I got a text from my mom, asking me to come up for dinner. She said that she missed my face and was making a roasted chicken, my favorite. It had been such a good week, in five days I had made a real change. I made a choice, a decision all on my own and then I made it actually happen. I wanted to tell my mom, let her in. But I wouldn't, I needed to keep this about me for just a little while longer. I texted her back that I would come up at six, and she responded with a smiley face.

Mom and I used to be best friends, I know how lame that sounds but it is true. We would hang out, go to the movies, go shopping, even bar hopping on a few occasions. But sometimes that friendship clouded her ability to just be my mom. Now we feel like strangers, like I never knew her at all, like she never knew me. We were both wanting something the other one was incapable of giving.

I tentatively walked up the basement stairs to my childhood home, my stomach in knots. The place smelled amazing, my mom made a perfect roast chicken. The trick was tons of garlic, olive oil and a touch of rosemary.

"Amelia Ann is that you?" My mother called out, her voice sweet. She was the only person who called me by my full name, despite my repeated requests for her not to.

"The one and only." It was something I used to say as a kid, the one and only, I was hoping that it would bring us together with a unified happy memory. I was choosing to try with my parents tonight. Dr. Dalton's words kept ringing in my head. They are living with your boundaries not the other way around. I walked into the kitchen just a my mom was taking the bird out of the oven.

"That looks as good as it smells Ma." She looked me over, her eyes finally settling on mine. I was in baggy jeans and a turtleneck, covered from head to toe. Shapeless grey and black clothing were my go to now. I could read the disappointment in her eyes, the pain, the pity, the regret. This is why it was so hard to be around her. She had no poker face.

"Thanks sweetie, the table is all set. Why don't you pour yourself a glass of wine and head into the dining room." My dad was already sitting at the table, a glass of red in hand reading his Kindle.

"Hey dad." He put the Kindle down for a brief moment and smiled at me, saying nothing as his attention went back to whatever story he was engrossed in.

"Good book?"

"Uhhh, yeah. I guess." That was my dad, a man of few words. He wasn't one to show emotion one way or the other, unless he was angry. Crazy angry. It didn't happen often but when it did, watch out. "I mean, I don't know how Patterson cranks out book after book."

"It's his job dad and he has help." He thought about my words for a moment and shrugged his shoulders.

"Yeah, you wanna read it when I am done." I used to read like a vapid animal, my Kindle never too far away from my reach. Devouring books one by one, reading them to completion in a day. But now I find myself meandering, thumbing through books, actual bound books. I have been reading the classics, stories of simpler times. Where lovers courted, held hands, yearned for one another from a distance. Modern books are filled with sex, unspeakable violence, such rage. A snapshot of what the world has become. A world I know it all too well. Now I would rather look back to the past. A place where things are simpler, kinder at least from the prospective of the author.

"Probably not dad." He grunted something intelligible and I took my usual seat and a large gulp of my wine. I ran my fingers over the marks I had made in the table years ago, writing a book report to hard with my Bic pen and loose leaf. You could even make out some of the words, Ponyboy was a… I smiled at the memory, that book changed my life as a kid.

Mom finally made her way into the dining room, the chicken sliced perfectly by her expert hands and it joined the potatoes and green beans already on the table. For the most part we ate in an uncomfortable but familiar silence. I asked her about her classes, my father about his new route. They asked my about my sessions with Dalton, if I had heard from Jeff or Laurel. I could put the tape in really, same conversations time after time.


I offered to help with the dishes like I always did and to my surprise this time she accepted, usually saying she had it under control. It was that moment I knew something was up, that she wanted to talk to me about something. I stood at the sink, rinsing the dirty dishes as she loaded them into dishwasher.

"So, things are going well with Doctor Dalton?" She wouldn't look me in the eye as she spoke. I could sense her nervousness.

"Yeah, things have been really good actually. Why do you ask?"

"Well, it's just been years now and there has been such little progress." My mouth dropped open, in shock and disgust Was she kidding? In the time I had been seeing Dalton I had done a 145 degree turn, inching my way to a fully functional 180. How dare she say I had made little progress, what she really meant is that I wasn't her good old Amelia Ann anymore.

"Ma, are you serious, Dr. Dalton has been amazing for me. Where the hell is all of this coming from?"

"Well I was talking to Susan Royce, I ran into her at the Met Foods and she said after her daughter Cammy saw this Doctor Michael Ramsey in the city for her PSTD she was back to her old self in a few months." I had to hold back my laughter.

"Ma, are you joking with me right now? Cammy Royce was in a car accident while texting and didn't want to drive anymore, that is just slightly different then what I went through."

"I know that honey..."

"DO YOU? Do you Ma, cause I am not so sure you do." I dried my hands on a towel and threw it back on the counter top. She opened her mouth to speak, hurt etched across her face. I really didn't care about her hurt feelings. I cut her off immediately, disgusted. "No Ma…NO! Thanks for dinner. Night." I stormed out of the kitchen like I was sixteen years old and I was just told I couldn't go out with my boyfriend. I even slammed the door behind me for the full effect.


I was so beyond pissed, I mean for her to suggest that PSTD caused by a car accident was in anyway similar to the PSTD I suffered from after days RAPE and TORTURE. I mean the utter lunacy of that, was just too much for me to digest. She really was clueless. I took a deep breath, not wanting to have a freak out. I was trying my best to control my emotions and tried to focus my mind to another place. I had breakfast with Dino tomorrow, that would be nice, it had been over a month since I had seen him. Then my mind drifted to Will and what he said to me, that I could be his reason. I could be his reason, what did that even mean? Everything that he had told me about his past weighing heavy on my already overloaded mind. I could not imagine Will out of control, high on cocaine, reckless. He seemed so in control of not only himself but what was going on around him. Focused with a laser precision I could only hope to have one day in the far off future. But I realized it is how he copes, in the same way I stay in control but now allowing myself to be touched. I tried to imagine what he had been through, almost dying twice, once from a gunshot and once from an overdose. You can't help but wonder why some people live and some people die, their will to live stronger then their desire to self destruct. I wondered if I was one of those people. I was grateful that Will had survived and come out of it on the other side a better, stronger person. He had become a symbol for me. An idea that started in Dino's head and an idea that I was making happen. I was going to get in control of my body and my ability to protect it. But that was not going to happen until I got to the place where Will could touch me. I sat on the floor in my bedroom, back pressed up against me bed. My eyes closed tight, my breathing steady and I let my mind go.


We would be sitting in the front window of his studio, on those awful hard plastic chairs. I would feel the hot sun on my back, it would almost be too much after my workout. We would talk like we always do, somehow I had managed to let him in, even thought I am still not sure why. There is something about Will and the way I feel when I am around him. Safe, he makes me feel safe in a way that I have never experienced, even before what Simon did to me. I wouldn't move, not wanting to change the air of the moment. My left knee would almost be touching his right, my hands knotted in my lap. I would be nervous to the point of nauseous, that couldn't be avoided. Dr. Dalton always said to see the good as well as the bad so I wouldn't be blindsided if and when the bad happened. My heart would race, my breathing quicken. I would fight the urge to flee, to run away. Forcing myself to sit there and wait for it to happen. Will would reach over, he would stop for a moment, easing the tension out of his hand. His warm finger tips softly grazing over my cold hands, just barely touching me and then gently prying my hands apart. My mouth would part at his touch and I would gasp. The strange foreign but familiar haunting feeling of skin once again on my skin. I could feel every callous, every ridge of his palm and he laced his fingers with mine, resting our joined hands on his thigh. My hand would finally tighten around his, my thumb gently rubbing the fleshy mound of his, the hairs on the back of his hand tickling my finger tip. The fleet of butterflies in my stomach, at full throttle. I would exhale loudly, releasing all the tension and he would smile, the smallest sweetest smile. Will would look at me, his brown eyes full of happiness and whisper one single word. Everest.

I opened my eyes, shocked at myself. HOLY FUCK! I had feelings for Will. This was a horrible, bad, terrible thing. It was also amazing, exciting and wonderful. I wanted him to touch me, but even more surprising I wanted to touch him. It was the missing element this entire time. The fact was, as much as I didn't want to be touched, I didn't want to touch anyone even more. That was something I never really worked on, in all the time I spent sitting on my sofa visualizing. My desire to want to touch someone, to have my hands upon THEM. Mind Blown!


No, this was not possible to have feeling for someone you have know all of five hours. I mean it's just because he is being so nice to me, helpful, brotherly. Yes brotherly! Like Jeff or Dino, ok not like Dino. But like Jeff. Panic started to build in my belly, radiating out as my body tightened, I could hear my heartbeat thumping in my ear. Breathe, just breathe Amy... This panic attack has been a long time coming. It's ok to succumb to it, just breathe. I couldn't move, my body clenched so hard that I shook. I could hear my thoughts screaming in my head, taunting me. The air went paper thin, as a gasped for it. The less air I could take in the stronger my panic became. The walls of my apartment closing in, I needed air and space and open sky. My mind was yelling at me to get up but my body was not listening. My lungs burning, my eyes unable to focus, dizzy. I finally forced myself to stand, every step a choice until I got to my door, throwing it open. The cold air slapped me across the face.

It was almost Halloween, the moon hung high and almost full in the sky. I gasped for breath like a goldfish out of its bowl, the intake of air causing my lungs pain. My arms stretched in the door way, hands clenched on the jam, bracing myself. I was finally able to get my breath under control, taking long slow rhythmic breaths.

I could feel myself coming out of it, the panic leaving my body like a wave receding away from the shoreline. I sometimes wish I could go back to taking the pills. Sure they made me a zombie, but they controlled the panic, dulled the intensity of my thoughts and muted the pain. Dr. Dalton was not a proponent of meds, he said they clouded the mind and never allowed it to heal in cases like mine. My issue was not the chemicals of my brain, it was my mind and thoughts rebelling against me. The voices in my head telling me the wrong things because of what I had gone through, what I had endured. No medicine in the world could cure that. I wasn't sure if he was right or wrong, only time would tell. But I do know that when I was taking the meds, I was still feeling everything I was now only then I was too numb to know and too high to care. Ahhh the good old days.