I faked a smile after I kissed the hand of the man who abused me.
"Do you think of yourself as a good person?" He was seated on a plushy leather chair, arms rested comfortably on both sides while one leg was crossed over the other. Numerous diplomas were elegantly framed on the wall as his gaze wandered all over her office. "No, I don't," he answered after his gaze finally returned squarely on his therapist.
Six months had passed since that mysterious stranger showed up out of nowhere at the diner. I'll never forget those eyes, and how he changed my life for the better. My grief was gone , but the memories were still there, though they no longer haunted me. I still hadn't stopped thinking about Sophie, she was always a part of me. It was because of her that I decided to go back to school, further my education so that I could learn better ways of helping people. Even in death, she still had some form of influence over me.
That's correct. This is just a simulation of the real thing. To put it bluntly, Miss James, we're inside your head." She frowned, looked at her sketchpad and said, "That explains a lot." "Why do you say that?" She then proceeded to show me what she was drawing. It was a bald man in a long, dark overcoat, wearing sunglasses with the words "free your mind" written next to him. "For some weird reason I had a strong compulsion to draw Morpheus from 'The Matrix'. Now I know why." I smiled. "May I sit?" She nodded. I sat next to her and stayed silent for a while, taking in the scenery. For some inexplicable reason it reminded me of my first meeting with Homer. Maybe it was the sound of the waves that triggered this memory. Or maybe it was the cries of the seagulls. Miss James resumed sketching the man named Morpheus. The god of dreams, why a man would be given such a name I cannot fathom.
At face value his comments were labelled racist, sexist, anti Islamic, nonsensical and totally absurd. Which is true. But it made me realise one thing: None of the ignorant values and beliefs many Americans possessed truly went away. They were simply suppressed and lay dormant, because it was no longer mainstream to make a casual racist remark, nor was it socially acceptable to oppress women.
I looked into those obsidian eyes with purpose, and soon my surroundings changed to a swirling tornado of black. Sounds of miserable lamentations, images of teary eyes and broken hearts threatened to overwhelm me. My throat felt constricted and I could feel this asphyxiating sensation burn my lungs. I suddenly screamed until the sun was up again and the roaring voice of the sea flooded my ears.
Ever since I started college, I have made no friends. I chose not to anyway. I have slept little, thanks to the nightmares that haunt me every night. And I have been constantly running away from something, though I knew that it would inevitably catch up with me someday. I resumed my sketching, but no sooner had pencil touched paper, than I saw a man seemingly appear out of nowhere from the corner of my eye.