𝓒𝓵𝓪𝓻𝓪

The journal Mariah had suggested became a constant companion.

With each entry, I struggled to write - starting from the very beginning - I found myself confronting truths I had long buried, my pen channeling emotions that had no other outlet. The journal was raw, sometimes painful to read, but it was honest.

Mariah had even suggested sharing them with others, but the thought alone scared me half to death. I wouldn't be doing that for a long time - if ever.

The journal was a distraction. It allowed me to write out my thoughts on paper instead of acting on them.

Sometimes, the paper never worked, though.

I still took the small edge of a knife and cut along my skin - using my thighs - a place Violet would never see.

The pain brought a relief that the writing would never do.

At my next visit, I had reluctantly told Mariah I was still cutting. She had this gentle and sad look on her face as she reached out and placed a hand on my arm.

"It's okay," she said. "I never expect someone to quit after one session. I promise we'll get you better. We'll get this to end, okay?"

I nodded.

Mariah was trustworthy. She was gentle and kind and warm. Her office was comforting with the constant sunlight filtering in through the windows - her room a place of trust.

That second session, she took some time and asked me about my current life - what I liked, what I didn't like, what I did - Trying to get to know me.

We talked about all kinds of things. I had a passion for cooking, one I think Mini instilled in me. I told her I liked to clean, and I loved winter. I loved Violet, and I felt like I had this constant need to protect her.

I couldn't help but notice the small smile appear on Mariah's face as I talked about Violet. I stopped after a moment, but she looked at me with this gentle look in her eyes and said, "continue. I want to hear about it all."