Unhinge - Calia Read Page 0,81

have no freedom and I can’t remember pieces of my past. How can you love me?”

“You think you’re not worthy of love and you expect me to believe the same thing, but I can’t. You’re a different work of art, Victoria. The seams of your soul are uneven, and fraying at the edges. But you were created that way and I think it’s the most beautiful thing I’ll ever see.”

I stand there at a complete loss for words. Sinclair gives me a sad smile. “I’ll see you soon, okay?”

And then he’s gone, walking down the hall with the nurse reprimanding him the whole time.

I watch him walk away, and feel something break around my heart.

Hear the echo of my heartbeat?

I ache.

I ache.

I ache.

My feet drag toward Dr. Calloway’s office.

Evelyn is with Susan and I don’t care.

I don’t care.

I really don’t.

Does that make me a terrible mom? Absolutely.

My mind feels like a fighter in the ring being hit over and over with words and explanations. It is bruised and battered and very close to breaking.

I knock once before I enter Calloway’s office. The door shuts softly behind me. I sit across from Calloway, my hands laced in front of me. The nervous energy is impossible to contain. It hovers around me like a swarm of bees, threatening to attack me at any second.

“You look tired, Victoria,” says Dr. Calloway. “Are you not sleeping well?”

“I’m sleeping fine,” I mumble. It’s a complete lie, but how am I supposed to explain that the voices inside my head are getting louder, more aggressive, more demanding as time goes by?

It’s simple: I can’t.

“Where is your baby today?” Dr. Calloway asks. I see a trace of concern in her eyes.

“She’s with Susan.”

“That’s good.”

“How so?”

“You’re getting a small break,” she explains. “Some breathing room.”

I snort. “If you say so.”

“Everyone needs time to themselves,” Dr. Calloway says. “There’s nothing wrong with that.”

“Everything is wrong with that.” The words tumble out before I can process them. After that there’s no controlling what I say; I have to get it off my chest. “Good moms love and protect their child. No matter how they’re feeling.”

I watch Dr. Calloway carefully, looking for any trace of judgment. But there’s nothing.

“You don’t feel like you’re protecting your baby? I promise you that Susan will take good care of her.”

“It’s not that. It’s just…it’s…”

“It’s what?”

In frustration, I close my eyes, rub my temples, and take a deep breath. I try to sort through my thoughts and feelings so I can adequately explain myself.

“It’s just that lately, my daughter can’t stand to be around me,” I finally confess.

“What makes you think that?”

“All she does is cry.” I tuck my hands one beneath the other to stop myself from picking at my nails. “No matter how hard I try she doesn’t calm down. It’s like…it’s like she hates me.”

Dr. Calloway sits back in her chair. “I’m sure she doesn’t.”

Abruptly, I stand up and start to pace the room. “But she does. Lately, whenever I stare into her eyes, I see no acknowledgment. It’s like I’m a stranger to her.”

“How does that make you feel?”

“Awful!” I explode.

“What I mean is, do you feel yourself becoming distant from her too?”

I stop walking and turn to face Calloway. “Yes.”

“And it makes you feel like a bad mom,” she says.

Anxiously, I nod my head. “Yes, absolutely.”

“There’s nothing to worry about.” I give her a dirty look. All she does is smile. “I mean it. You’re under a lot of pressure right now, experiencing pieces of your past that aren’t always easy to experience a second time.”

I drag my fingers through my hair. I want to scream. I want to cry. I want to laugh. I want to do anything and everything and nothing all at the same time.

It doesn’t make sense, but nothing about me right now makes sense.

Dr. Calloway turns a paper and slides it toward me. The dates and words blend together. I can decipher nothing. What I know with a certainty is that this time line is insanity by numbers.

Why did I do this? Why did I open Pandora’s box? Is my life here truly that bad that I willingly put myself through this torture?

There are so many questions and I can’t give a single honest answer.

“I’m losing it. I’m really losing it,” I say into my palms.

After a moment of silence, my hands drop to my sides. I lift my head.

Dr. Calloway doesn’t say a word. Her eyes are blank. No judgment. No pity. But honestly,