Chapter Fourteen
Tera
I wake up stiff and disoriented. With the car turned off, the temperature inside has gotten freezing. My flowy dress is no match for the weather despite its cheerful color. I feel dumb for even putting it on. Who wears bright green when they feel super crappy?
My stomach makes the odd gurgle sound that’s becoming familiar, but I can’t move to get out and find something to eat. I don’t want to drive anymore, either. I’m so tired and weak.
The candy bar I’ve been taking random bites out of sits on the passenger seat, and I glare at it through my swollen lids. I wish it would just teleport into my stomach to get some relief. Every time I try to bite into it, I dry heave. The few times I’ve managed to swallow it down, I’ve thrown up. Something isn’t right with me. A lot of things aren’t right with me.
I never realized how far away South lived from me until yesterday night. I’m not even halfway to her, and I’m giving up. Yet, she drives to me every single time I need her. I can’t even call her because I threw my phone out of the window when it wouldn’t stop buzzing.
The helpless tears start falling again, and I want to scream at them to stop. I need a break from whatever this is so I can think!
I give it a few minutes, which turns into a nap because when I open my eyes, the sun is going down.
Where am I?
I tilt the seat up and look around at the barren neighborhood around me. This is not the rest stop I thought I had pulled over at. Crap. I’m on someone’s front lawn, I bet. Directly in front of me is a sign I can barely make out through blurry eyes. It’s one giant word, and it’s red. What does that say? I rub my eyes and try again. The clouds part as my vision clears, and a feeble ray of sunlight illuminates the word, making my breath catch.
Therapist.
Holy cow.
This is fate, I’m sure of it.
I somehow find the strength to stumble out of the car, ignoring the wind and snow to struggle inside. When the receptionist looks up with a bored expression, I watch as it morphs into some halfway point between horror and pity. I don’t want to know what I look like to her.
“Please help me. I-I-I think I just need someone to listen for a minute. Please.”