Sometimes when I think about it, I wonder why my brother trained me in all these weird things. I can shoot flames out of my hands, I can feel that there is something bubbling inside of me ever since I was seventeen, but I don't know how to make it bubble over so I know what that feeling is, I don't understand what this feeling is. Maybe You'll know Mr. Shrink. But I don't think that you'll get this version of the letter because I think you'll send me to an insane asylum. But maybe, just maybe that's for the best for me.
Only when I stop and think about it, it always ends up different. My name is Marie Sabelle China, or most people including you Mr. Shrink you can call me Sabelle I don't have much family left that really like me... My grandparents have never wanted anything to do with me, so I don't have any family left. When reading my mother's diaries from her childhood, and when she was pregnant with me, like her, I struggle emotionally it's like I followed right in my mother's footsteps. Looks wise, not so much, being barely five foot, and size 6 shoes, I'm only a fraction. I wish my mother was here with me, so I can ask her how she stayed strong for all those years by herself. Except for this one guy who was the only light in her world, childhood friends. To me it was clear that they were in love, even admitted it to each other but nothing happened… that's pretty stupid if you were to ask me, one thing held them back, love is strange isn't it? I remember that I had met him once when I was very young, I don't remember much except for the fact he had blue eyes. Among the many things my mother has been right about is when adults get involved EVERYTHING gets worse and I shouldn't trust them, only her my step dad, my brother, and if I ever find one that best friend. But I haven't been able to trust anyone for a long time, and I don't plan on letting anyone in for a long time. It's not worth the pain, or the sacrifice. That includes you Mr. Shrink, it's not worth trusting you, and you fall under that category for making everything worse.
Maybe if you can prove to me that you can be trusted I will give you the first version of this letter. But, I really, REALLY doubt that's going to happen.
To Mr. Shrink, there's my homework. –Sabelle.
Sabelle handed him the letter, she got this feeling around him, that she shouldn't trust him for some reason, but she couldn't explain why.
The psychologist put the letter down and glanced at her who was drawing away in her sketch book like always when she came to these sessions. "Sabelle, can you tell me anything else about your mother?"
Sabelle looked up from her drawing for a few seconds, sort of taken back by this question, expecting him to ask about the first version of the letter that she had written. She soon went back to her drawing and spoke. "My mother was a very beautiful woman, five foot eight, not very skinny, but certainly not fat. Her eyes were blue, so I must get green from my father. Her personality was light, bubbly, and she always tried to make anyone smile. Social butterfly rather she could get along with almost anybody unless you made her mad." She chuckled.
"Did she graduate?"
"My mother wasn't stupid you know." She snapped feeling slightly insulted looking up again from her near completed drawing.
"That's certainly not what I meant by that." He defended back. "I'm dropping the act of an ill-informed know-it-all." He ran a hand through his dark hair, and took of his glasses.
"Bout time Mr. Shrink, I was waiting for that." She giggled setting her drawing in front of him.
Sometimes is okay to take off your mask in front of other people, but they have to take theirs off first. Was written with Mr. Shrink holding his mask, laughing.
"Nice drawing and my name's David. Enough of that Mr. Shrink stuff."
Sabelle got out a blue note book, and wrote:
Okay, but I've decided to write to you most of the time because I'm a lot better writer that I am at talking to people… David… that means Beloved if I remember right, mine (Marie) means bitter suits me pretty damn well if you think about it.
She handed him the notebook.
"Do you want me to write back?"
"No, I just labeled in 'conversations with Mr. Shrink' for nothing." She rolled her eyes.
No need to be so rude. Tell me, why do they call you Sabelle?
Well, it started back in middle school because I found out what my name meant, I didn't want to be called bitter, and Sabelle sounded cute so I went with it honestly. How old are you?
24. Sabelle does have a cute ring to it, understandable why you don't want to be called bitter. Tell me, why did your teacher want to send you here? She seemed pretty worried after she saw your scars.
Sabelle let out a deep sigh. My teacher is a nosey ass who needs to mind her own business, I'm going ask a question, if you could have something that healed over time, rather than something that scared you half to death every single time it happened, what you chose?
Well, I would choose the things that could heal obviously. But that doesn't explain why you did those things your arms.
You want to know why I do that do my arms, legs and anywhere else that I can. It's so I can stay sane. Every day I wake up wondering if today I'll go through another attack, wondering if this attack will be worse than the last one I had, or just a small on that leads up to a bigger one later. I'm terrified of these attacks, I black out sometimes, I do things that I don't remember, or I can't remember until after a long period of time occurs, after I had to LIE about it.
What do you mean attacks?
I don't know what to really call them other than anxiety attacks, because I bottle up everything until the point where it all comes out at once. My body shakes, the tears don't stop and I repeat things like 'shut up' or 'please stop.' It's scary. But doing the things to body, or 'cutting' relieves that stress, and if I have an attack anyway then it's less severe then it could have been.
Well, I guess that's where I come in, can you tell me more about your family?</i>
I guess I can. I had one brother, a mother, and a dad. My brother was one of the most stubborn headed people you could ever meet. We both get that from my mother, tempers included. My father was a very quiet man, he didn't speak much of his work, and I don't even know what he did for a living now that I think about it. But I do know that it kept him awfully stressed sometimes, I worried about him, he's come home in almost tears, like he was scared. My mother was an art school teacher at a high school, nothing to flashy. The high school is where she graduated from too, Riverdale. Both my parents are very well respected people. </i> She handed him the note book.
Sabelle looked at him and smiled a real smile this time. This took David back a bit, not expecting her smile to be this stunning. He coughed to hide his embarrassment; he had a plan after all.
"I think it's time I gave you that ride home I promised, it's getting pretty late." He said looking outside seeing it was getting pretty dark.
She looked a bit disappointed but got up anyway. "Alright"
Here's my number, if you need anything, just call, or even if you just want to talk.
Sabelle nodded and got into to his car. "I live down the street in the apartment complex called Midnight height."
"Do you live alone?" he asked starting toward the complex.
"How long have you been living alone?" he laughed.
"About since I was 14 when my aunt kicked me out because she couldn't pay for me anymore. I got a job, and started to pay for everything myself." She stared out the window, not daring to look him in the eye.
"That's pretty tough, living on your own for so long, you're what 16?"
"Seventeen actually, my birthday was a few weeks ago. Thanks for reminding me because I totally forgot." She giggled.
"This is off topic, but what did you mean to much sacrifice when you wrote me the letter?" the curiosity was killing him.
"I did have a best friend at one time. He was like my mother's best friend the only light I had left in my life, the only person that I could and all that stuff. I even started to fall for him just like my mother, but then he did something I will never, ever forgive." She said clenching one of her fists, then realizing that the car had stopped and she was home she got out of the car. "Thanks for the ride David, see you around."