boy screaming."
"A little boy screaming? Is it Henry?" Archie asked.
Max decidedly shook her head. "No, it's not Henry. But I have this feeling that I know who it is, but I just can't," Max took a deep breath, and the slightest chuckle escaped her, "remember. Every time I feel like I get closer to discovering his identity... but it never happens."
"And what does his scream sound like?"
Max swallowed. "What do you mean?"
"Well, I mean, is it a scream of joy? Pain? Or horror?"
Her hands were shaking again, tears gathering in the corner of her eyes. "His scream sounds like..." she took a deep breath once more, trying her best to calm herself. "He sounds like he's dying."
Whatever answer Dr. Hopper had expected, it seemed that wasn't it. Shock and sympathy were woven into his expression. Max needed to change the subject before he attempted to comfort her.
"And then, there's my panic attacks," she said.
Archie blinked. "Yes, of course. When do they happen?"
"They're usually... they're often triggered by things that remind me of my dreams. Like walking in the forest at night, or even just thinking about them sometimes."
"And during these anxiety attacks, do you see and hear the same things as in your dreams?"
Max nodded.
"And do you ever, aside from the anxiety attacks, see these things when you're awake as well? Sort of like vivid flashbacks?"
Max nodded again. "Yeah, how did you know?"
Dr. Hopper forced a tight smile. "Just a routine question. Could I ask some more of those?" he asked, and upon Max's confirmation, he continued, "Do you feel detached from others around you or have difficulty maintaining close relationships?"
"Yes, to both," she said, finding her answer reasonable since the only close relationship she'd ever had was with Henry.
"Do you have negative thoughts about yourself and the world?"
"Yes."
"Do you often feel emotionally numb and have difficulty experiencing positive emotions?"
"Yes."
"Do you drink or smoke?"
Max's eyebrows rose. "I'm thirteen," she snarked.
"Well, that doesn't stop everyone."
"No."
"Do you have any trouble concentrating?"
"Only my whole life," Max scoffed, watching Dr. Hopper write her answers down. "So, what's your theory, then?"
Archie looked back up from his notepad. "Excuse me?"
Max raised her eyebrows once more, unimpressed. "Those aren't regular 'routine questions', they're routine questions for the theory you have. Now, spill."
"Well, it's much too early to do a proper diagnosis."
Max groaned. "Don't you think I know that? But isn't someone usually informed about any thoughts and theories you have before you diagnose them? I know I'm only 13, but it's not like I have any family around. So just spit it out. I can fucking handle it."
"Well," Dr. Hopper said, quite shaken by her harsh tone, "all your symptoms point quite perfectly to the same thing, post-traumatic stress disorder.
"PTSD?" Max asked, quite surprised.
Dr. Hopper nodded. "Yes, the only strange thing is that from everything you've told me about your life, you don't seem to have experienced anything traumatic enough to trigger such a disorder. It's like you're haunted by memories that never happened."
Max's posture straightened, and her eyes narrowed. "Or like... I've forgotten them."
"Ah– well, yes," Dr. Hopper spluttered, "I guess you could put it that way."
And then it hit her. The one thing that could explain all of this. Everything Henry was saying about this place was true. She realized how perfect sense it made as she thought over everything that had happened since Emma got there. That, plus her apparent post-traumatic stress disorder when she hadn't even been through something that traumatic, cemented it for her. There was no way this was a coincidence. And then she cursed herself for not figuring it out sooner. Of course it was true! Henry believed in it. That should've been enough to convince her. Only a fool wouldn't believe in Henry Mills.
"I need to go," said Max immediately, rushing out of the sofa and towards the door.
"W-what? Why? Max, we're not finished yet."
She grinned. "I don't think therapy is gonna bring back my cursed memories, Dr. Hopper." And with that, she dashed out the door.
♥
HENRY opened his bedroom window, and Max greeted him with a bittersweet smile.
"Hi," she said softly.
Henry smiled. "Hi," he said back, voice just as low as hers, before frowning slightly. "How was your appointment with Dr. Hopper?"
Max sighed, before climbing in through the window and sitting down on Henry's bed. He took a seat beside her.
"We talked about my nightmares," she said, keeping her eyes on her lap, "and my panic attacks, and, you know, all the other issues I've got. Like detachment, fear of intimacy, the works..."
Henry nodded, rubbing soothing circles across Max's back.
"And, well... Dr. Hopper said that all of my symptoms point to PTSD, but that it didn't make sense because I've never been through anything bad enough to trigger that..." Henry knew where she was going, but that didn't make it any easier. For once, Max wasn't crying; her eyes were dry, but... that only worried him even more. She turned to look at him as she continued, "Henry, these dreams I keep having, they're not just memories... they're trauma."
Henry immediately reached forward and gripped Max in a tight hug. She smiled despite everything and buried her face in the crook of Henry's neck, letting herself sink into the embrace.
It was weird, in a way. Max had absolutely no recollection of her previous life, and yet, somehow, she knew that Henry was the best thing that had ever happened to her. She would do anything for him.
Soon they parted, and Max's gaze met Henry's determined one. Henry had beautiful eyes. It had always been her favorite part of him. There was this light in them; this beautiful beacon of hope and good. Max wasn't the sort of person who opened up easily to people, but Henry was the exception, and that light behind his eyes was the reason she knew she could trust him.
"We'll get through this together," he promised.
Max nodded. "Okay."
I know that it's common for people with PTSD to repress and forget their traumatic event, I've done my research; so Archie's confusion doesn't really make sense but sssssssshhhhhhh.
But, I mean, it's not like he's actually an educated therapist he's just some cricket so I guess it does kinda make sense anyway.
gif above belongs to @dinneratgrannys on tumblr