-3-
"Paul, where are you going?" Daphne yells, running to catch up with me. This was a mistake, I need to get out of here. She grabs my arm.
"Let me go, I have to go home. I need to get the fuck away from this," I say. Daphne pulls her coat shut, shivering in the cold.
"Paul, I didn't mean to upset you. Please, just tell me what's on your mind." What's on my mind? I lived through hell, that's what's on my mind. I can't fall asleep without getting high on medications, like I'm some farm animal in need of tranquilization. I can't write, because the idea of pushing buttons on a typewriter, the ding at the end of each line, it sets me into a panic attack, and I lock myself in my bathroom with my back against the door, alone in my apartment.
"I know who you are. You're related to her, her husband had the same name. I don't know what you think this is, but I don't want to know you or talk to you, and I sure as hell don't want to spend another minute here. I'm walking to the bus station and I don't want you to follow me."
Daphne looks surprised, and for a second it looks like she's thinking of a way to cover up her deceit. I turn and walk away, the snow up to my knees.
"You're right!" She yells. "Annie was my father's ex wife. But I'm not like her, I want to help people, Paul. I want to help people like Annie so they don't hurt people. I have my own practice for insane patients," I turn and look at her. She looks genuine, but I don't trust her. I don't trust anyone.
"You help people?" I know I need help, but it's hard to talk about what happened. The torture, I felt so weak.
"I can help you. I can drive you to the bus station, please. I know what you must think of me and I'm sorry, I didn't mean to upset you, Paul. It's a long walk, I can drive you. We don't have to talk. We can pretend this never happened and go on with our lives."
Pretend. I've only ever been pretending since I left this place five years ago. Sometimes I don't even remember which version of me is the real me. I follow Daphne to her truck and as she turns the ignition I watch the house shrink in the side mirror. Maybe I can trust her.