Cammie was racing down the street. She was late for therapy. Not that anyone knew she went, not even Rachel or Lil. But there were things she had to get out to someone who would give her sympathy. Her past was catching up to her. This was only her fist therapy session.

She finally got to the building. She couldn't believe this is was her only option other then leaving New York City, but she liked this place. It was the only place she stayed that lasted longer then six months. She got here when she was seventeen for Christ's sake. She was now twenty-two.

She walked through those double doors. She was hot. She grew up in Russia, and the New York weather was much hotter than Russia. The lady at the front desk asked for her name.

Cammie smiled and said "Cammie, no last name."

The lady looked at the computer in front of her. "Oh yes I see, your seeing doctor bishop, he's in room 3, you can go straight through, he'll be with you in a moment."

So Cammie walked straight on through. Room three oh there it is. She thought to herself. She walked in and sat down on the chair that was there.

Two minutes later doctor Bishop walked in. "Sorry I just got back from lunch, traffic in New York is Hell." He said lightly trying to make a joke about it.

"It's worse at night, when all the gangs are out and all the clubs open." She said half listening to him in the first place.

"True, now Cammie, what has brought you to doing therapy?"

"My past is catching up to me. I keep remembering things that I don't want to remember. Things from my childhood."

"That accent is Russian so I take it that's where it started."

"Yes that's right, do you think you can help?" Cammie had desperation in her voice while asking that question.

'I'll see what I can do for you. Now what are these bad memories."

Cammie thought back to her childhood. The memories just flooded back too her. She hadn't thought about it in years.

She told the doctor about her parents.

She remembered the morning her baby sister had been strangled to death by her father.

She remembered crying in a corner with her twin sister and her older and little brothers.

She remembered the night her dad had lost is temper and hit her mother to death.

She remembered the night her father poisoned her older brother.

She remembered the night her father made a vow to raise his youngest son to be just like him.

And, she remembered the night she and her twin ran away when they were 14.

She told her therapist all about these moments in her life. She saw him wince when she mentioned what he did to her family.

She wondered what her sister was doing right now. Where she was. She wondered if she was married. Something Cammie would never be able to do because of the fear that history would repeat itself.