Chapter 10
Jazmine Allen
T herapist appointments are daunting.
It doesn’t matter what stage of healing I’m in, every time I walk through the whitewashed hallway to Dr Gray’s office, my stomach churns. Butterflies form in my gut, flying into my chest as if their goal is to stop my heart. Or maybe my lungs. It isn’t a fun experience.
Friday mornings are the only time I have to schedule appointments, so like clockwork, I sit on a navy couch pouring my emotions out to my therapist.
“Jazmine,” Dr Gray says, nodding to me. “How have you been?”
The dreaded question. How does one answer this? Dr Gray banned the word ‘fine’ from her office after I used it too much. Emotions are hard to express, especially when you don’t want to break down and embarrass yourself.
As a psychology student, I know the thought is irrational but after years of feeling this way, it becomes a way of life. In the past, I’d compare myself to my brother who seemed to be successful at everything he did. I know better now.
Healing is something you have to do for yourself.
“I’ve been busy, all my classes are becoming pretty intense,”
Dr Gray nods, scribbling something in a notebook. She is a middle-aged woman, who also studied psychology at Lakewood University. It was the first subject we bonded over. It’s been over five months since our first appointment together and I’ve opened up more than I have with anyone.
“Are you taking care of yourself though? What is your sleep schedule like?”
Damn this woman. She knows me too well. I dart my gaze toward an open window, searching for anything interesting to distract myself with. At least until I can think of an answer.
“It’s messy,” I begin, cracking my knuckles—one by one, on each hand. Another one of my coping mechanisms or maybe it’s a nervous tick. Either way, it relieves some of my stress .
“Last night was good, I think it was around seven hours. But the night before was only five,”
For once, it didn’t take three hours to fall asleep and I didn’t wake up at random times throughout the night. This morning, I felt rested. No lingering fatigue weighing my shoulders down or tension straining my muscles.
“Are you sticking with only one coffee a day?” Dr Gray asks, raising an eyebrow.
I swallow, remembering all my late-night study sessions over the past couple days. “I may have had a one slip up,” Not a total lie although it was more like three slip ups.
“And how is your relationship with food progressing?”
I roll my eyes. Despite what my therapist thinks, I don’t have an eating disorder. I just forget to eat. Not on purpose either, as in I become so focused on a task and eating slips my mind.
Last year, one of my subjects was identifying and assessing symptoms of a neurodivergent brain, which made me consider getting assessed for ADHD, after I realised, I tick most of the boxes.
The session continues for an hour. Dr Gray expresses concern about my schedule as there is a potential to overwork myself. But I dismissed her. I know my body. At the moment, everything is fine.
I’m even going to a party with Sofia and Athena this weekend, which I never do. In freshman and a little bit of sophomore year I did, but now with the stakes of junior year, I won't have time after this week.
Finally, I leave Dr Gray’s office and drive to campus for Cognitive Psychology , it is my only class today. Everything is relatively close, so I arrive at the lecture theatre ten minutes early. As it is one of my core courses for junior year, Theodore isn’t here, which allows me at least two hours of peace and quiet.
This class is taught by Dr Kendra Yang, my favourite professor. She is always providing me with opportunities to network and expand my scope of learning.
Last year, we travelled to New York for a conference that discussed the future of medicine. Not only did I interact with sports psychologists but other medical professionals.
Another reason Dr Yang is my idol is her dedication to encouraging more women to go into medicine. In the past, any internships or work experience I gained were useless. It probably makes me sound ungrateful, but the only task I was given was to fetch coffee. Never had I been more insulted.
I snap my hairband against my wrist where a bruise is forming, the pain bringing my attention back to the lecture. It is one coping mechanism I don't share with Dr Gray.
Time passes quickly as I annotate the PowerPoint slides I downloaded onto my iPad before class. Most of my writing would seem like scribble to a normal person. I’m already dreading retyping them. I fold my case over the screen and pack it into my tote bag .
I drive home within minutes, parking my car in the underground lot. Sofia bombards me as I walk in the door, not giving me anytime to place my bag down.
“Be honest,” she starts. “What do you think of this?”
Athena comes out of her room in one of Sofia’s designs. I have seen it plastered against her wall with multiple post it notes, each questioning the fabric’s colour and type.
The purple dress has a halter neck and it crosses over the chest, highlighting Athena’s cleavage. The rest of the dress is straight, landing above the knees, while her hips and curves are accentuated.
“It is beautiful, Sof,”
Honestly, there are so many words I want to use to describe it, but nothing comes. Athena and I are always modelling Sofia’s designs, every time they get better. I still don’t know how it is possible.
“Are you wearing it to the party?” I ask.
Austin will melt into the ground after seeing her in this dress. I wouldn’t be surprised if he whisks her away from the party to do some very inappropriate activities. That’s how it usually goes anyway.
“If Sofia wants me to,”
“Yes,”
I giggle at her immediate response.
“Help me with my outfit?”
Sofia doesn’t hesitate, dragging me into my room to work her magic. She pulls clothes from the shopping bags which we bought earlier today. Most items end up scattered across the bedroom floor as Sofia decides what outfit I should wear.
A smile pulls at my lips, I’ve never seen someone so passionate. It shines through every design Sofia creates. This girl is undoubtedly the future of fashion. I know she is excited for the next couple months as she has an internship in New York for a week.
My green eyes brighten against the pastel pink top, the neckline sitting just above my breasts. It was an immediate buy when I tried it on as it does wonders for my chest while the black miniskirt Sofia has chosen for me hugs the soft curves of my hips and thighs.
I used to be so self-conscious of them, but it turns out if you wear clothes that match your body type, your confidence grows. Sofia fixes my curls, adding extra volume and hairspray to help it stick. But I tie my hair into a ponytail, not wanting it to be a nuisance.
This is more my style.
The three of us gather on the bottom floor of our building as we wait for two other girls. They are driving which is convenient for us since Sofia, Athena and I all plan to drink.
“Okay, remember the rules?” Athena asks.
All of us nod. During freshman year, a couple of girls were drugged, luckily, nothing bad happened, but ever since, we have had three rules.
One: Never take a drink from anyone. Not even each other.
Two: Always tell one person if you’re leaving with someone. And turn on location sharing .
Three: Use the emergency hand signal if in immediate danger.
Thankfully, the three of us have never been in any danger but it is better to be safe than sorry. The drive is short and filled with party music to pump the five of us up. The noise coming from the Hockey House is extreme. Regret climbs up my spine as we enter the party but I force it down.
Fun. You came here to have fun. I repeat this to myself multiple times, hoping it will stop my brain from overthinking. I need alcohol. Drinking helps me relax as I can forget every responsibility for the night. Is it a healthy coping mechanism? No, but if it stops my insomnia for the night; then, it’s worth it.
Athena waves at Austin across the room, who immediately melts when he looks at her, while Sofia goes to flirt with anybody she can find. I head straight for the kitchen, as I know that is where all the alcohol is stored.
“Jaz!”
A shirtless Sam Morris is standing before me with a flirty grin. I huff out a laugh, shaking my head.
“Is wearing a shirt optional now?”
His eyes follow the outline of my figure. The short skirt highlights my curves and long legs.
“Definitely should be for you,”
Unexpectedly, a shirt is thrown at Sam’s chest. Jayden narrows his eyes at the both of us. Overprotective brothers are the worst.
“Stop flirting with my sister,” Jay says sternly .
Sam grins even wider but obeys the silent command to wear a shirt. “Why? It’s so fun to see you riled up,”
“Don’t make me bruise your other cheek,”
I snort. Men. Pouring myself a drink, I down it in seconds. I’m not intoxicated enough.
“Slow down,” Jayden states.
I scoff, walking away from him. My mind continues to run riot as I dance with my friends, yet the more I drink, the more my brain seems to get the message. The three of us shout lyrics to Taylor Swift, laughing and smiling. It is good to let loose at the start of the year before my classes get too hectic.
Hands wrap around my waist, floating down to my hips. I step away and look up at the rugged guy. “Don’t touch me,” I slur, while a weight builds in my chest, forcing my breathing to become sparse.
This is not good.
“Don’t be like that. Let’s have some fun,”
His strange hands attempt to grab me again as if consent doesn’t exist to him. Fuck I hate men. The stranger is rough with his hands digging into my stomach. I gather enough strength to push him away from me. He mustn’t expect it—or he is too drunk to stand, because he falls to the ground.
“You fucking bitch,”
Everything shakes. Arms. Legs. Hands. Then the spinning starts. Fuck. I try to use my breathing exercises but I’m too far gone for them to work. I twist the ring around my middle finger, trying to calm down. Nothing works as I struggle up the stairs of the Hockey House. Jay’s bedroom is around here somewhere. A piercing ring assaults my ears, making its way into my brain.
Breathe in. Breathe out.
My chest rises erratically. After what feels like a lifetime of searching, I crash onto my brother’s bed. The pounding of my heart thuds in my ears. My vision blurs, black and white spots appearing.
Fuck.
Tears stream down my cheeks as a pit grows in my stomach, making the nausea even worse.
Why didn’t I find Sofia or Athena? I thought they were next to me.
In this moment, as my eyes fluttered shut, I’ve never felt more alone.