Pull (Seaside 2)

I would die before I let anything happen to my parents’ livelihood, and I would happily take Demetri with me. It wasn’t as if I had anything exciting going on now.

Shoving the door to the counter away, I went back to the stool and picked up my cell. Ten missed calls.

“Crap.” I quickly scrolled through the missed numbers.

It was Mrs. Murray, my counselor. I looked at the clock on the wall. “Crap!” I said again, grabbing my keys and running for the door. “Dad! I’m going to be late for my appointment!”

He appeared from the back room. “Oh, okay, Honey. You need me to drive you?” His eyes briefly held mine before looking down at the ground. He knew how uncomfortable cars made me after everything that had happened.

“Um, no. I’ll be fine. It’s only a few miles away. Love you!” I heard him tell me to be careful as I ran out the door.

**** I ran into the large beach house and practically beat down my counselor’s door.

“Alyssa! I was worried you weren’t going to make it.” Mrs.

Murray was in her late forties and wore spectacles that constantly slipped down her nose. Her brown hair was always in a bun, and she always dressed as if she was in a hurry. In fact, she did everything like she was in a hurry. Everything but the listening and talking part of her job. I imagined she would probably work in her sleep if she could.

I gave her a tight smile. “Yeah, well, I’m here.” If I didn’t show, she would just tell my parents, and then I’d be on suicide watch for no reason. At least that was the fear. It wasn’t as if she could do that based solely on the fact that I didn’t show up. But last time I didn’t show up… well, let’s just say my parents caught me in my bathroom staring at a bottle of ibuprofen and flipped. I told them I had a headache, but that was the exact moment my dad also asked me to open my hand. I swear the bottle had spilled, and I was just trying to put the pills back in. But they didn’t believe me.

Nobody did. Story of my life.

The smell of peppermint tea greeted me as I waltzed into the small office and took a seat on the leather couch. Mrs. Murray did an amazing job with the ambiance. I could almost forget that she was a shrink, and I was there to tell her all my innermost secrets and feelings — almost.

“So.” She fell into the leather chair across from me and pulled out her notepad. “We’re almost to the two-year anniversary of the incident.”

I wanted to give some sort of snide remark. I mean, hello? I was living this nightmare. Believe me, I knew exactly what the day was. I knew exactly how many days I had left, and even if I could forget, my nightmares constantly reminded me of the hell I was living every single day.

“Yup.” I managed to shrug nonchalantly. I should have been an actress. With a quick smile I leaned back onto the couch and exhaled, knowing what she was going to ask next.

“And how do you feel about that?”

“How do I feel?” I repeated, feeling the familiar anger thump through my chest. “I feel fan-freaking-tastic. I mean, I’ve learned so much about myself in these past two years. I’m going to take up watercolors to share my feelings. And hopefully, later this afternoon, I’ll frolic across the beach and giggle until I fall to my knees and pet a mermaid when it joins me on the sand.”

“Sarcasm.” Mrs. Murray scribbled something on her notepad and glanced back up. “Good. At least you’re not burying your anger inside anymore. What else?”

Sweat began to pool at the back of my neck as I fought to keep my emotions in check. My eyes flickered to the ground, and my breathing grew more and more shallow. “I hate it here.”

“We’ve been over this, Alyssa.” Mrs. Murray sighed. “I know you hate it here, but do you really think the best thing for you to do is escape your current situation? So, what? You run away instead of facing your fears? Your anxiety? Tell me how that will help you, and I’ll be all for it, Alyssa.”

I bit my lip in response and tucked my hair behind my ears.

Biting my lip was a nervous habit I developed when I was either trying to keep myself from talking too much or crying. It was usually the latter these days.

“Listen, Alyssa.” Mrs. Murray set her tablet on the table next to her and leaned forward. “I’m going to be doing a summer grief group. I really want you to think about attending.”

“You’re not going to make me?” I snapped. I didn’t mean to sound so harsh, but I always felt defensive, because I knew the only way I could please my parents was to come here. And in all honesty, I also knew that I probably wouldn’t be here in the first place, if I hadn’t gotten into that truck.

I owed them.

Just like I owed Brady.

“I’ll think about it,” I mumbled.

Mrs. Murray smiled. “I think you’ll really enjoy it, Alyssa.

There will be some other kids your age. Support groups offer exactly that, support. When was the last time you even went out with friends? Or went to a movie?”

“I work.” I shrugged.

She lifted an eyebrow and grabbed her notepad to scribble something else. “Right, so you work twenty-four seven, can’t drive more than ten miles outside of town, and you think you’re just fine?”

My eyes flickered to hers then back to the ground, and I swallowed slowly. “I know I’m not fine.”

“Go on.”

“It’s just… I don’t think I’ll ever be fine again. I feel broken.”