"Do you sit down in the shower, Tara?"
Tara blinked in surprised before narrowing her eyes. "What?"
Her new therapist, Abby Turner, was staring at her with a relaxed expression of genuine curiosity. She didn't really look the part of a therapist, sitting there in a yellow cardigan that matched the socks with SpongeBob on them. If anything, she looked a lot like a teacher Tara had in second grade minus the thick rimmed glasses.
"Do you sit down whenever you take a shower?" Abby asked again, shifting to cross her legs. She drew her fingernail over the metal clip of her clipboard.
Still, Tara was taken aback by such a question. She felt oddly seen through.
"Why?" Tara shot back instead.
Abby laughed softly. "There's no need to be defensive. I was going over our notes from last time and thought about what you said."
What she said? What did Tara say, exactly?
"I don't remember saying anything bad," mumbled Tara.
"No, nothing bad. I'm sorry if I made you panic."
At that, Tara hardened her gaze and looked away. Leave it to the therapist to know when her thoughts were spiraling out of control. God, Tara only had 7 sessions with her, and Abby thought she knew everything about Tara.
"It's ok if you do," Abby went on to say. Tara's face soured, and Abby unfortunately caught that. "Can I ask you a question?"
"Another one?" Tara tried to joke, but Abby saw through her facade. "If I didn't know any better, I'd think you were trying to play 20 questions."
She chuckled awkwardly. "Why do you sit down in the shower?"
"Because... I uh..."
"Take your time."
Tara was at a loss for words. Why did she sit down in the shower? She never really noticed she did it until Abby sent her back with homework to figure out things she noticed about her dailey routine. Which included an hour long shower; Tara would be sitting in the tub allowing the hot water to hit her back. While she sat, tremors would rack her body and her irritation would rise.
"I get in the shower in the morning," Tara explained slowly, still processing her thoughts. "Before class so no one has to see me all... icky."
"And do you think there might be another reason for sitting down?" Abby inquired. "I only ask because of your water bottle comment."
Tara looked unsure at that. She brought her hands to her lap to fidget with her nails. The comfortable gray armchair she sat on never felt more uncomfortable under the watchful eye of her therapist.
"S-Sorry, but I don't remember talking about that."
"That's ok," her therapist assured her. "Last time, you talked about how you needed to clean your room. You have a lot of water bottles on your table and floor, clothes in your bed."
Recognition flashed in Tara's eyes. "Right. Sorry."
"Depression and anxiety after a traumatic event is completely normal, Tara. In fact, I would be surprised if you didn't have one of those with what you've been through."
Tara shrugged. "It's nothing. Other people have been through more than me; I'm just being selfish."
Selfish. She had always been selfish; even her own mother thought so, and she made sure to remind Tara anytime she was in town.
Abby wrote something down, nodding to herself as if all of Tara's issues were understandable now.
"I sit on the floor," Tara suddenly said in the uncomfortable silence. She didn't look at her therapist at all, ashamed. "I get so... tired sometimes. And it isn't because of the metal in my leg! It's me! I wake up tired, go through the day angry because of how tired I am, and go to sleep tired. But then I can't sleep and I just..." She huffed in frustration, nails dug into her palms. "I don't know what to do."
Abby leaned back in her chair and flipped her clipboard over on her lap. Her eyes watched Tara's face closely.
"Is there anything you have that could help you sleep?" Abby asked. "A stuffed animal, a nightlight...?"
Tara's mind immediately drifted to her older sister. Sam was strong enough to keep Tara's night terrors away, yet she's soft enough to wrap Tara in her arms and calm her down. No matter how much Tara yells and sobs in her sleep, no matter the bloody scratch marks on her arms, no matter how Tara dissociates to protect herself. Sam was always there.
"No," Tara claimed instead.
Abby cocked her head. "And your sister isn't willing to help you?"
Tara shook her head. "No, she is but... I don't want to bother her with my problems."
Abby flipped her clipboard back over and wrote something down. Tara wanted to chuck the damn thing out the window. She lowered the clipboard again.
"Based on what you've told me about your sister, she sounds like just the person you need at night," Abby pointed out with a soft smile. "I'm sure she'd be willing to help if you asked."
'But I can't!' The words burn acid on Tara's tongue.
"Ok."
Fuck.
[♡♡♡]
Tara raised her hand at Sam's door and drew it into a fist. It hovered in the air for a long few seconds.
Then she knocked.
The door opened not even a second later, and Sam was standing there rubbing her eyes.
"Tara?" Sam mumbled. She instantly woke up, eyes darting over Tara looking for some sort of injury. "Are you ok? What are you doing up right now?"
"Can... Can I sleep in here with you?" Tara asked and before Sam could respond, she was babbling. "I'm sorry if I woke you up with this. Fuck, I'm so stupid. This was a mistake, I didn't mean to wake you up with my stupid problems. I-I'll go back to my room. Sorry -"
"Tara."
Tara's breathing hitched when Sam gently cupped her face, and - Oh. That was actually kind of nice. She sank into the warmth of Sam's palms.
"Let's go to bed, ok?" Sam whispered.
Tara nodded, throat thick with emotion. "Ok."
It was about 20 minutes later when they were settled in Sam's bed. Tara was dozing off finally, face buried into Sam's chest as her arms wrapped around her.
She stirred slightly when Sam kissed the top of her head. Her fingers tucked a few strands of hair out of Tara's face.
"I love you, Tara," Sam muttered.
Tara, too exhausted to say anything, simply turned her head and kissed Sam on the palm. She settled back down and relaxed into a peaceful sleep.
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