Page 63 of The Guru: Shadow
And as he didn’t move, she repeated herself more clearly, “Deis, leave, now.”
“No.”
“If you don’t want to be seen with me, I don’t need you here. Get. Out.”
“Emma, the world is not black and white, I am a person in public focus, people will talk and the echo will be awful. It’s in your interest, too, believe me.”
“Then get out of here, leave!”
“I won’t leave you alone.”
“Don’t tell me you care now because you don’t. You have a plan, and I am somewhat important to it,” as she said it his eyes flashed, confirming her suspicion, “but I don’t want to be part of it. So, go, I can handle myself.”
How could I be so stupid to even think there was more to it? That he somehow liked me? That he has a heart? Gods, you are so stupid Em. He has a plan, and that’s what all of it is about.
He stared at her. “Emma–”
“Leave now or I will have you removed,” she said, trying to keep the bitterness out of her voice.
When he left, he glanced into her eyes one last time, but she broke it by staring out of the window into the darkness of the night. And the moment the door closed, tears flooded all over her cheeks. His feeling of the need to hide her, to not be associated with, made her feel dirty and worthless. And for whatever reason, it felt just as bad as the feeling of shame boiling in the shadows of her heart from what happened with Carl. Both emotions nagged her in the depths of her chest, and she wanted nothing more than to disappear. Dissolve into the nothingness of the universe.
I don’t matter.
I’m just a name on a file somewhere.
And if I die, no one will care.
Mother doesn’t know she has a child.
Julie doesn’t know what her fiancé did.
Carl raped me. My own father raped me!
And Deis wants to hide me.
I’m just a nobody.
A lost soul. No one fucking cares about me.
“Hi Emma, I’m Claire. I’d like to talk to you about what happened and whatyou need right now,” said the woman in a white coat who had entered the room very carefully and at a respectful distance. “May I sit with you for a moment?”
“If you must.”
What I need is a scalpel.
“It won’t take long. Do you feel like talking about what happened?”
“I’ve already said everything.”
“For the official record, yes. But what I want to hear is about your feelings and what you need.”
My feelings? Certainly not.And a part of her immediately retracted, getting as much distance between itself and the psych lady.
“I’m fine, been through worse,” she said, trying so hard to make her voice convincing.
“Dissociation of emotions is a way of protection, that, however, does not mean they aren’t there. Are you in therapy? Or would you like me to set an appointment for you?”
I don’t have the money for a shrink, even if I did, I wouldn’t want you to. They’ll put me in a psych ward and vanish me.