Chapter 47
Five Years Later
Five years of the metal cart rolling down the hallway every morning at seven forty-five.
Five years of therapy. Five years of being locked in a place where I’d chosen to stay so Katherine could live in peace and not face the ugliness of the world.
She chose not to, and I respected that. None of this was her burden to bear.
It wasn’t her fault we were created. She didn’t wake up one morning and decide she wanted a fractured mind.
She was a frightened little girl whose world became too terrifying for one soul to carry alone.
So her mind did the only thing it knew how to do. It survived.
Sunny protected fun and joy. The Librarian protected memories. Sydney protected innocence. And I? I carried the rage. Without us, there wouldn’t have been a Katherine left for us to save. The system wasn’t her failure. It was her mind’s masterpiece. We were proof that she refused to die.
I used to think our system was nothing but a collection of damaged parts. But in the end, we were only survivors, protecting the innocence of a five-year-old child.
The smell of fresh coffee drifted from the kitchenette to the right of the day room.
“Morning, Dahlia.” Nurse Young smiled as I poured myself a cup of coffee.
“Morning.” I smiled back.
With my coffee in hand, I walked across the room toward my usual chair beside the window.
It had become my spot over the years, and everyone knew it.
It had become a morning ritual. I stared out into the courtyard.
The maple trees had begun turning shades of burgundy and gold.
October had always been my favorite month of the year.
It reminded me of myself. Autumn was when you’d finally begun letting pieces of yourself fall away.
Not the pieces that made you who you are.
The pieces that were never yours to carry in the first place.
Five years ago, I would have seen that as weakness.
But today? I saw it as courage. Healing wasn’t about becoming someone new.
It was having the courage to let go of the person trauma convinced you that you had become.
“Morning, Dahlia.” George walked over. “Are you ready for your session with Dr. Bondi?”
“I am.” I smiled, getting up from my chair.
“Dahlia, good morning,” Dr. Bondi said when I stepped into her office.
“Morning, Dr. Bondi.” I took a seat on the couch. The same couch I’d sat on almost every day for the last five years.
“I have something I’d like to show you.” She walked over to her desk and picked up a thick stack of pages bound together with a black binder clip.
“You finished it?”
“I did.” She smiled.
I’d watched that manuscript grow over the last couple of years. Every so often she’d mention another chapter she finished or how she’d spent the weekend rewriting a specific section because she wanted to make sure she’d got it right.
She handed the manuscript to me, and I felt the weight of it in my hands.
“So, this is us.” I ran my hand across the top page.
“It is. I think it’s important for people to understand exactly what trauma could do to a person’s mind. People are afraid of the things they don’t understand.”
“I get it.” I smiled.
“Would you like to take that with you and read it? I’d love your thoughts.”
“Really? You’d let me?”
“Of course. You are one of the main characters.”
“Can I go and get started now?” I grinned with excitement.
“Of course.” Dr. Bondi smiled. “Just try not to be too harsh when you finish it.”
“I won’t. I’m sure you told our story perfectly.”
I took the manuscript and went back to my room.
Climbing onto the bed, I started with page one.
After eating lunch, I continued. After dinner, I continued.
I’d spent the day reading Dr. Bondi’s manuscript, and the thought of how good it was filtered through my mind.
She’d captured each of us perfectly. It was late, so I set the manuscript on the nightstand.
As I rested my head on the pillow, an eerie feeling coursed through me.
I couldn’t make out what the feeling was.
It was one I hadn’t felt in so long. Maybe after reading Dr. Bondi’s book, it triggered something inside of what I used to be.
What I had to become to protect Katherine.
I’d come a long way since I was first placed inside Bellevue.
I was better. I no longer had the anger. No desire to murder cheating men.
A few months ago, I overheard two of the nurses talking. One of the nurses became teary-eyed, telling the other nurse how she’d just found out her husband was cheating on her.
“I don’t know what to do. I found messages on his phone. He’s been cheating with his assistant for months. How could he do this to our children and me?” The other nurse wrapped her arm around her shoulders and comforted her.
Five years ago, those words would have ignited something inside me.
My heart would start racing, and my thoughts would have become dark.
I would have convinced myself that another predator deserved to be punished for his sins.
But instead, I walked away and didn’t give it a second thought.
The familiar rage that used to rise deep inside me never came.
There was no voice telling me to fix it.
There was no overwhelming need to make someone suffer.
And the most important thing? There was no desire to become judge, jury, and executioner.
Back then, anger was my armor. It protected me when Katherine couldn’t protect herself.
But somewhere over the last five years of therapy, the armor had become too heavy to carry anymore.
I’d come to realize that another man’s betrayal didn’t make me want to destroy him. And that felt like freedom.
My head was starting to hurt, so I closed my eyes and went to sleep.
The following morning, I woke up. The headache I’d had last night still lingered, but not as bad.
It was tolerable. I glanced over at the easel and noticed a new painting.
Sydney must have been here last night. I climbed out of bed and furrowed my brows as I approached the painting.
I studied it, and a sick feeling rose from the pit of my stomach.
Sydney
A knock on the door startled me. And then it opened.
“Dahlia, it’s time for breakfast.” The orderly smiled.
“Okay. I have a session with Dr. Bondi today, right?” I asked.
“You do.” He glanced at his watch. “That’s why you need to get over to breakfast now so you have time to eat before your session.”
“Okay. I’ll get dressed.”
“You seem different today,” he said.
“Do I?” I smiled.
I pulled on a pair of sweatpants and a T-shirt.
I slipped my feet into a pair of Crocs and went as the nice orderly led me to the dining room.
My eyes widened at the selection of food.
I grabbed a small box of Frosted Flakes, a carton of milk, and a bowl and spoon.
I took it to the table and quickly ate my favorite cereal.
Before heading to a session with Dr. Bondi, I grabbed a nice red apple from the basket.
Dr. Bondi always ate apples. She loved them.
I also stopped by my room first and grabbed the painting I painted last night. Dr. Bondi needed to see it.
“Dahlia, good morning.” Dr. Bondi smiled.
“It’s me, Dr. Bondi,” I whispered.
“Sydney?”
I nodded.
“Where’s Dahlia?”
“She has a headache, so she’s sleeping. She needs to rest.”
“Oh, okay. Is that one of your paintings?” She pointed to the canvas in my hand.
I nodded and handed it to her. I sat cross-legged on the couch while Dr. Bondi studied it.
“The cottage.” She smiled. “I see you painted everyone in the rockers on the porch. There’s Katherine, Dahlia, Sunny, The Librarian, and yourself. Who’s missing?” She frowned, staring at me.
“No one.” I smiled.
“Then why is there another chair sitting empty?”
“Because someone’s coming home,” I whispered.
Thank you for reading Little Twisted Things.