Wicked Love - Michelle Dare Page 0,7

woods.

The dreams I've been having aren't normal at all. They seem to be bits and pieces of a reality I don't remember. And I know why. When I wake, the reactions are always the same: heart pounding, palms sweating, and shallow breathing. My sudden awakening from these is my escape, which is both comforting and frustrating, which I know makes no damn sense.

But my shrink says, in time, I will remember. She says my emotional healing takes time, maybe even more time than my physical healing.

I roll to my side, and then quickly roll back. My physical therapy is finally over, and as much as I hated it, I can't deny that it's done the job in chasing away the pain. My ribs no longer hurt, and I don't even require the medical marijuana I was prescribed any longer.

I finished the P.T. in mid-December, but immediately after, the psychological therapy commenced. And just as expected, the emotional healing was becoming the most painful bitch of all.

My shrink, Dr. Kingsley, has explained that these dreams are termed as Recollection Memory Dreams. In time, she assures me, I will have the full picture if I continue to get therapy, to allow those dreams to provide the full story.

PART TWO

Present Day

6

Back in the Saddle - Almost

One thing you need to know about me is that I'm a lot stronger than my family gives me credit. So on Memorial Day weekend, when I announce I'm returning to Columbia, starting with summer session the following week, I watch as my family turns to stone. "Hey, I can knock out a few electives for my degree program, and get back in the saddle again for next semester," I explain.

The room becomes cloaked in stony silence, and it reminds me of when you hit the 'pause' button on the television remote. Frozen in time for just a few seconds.

Let me back up here a second. I initially had no plans to return to NYC – ever. Still, the healing process has given me strength, and my stubborn nature is now fully intact. It's time. I need to deal with the dark secrets that have become a part of me. A part that I no longer need to make me feel safe.

Of course, my father is the first to speak. "That's entirely out of the question, Carson. We all decided you'll resume your studies at the college or university of your choice, as long as it's in the vicinity. It was actually your choice if you recall."

"Your father's right, honey," my mother chirps in, giving me a warm smile. "You felt it was a good decision, remember? It's better for you to be with us for the rest of the academic year to make sure you're. . ."

"Safe?" I supply. "That's what you guys really mean, isn't it? What? You think I can't be safe anywhere but here, under your watchful eyes? I'm not scared anymore, if anything, I'm emboldened."

"Carson," my brother Weston pipes up, "Why don't you consider transferring to Stanford? That way you'll be close to me and Peyton in Cali. You get along so well with Peyton. I know she'd love having you close by."

I roll my eyes. My brother is so transparent. And I love him for it. "So, then you and Peyton can keep an eye on me, is that it?"

"Mom, Daddy, Weston - I appreciate your concern, really I do, but I'm not going to let what happened to me affect the rest of my college years. Where does it stop after that, huh? I live with Mommy and Daddy the rest of my life? I don't think so. I thought long and hard about this. I need to continue with my studies at Columbia. I have a lot to make-up, and I've already contacted the registrar about the summer classes. I'm twenty years old, and unless you want to pull the funding for my tuition, I am going back."

My father starts to say something, but Mom hushes him. "Easton, let's discuss this later. For now, let's just get through the holiday weekend. We'll talk more after Memorial Day."

Typical Mom. It's almost like she's got that Scarlet O'Hara thing going on when it comes to dealing with adversity head-on.

So, be that as it may, I knew I'd be back in The Big Apple in two weeks for the elective classes I'd registered to take. My schedule for next semester had already been locked in. I needed to get back in the groove,