"So, are we going to talk about last night?" Regina asked me as I was sitting down eating a bowl of cereal. We have gone through this routine for the last three weeks. Me having recurring nightmares and her having to wake me up in the middle of the night to get me to stop screaming.
"What's there to talk about?" I shrugged her question off. I'm still trying to decipher whether it was a dream or a memory. It feels like a memory.
"It's okay if you don't want to talk about it. I just thought you might feel better if you did." Regina looked at me with a look of sympathy. She knows I didn't kill Ian, and she feels sorry. I don't want pity, but it's all I'll get once I uncover the truth. I want to find out why I went to prison for a crime I did not commit.
"Thanks, Regina, I appreciate that. When I'm ready to talk, I'll come to you, I promise. I'm going to be late for work, I'll see you later." I rush out the door, grabbing my book on the way out. I don't want to talk about my memory dream until I understand for sure. I was just coming out of the elevator when officer Calderon stopped me.
"You have your first therapy appointment today at five pm. You will need to ask Lana to leave work early." Yay, someone to help me work through my problems. As if.
"Yes, sir" I hurried up before I was going to be late.
I'm not great at confiding in people. I think my dream was a memory, at least that's what it felt like. I couldn't see the man's face, his face was blurred out. It felt like a Déjà vu moment. I was so lost in my thoughts I didn't see the cop that I ran straight into.
"Oh, I'm so sorry" I looked up, gasping at the beauty and confidence that rang off him. He had a certain charismatic vibe to him. He has the brightest blonde hair and eyes like the softest ocean. He has the most colorful art littered upon his arm. He's a cop, and he's rather beautiful to look at.
He looked up at me and smiled, "it's no worries." He carried on down the street. I instantly regret not getting his number.
I walked into the bakery, spotting Sage already working on the cakes from yesterday.
"Hey Lana, I have an appointment. Can I dip out early today?" Court ordered therapy. Whoo.
She dipped her head around the corner. "Yes. I don't see a problem with that." I helped Sage until it was time for me to leave for my appointment.
I took a cab to get to my destination.
"I will not have to wait, will I?"
"No." I handed the guy his money and got out of the cab. I walked into the building and up to the reception desk.
"Can I help you?"
"I have an appointment, Violet Stokes,"
She grabbed some papers, putting them on a clipboard, "Fill out this paperwork and bring it back when you're done." It took me a couple of minutes to fill out the paperwork, bringing it back up to her.
"Have a seat and you'll be called back when it's your time."
I was tapping away on my phone when I heard my name being called, "Violet Stokes" I stood up, walking over to the woman holding the door open.
"Hello Violet, I'm Dr. Scarlett Zamora." Dr. Zamora is an average height woman with olive skin, black hair and hazel eyes. She had a certain charisma about her. She gave off a vibe that was laid back and calming. I looked around the room of her office. There was a bohemian tapestry on her office wall, with a couch sitting against it. I could smell a faint scent of lavender in the air. Her room had a Zen feeling. Everything about her office made me calm.
"Hello."
She presented her hand to the couch for me to take a seat. "Please call me Scarlett." She sat down in her chair, pulling out a Manila folder, a pen and notepad. "Now tell me about yourself."
"What's there to know? I was in prison for seven years of my life."
She hummed in acknowledgment, "How about we start with your childhood. Who is the real Violet?"
"The state took me from my mother at eight years old. She was an addict, a lowlife. She overdosed, and I was hungry, so I tried to make me some ramen noodles. I ended up spilling the boiling scalding water all over my body. I ran across the street to the neighbor's house, Millie. She took me to the hospital and then I never saw my mother again."
As if I'd care. All she cared about was getting her next fix. We lived in a grimy trailer on the south side of town. It was a terrible part of town. Someone was shot on my block three times a month. You couldn't leave your car or houses unlocked. My mother Lacey always had men coming in and out of the house. I would lock my bedroom door in fear of the men. Sometimes they got violent with Lacey. Her 'boyfriends' she liked to call them. Things hadn't always been like that. When I was a little girl, around four or five, it wasn't so bad. Lacey was just getting into her heroin addiction before things started getting bad. She worked the night shift at a diner a couple blocks away from the trailer. She met one guy in particular that started it all. Some low life in a band that went nowhere. Once my mom Millie took me in, my life got better.
She nodded, listening intently, taking notes on her notepad. "Tell me more about yourself."
"Can I know about you first, before I bare my soul to you?"
Scarlett chucked, closed her notepad and folded her arms across the table. "Sure Violet—lifting her lips in a smile—what would you like to know?"
"Where are you from? I can't help but notice, you have an accent."
"I'm from London. I moved to America when I was sixteen. I went to college at Harvard. I'm forty-one and I have two children. I'm a regular person."
I smiled at her. "I don't like very many people Scarlett, but I can already tell you and I are going to get along." I stayed for the rest of my appointment before heading back home.
As the cab was pulling up to the apartment, my phone vibrated, alerting me of a message. I took my phone out of my bag, looking at the message from Clark.
"Saturday after your shift? It's been a month since we last spoke. Can I see you?-Clark"
I headed inside the elevator, pushing the button to level two.
"Yeah sure. It's a date." I replied. It was only six thirty when I arrived home. Regina was already making dinner when I walked into the apartment.
"It smells delicious in here," I shouted out, taking my shoes off by the door and hanging my jacket on the rail.
"Lasagna" Regina calls back.
I walked into the kitchen, pulling a chair up to the bar. "I'm starving."
"Good, I'm glad. Did anything interesting happen today?"
"I have a date tomorrow night. I don't really have anything to wear. Could you help me?"
Regina squealed, clapping her hands together. She turned to me smiling, "Of fucking course I'm going to help you. It's been so long since I've had a girlfriend to do these things with."
I smiled, "Me too, Regina."
We ate our lasagna, laughing and joking like girls do. After dinner, Regina and I had a movie marathon, staying up talking until eventually one of us fell asleep.