The computer screen glowed in Anna's dark office, her face silhouetted against it. Her fingers flew over the keyboard, navigating adeptly to a search engine, where she ran a search for the very idea she'd been avoiding all that day: "self injury addiction." Seconds later the results page loaded. "My God..." Anna breathed. Dozens of links appeared-- apparently, Anna realized, she was not the only one concerned with this topic, and maybe she was not the only one fighting this kind of battle.
A few clicks of the mouse, and minutes later Anna was leaning back in her chair, holding her wrist, ill at ease. She flipped the switch on her monitor and sat in darkness, turning her newly gained knowledge over in her mind. She closed her eyes, afraid to admit to herself the depths of the dilemma she was in-- that she could be... Studies have concluded that self injury may not be described accurately as a mere mental or emotional problem. The development of physical dependencies is only beginning to be recognized. Discoveries like this suggest that self-injury is in fact a mental, emotional, and physical addiction. Even with the computer screen off, each word glowed in her head like a neon sign.
Addiction, she scoffed inwardly. An hour earlier she was dying of curiosity, wondering if such a thing was possible. Now that she had reason to believe it was, the last thing she was about to do accept was that it could happen to her.
I'm different," she conceded. Addictions are for people who are too weak to face reality. Cocaine addicts, alcoholics, they're the ones with the problem, not me. The thought should have convinced Anna that everything was fine, but it left her in more doubt than ever.
Calmly, she tried to stand, but found it difficult; her legs were shaking uncontrollably. She sat back down and gritted her teeth angrily. An urge to drive her fist through the wall stormed through her, accompanied by another to curl up in a corner and cry. Both infuriated her.
"This is ridiculous," she spat aloud, looking at her watch. "It's midnight, and I'm going home." Defiantly, she rose from her chair, but was curbed by the ringing of her phone. Reluctantly, she answered it.
"Hello?"
"Hi, Mom?"
"Robin!" Anna felt her muscles relax. "How are you, sweetheart?"
"I'm doing fine, how are you? What are you doing up so late?"
Anna hesitated. "Just, you know, some things at the station I needed to take care of."
"You work to hard," Robin said knowingly. "I was actually calling to leave you a message, but I'm glad to get to talk to you."
Anna smiled, feeling happy at hearing the sound of her daughter's voice.
"In three weeks, there's an AIDS conference in L.A. I was invited to attend, and when I called to make airline reservations, I found out that I can take a flight that will lay over in Pine Valley overnight."
"Oh, Robin, that's wonderful!" exclaimed Anna. "I could meet you at the airport, we can get a bite to eat, and then you can come back to the Valley Inn... Oh, I can't wait to see you! What time would your flight come in?"
Robin laughed. "My plane," she reported, "would land at 11am, your time."
"Excellent! I'll pick you up at the airport... We could have lunch at the Valley Inn, and after that we could do whatever you'd like."
"That sounds great. And... well, maybe--"
"What is it, Robin?"
"Maybe David would like to go to lunch with us?" Robin said suggestively.
"Oh! Oh, of course. Certainly, I'll ask him."
"Cool. I've been looking forward to meeting him since you got married. I guess that makes him my step-father, right?"
"Hmm," Anna smiled as the thought sank in. "I suppose it does. Dear Lord help us!"
"Why?"
"Because that makes Vanessa Cortlandt, a.k.a. 'Proteus,' your step-grandmother." They laughed together at the thought. Even silly moments like these reminded Anna of how much she missed her daughter. "I can't wait to see you, Robin."
"Me neither. But listen, I've got to go. I need to get to work-- and you need to get some sleep!"
"Yes, mother," Anna teased.
"Love you, Mom."
"I love you too."
"Goodbye."
Anna put the phone back onto its cradle. Her mind wandered back to the topic she'd researched before she'd answered the phone. Pulling up her sleeve, she stared at her mutilated wrist. I don't want my daughter to see me like this. If I'm not addicted-- and I'm not-- then I can end this. Now. Once again, she gathered her purse, and walked to her office door, locked it, and made her way through a room of a dozen or so night-shift officers.
"Good night, everyone," she addressed them with a nod.
"Good night, Chief," several murmured.
Yes, thought Anna. Yes. Hopefully the first of many.