Page 52 of Unforgettable

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Rose

My meetingwith Dr. Klein was a lot more anti-climactic than I thought it would be. He asked a gazillion questions about my moods and what kinds of things triggered different reactions. He prescribed me a new anti-depressant and something to help my anxiety when it gets out of control. He also referred me to Dr. Osborne, who specializes in therapy for victims of sexual assault and other abuse.

I haven’t met with Dr. Osborne yet… I’m just not ready to rehash everything. Honestly, I don’t see the point. I want to put the past behind me and look to the future. Matthew doesn’t agree. He tried to talk me into seeing her, and I had a meltdown. It wasn’t pretty. He backed off and hasn’t brought it up since.

I’ve been on the new medication for about ten days. I don’t like the way it makes me feel. Well, it’s more apt to say I don’t like the way the medicine makes me not feel. I’m numb all the time. It’s supposed to help keep my moods on an even keel so that I don’t cycle through the gamut of emotions like a bad trip on a rollercoaster. I guess it does do that. I’m on an even keel… it’s just one full of numbness.

Not only did it zap away the negative emotions, but it has sucked the life out of the good too. I feel like I’m just going through the motions. Wake up, make breakfast, clean up, shower, go to club, come home, sleep… rinse and repeat every day.

I haven’t cried since Matthew and I argued about me talking to the therapist. It’s not that I’m not upset. I am. My brain is full of all the same torturous anxieties and stresses, but those emotions are trapped inside buried under the suffocating blanket of medication. I want to cry. I feel like crying. I just can’t.

Worst of all, my anger has been snuffed out. It was an emotion that I hid more often than not. While at Red House, it simmered below the surface. It’s what kept me alive all those years. It’s what saved me from being completely lost. Anger kept the darkness from consuming me. Now, I can’t even drum up annoyance. Without it, I feel vulnerable. Weak.

Everyone watches me like some kind of science experiment. Always worried. Hannah hovers. Slade looks at me with concern. Kisten’s usual banter has disappeared. And Matthew? He’s the worst of all. He watches my every move, analyzes my every word.

I do my best to elevate their worries. I smile. I laugh when I’m supposed to laugh, even if it does sound hollow to my own ears. I become the queen of fake it til you make it. Though, I’m starting to lose faith that I’ll ever get to the make it part. Dr. Klein assured me that after a couple weeks, the medication would be in full effect, and I should feel like my old self again, whatever that is.

The numbness grows every day. It joins with the yawning pit of darkness that lives inside me. Merging into one beast that’s slowly sucking me under.

I’m standing in the shower watching the water swirl down the drain at my feet. My hair is freshly shampooed, and I can feel the suds dripping down my wet skin. I talk myself through the steps again. Wet, shampoo, rinse, conditioner, rinse. I blink water droplets out of my lashes, willing my hands to get back to work. The task feels insurmountable.

Frozen in place, I stare down, watching the water circle the drain like a mini whirlpool. Round and round it goes. I don’t know how long I stand and stare with the water stinging my skin like a million tiny needles. The prickling sensation only adds to the numb feeling that has blanketed me.

“Rose, sweetheart, we have to leave in thirty.”

I hear Matthew. I know I should respond, but it seems like a lot of work, so I don’t bother.

I’m so fixated on watching the water swirl down the drain. Down, down, down into the darkness below my feet that I don’t notice the bathroom door slamming against the wall. I’m so focused on the water escaping that I don’t react when the shower door is wrenched open. I don’t even stop staring when the thousands of bees stop stinging my back. I stare at the drain even after the water stops its spiral into the abyss.

In fact, I’m still staring now, but I see nothing.

I am nothing.