A/N: Sequel time! :D
Disclaimer: This will be my last Disclaimer for this story: I DON'T OWN TITANIC!
"Abbey! It's time for your appointment!" my mother called from the kitchen. I closed my sketchpad and tossed it on the bed. I was happy—well, I didn't mind going to therapy. I had chosen this for myself. I didn't want my "real," happy dreams if it meant waking up from them!
"Coming, mom!" I called. I looked at my sketchpad, debating whether I should bring it or leave it. I was gonna bring it. "Am I going to school tomorrow?" I asked. I was praying for a yes. I hated staying home. I had nothing to do… My schedule was nap, eat, draw, nap, take medicine, eat, nap, draw, nap, eat, go to sleep. It got boring after a while.
This appointment was going to be my first day out of the house in a week—so I'd been told.
"Abigail Dawson?" the receptionist called. "You're up!" the woman said. I held my sketchpad close to my chest, as if I was about to lose it suddenly. I followed the lady into the doctor's office.
"Good evening, Abbey! I'm Dr. Caroll," said the woman. I took a seat, still clutching my notepad close. "Hello, I'm—well you already know who I am," I said stupidly. Dr. Caroll smiled at me. "Well, I want to get to know you better so why don't you start with your name, age, date of birth and occupation," she said comfortingly. "Well—er—Abbey Rose Dawson, age 14, December 14, 1912, beginner artist?" I said. She nodded. "What kind of art do you like?" she asked me. "Well, I love portraits, like my dad—I never met him—," I babbled. "Do you draw portraits yourself?" Dr. Caroll asked me. I nodded handing her my sketchpad.
I watched as her jaw dropped slightly. "Well, your father gave you a gift, Abbey! A very special gift!" she praised. I smiled, blushing slightly. She continued flipping through the book before handing it back.
"Tell me, Abbey; Do you know why you're here?" she asked me. "I asked my mother if I could come here… I've been having these "visions," if you will… Dreams… They feel so real and for the last week I was living in a dream! I thought it was reality! I felt like such a freak," I said, feeling incredibly small for discussing my problem. "I don't see why you wouldn't feel that way, Abbey… But you don't have to feel that way… I can help you stop it," she said, smiling at me comfortingly.
Later that evening, after the therapy session, I sat at the wooden desk, filling in the cracks and carvings with the graphite from my pencil.
I had nothing better to do… I could nap… I felt like sleeping today. I shut the lamp off and crawled under the covers on my bed. Maybe I could dream? NO! That's why I asked for therapy! I can't just give in once!
But I did want to see Dad again… Maybe just one dream…
"I'm home!" I called walking in the door. "Dad?" I called. He appeared in the kitchen. "Hey, kiddo!" he called back. I smiled, and hugged his waist. "Today was actually good to me!" I laughed. He chuckled. "Not to your mother," he said sadly. "What do you mean?" I asked. "She hasn't been feeling well this week," he said. "Or last." "What's wrong with her? Influenza?" I asked. My father shrugged.
"I don't think so…" he said. I frowned. It had been two weeks and she seemed to be getting worse? She was okay this morning… "She can't hold any food down long enough," my father explained.
I hope she felt better soon. She could eat yes… She did eat a lot… especially this week, but she just couldn't hold it down? I really hope she felt better. If it wasn't influenza… what was it? I closed my eyes and avoided thinking the worst.
"Abbey!" my mother called. "Dinner's ready!" I cracked my eyes open, cursing I'd let my dreams control me… It felt like all other dreams that involved my father… Real.
I rubbed my eyes and went out to the kitchen.
"How do you feel?" my mother asked, taking a bit of her lasagna. I hated the meal but I only ate it because I didn't have the heart to tell her the truth… And it was one of her favorite meals… I didn't want her eating alone or doing more work than was necessary just for me…
"Fine…" I said flatly, stabbing my meal. I was still upset about the control thing… "I had another dream…" I sighed, throwing my fork down.
"Do you want to talk?" my mother asked gently. Something in my snapped…
"I DON'T WANT TO TALK! I DON'T WANT TO LET ANYONE IN! I HATE WHY I HAVE TO BE THE FREAK! I JUST WANT EVERYTHING TO STOP!" I sobbed, hurling my tea cup across the room. It shattered into tiny, sharp pieces and scattered everywhere. My mother didn't look scared… But concerned.
She held me to her tight, comforting me. "It's okay…" she whispered gently.
"Why don't you go lie down or draw, Abbey? I got the rest of this," my mother said.
I walked to my room, shutting the door. I listened to the tinkling of glass as my mother scooped it up. I sighed and flopped down onto my bed, sighing. I turned to face the wall and cried. I didn't want to feel this way… Why did I have to be the freak? Why me?
I let the tears fall.
I sighed heavily again and thought:
Why am I acting this way? What made me into this?
I curled into the tiniest ball I could manage and cried. And cried. And cried. Make that the fifth time today, probably fiftieth time this week.
Would I heal? I had to…
A/N: So? Sorry this was late… I had a WAY busy day today but hey! It's up now right? Not that long a wait… At least it wasn't a week's wait!