Okay, first off, let me apologise for this chapter: the beginning of it was written pre-writers block and the rest of it was after I'd recovered from it. So I am sorry if it doesn't seem to flow, is v. crappy and/or is not up to par.
Please continue reviewing, though, because I love getting your feed back and thank you everyone who reviewed the last chapter!
Kirsten sat on the couch later that day, her eyes glued to the TV screen without registering what was on it. She'd called the therapist the hospital had referred her to-Dr Emily Walker, was it? Or rather, she'd spared her pride and got Sandy to do the calling for her. Kirsten had been expecting to be squeezed in sometime from maybe a week onwards, so it had come as a shock when Sandy had walked in to tell Kirsten she'd have her first session tomorrow.
"Tomorrow?" Kirsten had spluttered. They didn't believe in giving patients recovery time, that was for sure.
"Apparently the hospital contacted her about you," Sandy told Kirsten, sitting down next to her.
"What am I, a high priority case or something?" Kirsten asked.
"Only because of what you went through," Sandy reminded her. "Not because of the way you're handling things."
"Sandy, it's too soon," Kirsten protested, panic rising in her at the thought of having to recount and relive what she'd been through. "I can't go tomorrow. Another week, maybe-but not tomorrow."
"The sooner you go, the sooner it will begin getting easier," Sandy stated, giving her leg a rub. "The first meeting's never gonna be easy and you might never feel ready. Wouldn't it be best to get it over and done with?"
Kirsten looked into Sandy's eyes and expelled a sigh. This was a view of his nothing would change-the tone of his voice gave it away.
"I don't know," Kirsten argued. "You didn't go what I went through. You don't know what it was like. It's not something I'm ready to talk about yet."
"But you mightn't even have to talk about it at tomorrow's session," Sandy defended. "She may get you to talk about other things."
"She might not," Kirsten pointed out, immediately wincing inwardly at the childishness of her words.
"Nothing's ever certain," Sandy said. "What about if we draw up a deal?"
"Oh, God, I feel like such a kid," Kirsten complained.
"Well, this deal's really not something I'd offer to a kid," Sandy informed her. "If you go to therapy, I was going to propose we have some alternative therapy at home afterwards."
A trace of a smile formed on Kirsten's lips, but inwardly she gave another sigh. She gave up on the battle of trying to make Sandy see her point of view. The battle now was to make sure Sandy believed she'd be going to therapy tomorrow.
"And what sort of therapy might that be?" Kirsten asked, giving Sandy an innocent look.
"Well, it's a bit unconventional but I think it may do the trick," Sandy replied.
"Then I guess it really depends," Kirsten teased.
"On what?" Sandy demanded.
"On whether or not I know the therapist," Kirsten played along. "Do I?"
"Oh, I believe you do," Sandy confirmed.
Kirsten lay next to Sandy late that night, her mind racing. From what she could tell, she was stuck: if she went to therapy, she'd have to dredge up those memories she was trying desperately to forget. If she didn't go to therapy, she'd do what, exactly? Drive around town until her session was supposed to be over? She couldn't be at home as Sandy had taken time off work to be there for Kirsten, and the thought of leaving the house-alone-terrified her almost as much as the thought of therapy. On top of that, Kirsten would feel guilty lying to Sandy if she didn't go.
Kirsten felt stressed and panicky. No matter what she chose, tomorrow was going to be far from fun.
"How are you feeling?" Sandy asked the next morning as soon as the boys left for school. He walked up to Kirsten at the kitchen table, resting his hands on her shoulder.
Kirsten shrugged and took one of Sandy's hands.
"Nervous," she answered. It wasn't a lie either: she still didn't know what to do and the persistent butterflies in her stomach had prevented her from eating breakfast.
Sandy sat down next to her and as he turned Kirsten to face him, she noticed a worried frown on his forehead.
"Are you sure you don't want me to take you?" Sandy asked. "You're ready to go out on your own?"
"I'll be fine," Kirsten said unconvincingly, trying to fight away the guilt settling next to the butterflies. "Don't worry."
"You know I will," Sandy informed her. "If you change your mind let me know."
Kirsten nodded her head before standing up.
"What about you're breakfast?" Sandy asked, noticing the untouched plate of food.
"I'm not hungry," Kirsten answered, walking out of the room. "I should go get ready. Feel free to eat it."
Sandy looked at Kirsten as she walked to the door; she looked so frail, so small. She looked up at him with frightened eyes and Sandy felt his instinctive protectiveness towards her awaken. Walking up, he gave her a hug. It killed him seeing her like this; he just wanted to wrap her up and protect her forever, so she'd never have to face the evilness of the world again.
"So…I'll see you soon," Kirsten said nervously, opening the door.
"I could still take you," Sandy declared, praying she'd accept but his offer was rejected again by the shake of her head.
"I'll be okay," Kirsten assured him, before turning around and walking to the car.
Sandy watched her get in and turn on the engine before closing the door behind him and giving a sigh.
She had a five minute head start, he decided. Sandy fought down guilt at his doubt over whether or not Kirsten was going to therapy and his need to find out for himself.
He'd laid awake the night before as Kirsten had tossed and turned, her stress over today and tangible as her body lying next to him. Sandy had been about to roll over and take Kirsten in his arms when she'd jumped out of bed and padded out of the room. Half asleep, Sandy had decided not to follow.
It was Kirsten's evident despair and the way she'd given into their argument yesterday over therapy that prompted Sandy to wonder if she'd just ditch the session. It was too out of character for Kirsten to just give into something she didn't believe in without much of a fight-especially with Sandy. And the way she'd just decided to take herself didn't tie in with the terrified person next to him who had clutched onto his hand for dear life when they'd left the hospital only a few days ago.
It wasn't Kirsten blowing off therapy that was Sandy's main concern; it was the thought of Kirsten out there alone. Sandy checked his watch and impatiently tapped his foot. She'd looked so terrified heading out the door. Kirsten hadn't gone anywhere alone since the day that Richard had abducted her and Sandy had been under the impression that the thought of leaving home alone petrified her at the moment. It was the thought of Kirsten out there alone, vulnerable and scared that concerned Sandy-the fear of how she'd cope and what she might do.
The seconds hand on Sandy's watch flicked to the five minute mark and he headed out to the car, giving a sigh of both concern and relief.
With Kirsten to watch over, there was hardly any time or energy left for Sandy to grieve the loss of the babies.
Kirsten's heart really began to pound when she stepped into the rental car she'd be using while her car was in for repair. Closing her eyes briefly, Kirsten took a few deep breaths and tried to block out the memories of what had happened the last time she had gone out alone, before starting the engine.
She still didn't know whether or not she'd go to therapy, but the panic and stress in her seemed to be rising by the second. She decided to head in the direction of the therapist.
Trailing down the street, Kirsten could still feel her heart beating wildly and her breathing was shallow as she tried in vain to extinguish her panic. Anxiously, she locked the doors of the car.
The familiar streets she'd driven along many times before suddenly became dangerous and alien. Every car she spotted had Richard following her; every house she passed seemed to be able to see right into the car. Breathing became Kirsten's main focus.
Kirsten's heart skipped a beat as traffic lights rolled into view; having to stop for a few minutes was not Kirsten's current idea of a good time. They were still green, she tried to console herself with as her foot went down on the accelerator in an attempt to beat the feared red light.
Her foot automatically reached for the brake as she advanced on a car in front of her that clearly intended to travel below the speed limit.
"Come on," Kirsten muttered nervously, trailing the car.
The lights turned to orange just as the car was about to cross. The overly cautious driver slammed on the brakes, causing Kirsten to follow suit, coming to a stop just in time and causing her to be stuck with the red light.
Panic rose up uncontrollably in Kirsten. She tried turning up the radio, counting to ten but nothing fought the panic away. Seconds seemed to stretch into hours, the light remaining red for an ungodly amount of time.
"I can't do it," Kirsten whispered, hyperventilating.
The lights finally turned green, and Kirsten did an illegal U-turn before tearing away back in the direction of home, amidst horns blasting all around her.
Still hyperventilating, a light-headed feeling settled in Kirsten and she pulled over to the side of the lifeless road she was now driving along before bursting into tears and burying her head in her arms on the wheel.
Sandy found the car pulled over to the side of a road a couple of streets from home. It may have blended in with the other black Range Rovers in the street-they seemed to be the staple of the O.C. lifestyle-but none of the other cars had a blonde figure hunched over the wheel.
Screeching to a stop, Sandy hopped out of the car and ran over to Kirsten.
"Kirsten!" he called out, tapping on the car window.
Kirsten jumped and screamed before realising it was Sandy. She opened the door anxiously and hopping out, holding onto Sandy tightly.
"I'm sorry, I'm sorry," Kirsten apologised between sobs.
"It was my fault," Sandy told her, stricken with guilt. "I shouldn't have made you go to therapy."
Leading Kirsten to the passenger side of her car, Sandy locked his car before hopping into the drivers seat.
"Let's get you home," Sandy said.
Kirsten walked to her room later that day, a cup of coffee in her hand. She'd woken up on the couch after her first nightmare-less sleep. Too exhausted following this morning to dream, she'd guessed.
The door was ajar and Kirsten paused in front of it as a sound caught her ear. Peering around the door, Sandy was visible sitting on the bed and grasping onto the baby suit-just as Kirsten had been doing a couple of days ago. Tears were rolling down Sandy's face.
It was then that Kirsten felt guilt over something other than loosing the babies. It was then that Kirsten realized she wasn't the only one suffering. Shame took over at the thought of her actions of today and the past few days. She remained planted where she was, looking on in fascination and shock. They were on opposite sides of the door, and it was the first time Kirsten had thought of checking to see what was on the other side.
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