Page 15

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The week flew by, especially since I purposely tried to make time pass as fast as possible.

I got ahead on a lot of school work and constantly went to the gym or did mid-day runs on the treadmill.

I also had dinner at Zion and Sarai's place every night.

We even did breakfast on Wednesday since Zion and I have class together then.

Kaia managed to text me every morning to the point where I had to put her on do not disturb to help my peace of mind.

She wasn't saying anything bad—just good morning or how much she misses me.

I'm just thankful she hasn't tried to show up at my apartment or something, but I also couldn't see her going to those lengths after I told her I wanted space.

I wouldn't even open the door for her if she did show up.

However, Friday morning I noticed another text from her in my text log.

It was a paragraph, which quickly grasped my attention—wondering what she had said now.

"She's only focused on herself," Sarai said, glancing away from my phone that Zion was still looking at as he read over Kaia's text, "She only apologized again, said she misses you, and that her dad texted her."

"Which I feel really bad about," I sighed, knowing how complicated her relationship with her dad was.

I should be there for her.

"That's what she wants," Zion said, handing my phone back to me as he focused on the pancake mix he was whisking.

I pursed my lips, "Is it?" I asked as Sarai buttered the pan up.

"It feels like she mentioned it to get sympathy points," Sarai admitted as Zion nodded a few times.

I sighed, "That or she needs me for something related to her," I admitted, sitting down on the barstool at the kitchen island across from them.

Maybe she doesn't care about any of this.

She just wants me back by her side just like it was before.

She also needs help with her dad and I'm the only one who can relate...

At the same time, if it were my mother, I would want her support too.

So where does that leave me?

I shook my head at my thoughts, deciding to push them far away, "So do you guys have any plans tonight?" I decided to ask them, focusing on a different topic.

I guess I wouldn't mind staying in but occupying my time with something would be nice.

"We're going to this school event," Zion said probably the last thing I would want to do in my free time.

"It's for my extra credit," Sarai quickly explained, probably noticing the blank expression on my face, "There are mock-tails though and we can get all dressed up."

I hummed at the idea, genuinely considering something as boring as a school event over staying inside and watching Netflix all night.

I've been staying inside all week though—this seems like the only option closest to going out.

I can still stay inside on Saturday too.

If it's really that bad I can just leave the event entirely.

"Okay, what are we wearing?" I asked as Zion began pouring circles of pancake batter in the large pan.

"I'm thinking like a cute dress—you know, cocktail attire," Sarai said as she grabbed a handful of blueberries, carefully placing them on top of the cooking pancakes, "But we're not drinking cocktails," she emphasized jokingly.

"It'll still be cute—and almost like I'm drinking a cocktail," I said with a happy smile.

"Except it's just juice and an orange slice hanging on the rim," Zion said, chuckling when I rolled my eyes.

"You get on my nerves," I mumbled even if my smile grew more amused, grabbing the carton of orange juice to pour me a glass.

I also poured two more for Sarai and Zion as they focused on cooking the pancakes together.

It made me feel annoyingly single, watching Zion pour the batter and Sarai add the blueberries.

I'm not the type to care about being single—if anything it's freeing to me.

But then Zion and Sarai come along...

I swear it's like they don't even try.

They're just naturally touchy and lovey-dovey.

Even as we ate breakfast, Sarai leaned closer to Zion—and he would occasionally kiss her temple.

And then there I am... sitting with the blankest stare on my face.

I'm happy for them though—they've been together for four years now and seem like true soulmates.

After breakfast, we walked Sarai to class even though Zion and I didn't have class ourselves.

Since their apartment is right by campus, it wasn't that long of a walk, and Zion and I decided to go to the library for study purposes.

That alone was enough to distract me from therapy at five today.

I threw myself into studying for a few hours, grabbing lunch with Zion at a nearby sandwich shop.

Then it was time to head back to my apartment and get ready for my therapy session.

I went for a comfier outfit today since I'm planning to get ready for this school event right after I'm done with therapy.

A pair of black sweatpants and a matching long-sleeve shirt is what I settled on—the shirt clinging to my torso as the baggy sweatpants emphasized my upper body.

The long sleeve had a v-cut, emphasizing my cleavage on display.

I took the time to slick my curly hair into a bun, gelling down my baby hairs to frame my face.

The hairstyle looked so good that I even planned to keep it for tonight.

I left my face bare, also deciding to do my makeup later rather than now.

Lastly, I slid on a pair of Nike's, spraying myself in perfume before exiting my room.

I was on time for once, taking my time heading down to the parking garage.

Traffic was even worse than usual considering it was almost five o'clock on a Friday.

Luckily, I was on time and planned ahead for traffic.

I was very determined to make it to my session on time today.

Mostly, because Dr. Leclair had highlighted my lateness last time.

As usual, Sienna sat beside Reagan at their shared desk—the lobby calm and empty.

"I'm here for my appointment with Dr. Leclair," I told Sienna in a polite tone.

She smiled in response, "You can head back," she told me, staying put in her chair where she belonged.

I nodded once, turning around to walk down the familiar hallway.

As I passed other closed doors, I quickly noticed her presence emerge further down.

Dr. Kincaid.

She had files in her arms, clearly in the middle of handling work matters.

"Hi," I decided to say, trying to keep it brief given the files stacked on her arms.

Even if she didn't look bothered by the added weight whatsoever.

Her dark hair was down for once, wearing a white blouse and dress pants.

"Hey, Liberty," she said with her usual smile.

But all I could pick up on was my lengthened name she used.

"No Libby today?" I decided to ask her, stopping right by her in the hallway.

"I'm not your personal therapist. It's more appropriate this way," Dr. Kincaid said, her smile still prominent.

I furrowed my brows, unconsciously glancing down to the open door of her office.

I wondered if Dr. Leclair had anything to do with this sudden name change—especially after our last conversation.

Or if she's listening to this conversation right now.

"Okay..." I trailed off awkwardly, keeping a smile on my lips, "How has your day been?"

"Good," Dr. Kincaid said, her dark eyes trailing my face for a moment, "How has yours been?"

My smile grew, "Really good, I got a lot done," I decided to tell her, "Your hair looks really nice down," I purposely added, hoping Dr. Leclair was listening to us.

"Thank you, Liberty," Dr. Kincaid said, tilting her head slightly as her eyes traced my face for a moment.

There was a brief silence between us.

Until Dr. Kincaid suddenly cleared her throat, "I should probably handle these," she said, nodding to the files in her arms, "And you have a session to get to."

I smiled slightly, "I can be late," I purposely said, my amusement furthering at the idea of Dr. Leclair actually overhearing our conversation, "Need any help?"

Dr. Kincaid's smile grew amused at my words, "You are aware you're a patient at this firm?" she said, making my smile grow.

"Well, I love being put to work," I said, my tone lowered between us as I held her stare.

Dr. Kincaid hummed, her lips parting to say something else—

"Liberty."

I glanced past Dr. Kincaid at the familiar smooth voice, my eyes landing on Dr. Leclair immediately.

She wore a black blazer with matching dress pants—her silky dark hair in a low bun with her bangs framing her sharp face.

Her sharp stilettos shined under the dim lights along with the silver necklace around her neck.

"Oh hi, doc," I said, smiling innocently at her.

She didn't say anything—she only motioned her head at the open doorway of her office, silently telling me to come on.

"That's my cue," I said, glancing back to Dr. Kincaid, "If I don't see you again today, I hope your weekend is good," I decided to tell her, flashing my usual smile at her.

"You too, Liberty," Dr. Kincaid said, nodding curtly as she walked past me.

I purposely turned around, my eyes following Dr. Kincaid's figure as she walked away—even with Dr. Leclair standing just down the hall from me.

"Liberty," she said again, her tone much firmer with me.

I liked it.

"Coming," I murmured, spinning back around in a daze that I dramatized with hopes of irritating her.

Still, she managed to look as calm as ever as I brushed past her, entering her familiar office.

I inhaled the soft jasmine scent, walking over to sit down on the black couch.

"So how's it going doc?" I decided to ask with a carefree smile, watching her walk over to her usual chair.

"Good," was all she said, sitting down as she naturally crossed her leg over the other.

Her blue eyes trailed my face for a moment, shifting down to the prominent smile on my lips.

"You're very happy today, Liberty," Dr. Leclair observed, glancing up from my lips to meet my dark eyes.

I shrugged, "It's a really good day, doc," I murmured, leaning back against the couch, "I also made plans with Zion and Sarai tonight—no drinking of course."

Dr. Leclair's lips twitched up, the smile subtly highlighting her face so perfectly.

"Look at you, Liberty," she said, holding a praise that made my smile grow, "I'm proud of you for taking this initiative."

I hummed happily, "I can't wait for this reward," I determined, holding her stare entirely.

Dr. Leclair hummed, the sound soft in her throat, "You'll have to earn it, Liberty," she emphasized, tilting her head slightly, "To do so, includes acting accordingly in this office."

I raised a brow, trying to hold back my smirk.

Because it feels like she's referring to Dr. Kincaid.

"Acting accordingly?" I asked her, tilting my head as if I were truly oblivious.

Dr. Leclair calmly clasped her hands together in her lap, "I recall telling you no, Liberty," she said, her stare not wavering from mine.

I had to physically fight the warmth invading my cheeks, trying not to find her tone with me highly attractive.

"Not a lot of people tell me that," I murmured, trying my best not to break eye contact with her.

"You'll get plenty of practice with me," Dr. Leclair smoothly countered, and all I could focus on was the double meaning her words could hold, "Now do we need a refresher on office etiquette, Liberty?"

I smiled slightly, "What does this refresher include doc?" I decided to ask, my tone taking a more flirty approach with her.

"A deduction from your reward," she calmly informed me, making my smile fade against my own wishes.

Then there was a tense silence between us, especially as I decided what to say next.

And if I should challenge her.

It felt like I shouldn't.

She looks too calm to be bluffing.

"Have I made myself clear, Liberty?" Dr. Leclair spoke again when I remained silent.

I nodded once, the motion stiff and reluctant, "Sure," I said.

Dr. Leclair raised a brow, visibly disapproving of my word choice.

She didn't say anything though.

If anything she remained quiet, knowing that I picked up on her disapproval.

The silence grew so heavy that it forced a sigh from me.

"Yes doc," I mumbled, assuming that's what she wanted to hear.

"Where's the formality, Liberty?" Dr. Leclair asked me, her voice as smooth as ever and her stare locked on me.

I clenched my jaw, resisting the urge to roll my eyes.

I lost the battle and rolled them anyway.

"Yes, Dr. Leclair," I forced the reluctant words out, holding her blue eyes even if it felt hard.

She nodded once in approval, "Glad I've made myself clear," was all she said, her eyes trailing my face for a moment, "How do you feel about trying hypnotherapy today, Liberty?"

I shrugged, "I don't know what it is, but I guess," I said, not really giving it much thought.

"Hypnotherapy is a process that allows us to access deeper parts of your mind—memories, emotions, even subconscious patterns," she explained briefly, her stare not wavering from mine, "It's a significant step, Liberty, and I need you to be certain that you want to proceed."

I furrowed my brows as I processed her words, slowly understanding what hypnotherapy consisted of.

"So you would be messing around in my head?" I asked, suddenly second-guessing if this was the route I wanted to take.

Sometimes I feel like telling her yes to experience the praise it comes with.

Just like with Kaia or anyone else.

Dr. Leclair isn't special there.

"Messing around isn't quite the term I'd use. I help you access what's already there—you decide what to do with it," Dr. Leclair briefly corrected me, "But it's not going anywhere. It's something you decide on when you're fully ready."

I briefly pursed my lips, feeling curious enough to say yes.

But I also felt a little... cautious.

Dr. Leclair feels safe, but what if she hears something that I don't want her to know about?

I mean, I don't think she would judge.

She had ample opportunity to judge me last weekend and she didn't.

She was there for me instead.

Maybe it would be productive for her to be there for me again.

It could also help me with subconscious stuff as she said.

"Okay," I suddenly said, nodding once as I let out a deep sigh.

Dr. Leclair hummed, her light eyes trailing my face, "It doesn't have to be a yes today. We can cross this bridge another day," she said, her words soft and reassuring.

"No, I want to do this, today," I emphasized, my words more confident.

Now that she's mentioned it, I'll only think about this until we try it.

Dr. Leclair nodded once, "Very well, Liberty," she said, reaching for the small remote on her side table, "Lay down."

Shivers trickled down my spine at her words, trying not to let them visibly affect me as I laid down on the couch.

I turned my head slightly, noticing the remote she used made thin blackout curtains slowly roll down over the windows.

Darkness crept in around us as she reached for the small triangle device on her side table as well.

A soft repetitive clicking echoed around me as I stared up into the sudden darkness.

This is... different?

"Close your eyes," I heard the familiar smoothness of her voice over the clicking.

The sound of the device continued, a soft hum filling the air and vibrating in my chest as I obeyed her command.

I hesitantly closed my eyes, allowing the darkness to settle around me.

The room felt darker now—more isolated.

More... intense.

"Focus on your breathing," she continued, her voice a constant thread I could cling to in the growing silence, "Breathe in... slowly..." she trailed off, her words a soft echo around me, "And out... gently."

I matched her rhythm, but my chest felt tight, the air around me thick.

My breaths slowed, but I couldn't ignore the tension in my muscles.

How my mind still fought against the pull of her voice.

"In and out, Liberty," she repeated, her tone coaxing me deeper, slower.

The words worked their way into my mind, and I could feel my limbs relaxing, the knots in my shoulders unwinding little by little.

Her voice was steady, almost like a lullaby.

"Let go of all the noise around you," she whispered so softly, it made goosebumps prick my skin, "Focus only on my voice. It's the only thing that matters now."

My body felt heavy, yet strangely weightless at the same time.

Each breath sank deeper, each exhale taking me farther from the world outside.

But still, there was a hesitation—a small part of me, buried just beneath the surface, that didn't want to let go completely.

Dr. Leclair didn't rush.

She let the silence stretch, letting me drift at my own pace.

It was unsettling how natural it felt to let her guide me.

"Trust me," she murmured softly, "You're safe here. You are in control, but you don't have to be right now."

Safe.

The word landed softly in my chest, like a promise, and it eased a little of the tension.

But I couldn't shake the sense that something inside me was about to shift, something I wouldn't be able to undo.

"Liberty," she said, soft yet firm, "I want you to think about a time when you felt free. Completely unburdened. When everything felt effortless."

I hesitated for a moment, the familiar weight of her question settling over me.

The thing was, I knew exactly what she was talking about.

There were moments when I could just breathe.

When everything disappeared, and I felt... released.

But I didn't know if I was ready to say it out loud.

"Do you remember that feeling? Almost as if you could let go of everything?" she asked me as I followed every word that fell from her lips.

I could feel the tension in my body as she spoke, the pressure inside of me pushing at the edges.

The truth was, I had one thing in mind every time that moment of freedom came—

Alcohol.

The burning liquid, that escape.

It wasn't just about drinking, it was about feeling untethered, free from expectations and the weight of everything.

"And when you reach for something. Maybe to help you relax and release that tension..." Dr. Leclair's voice broke through the fog again, "What do you usually reach for, Liberty?"

I took a slow breath, trying to keep my composure.

There it was.

She was getting there, but I couldn't help the wave of hesitation that came over me.

I wasn't sure I wanted to admit it.

But I did anyway, a soft exhale escaping my lips, "A drink."

My voice was barely inaudible, weighed down by a raspiness.

"A drink," Dr. Leclair repeated my words softly, "And when you have that drink, what does it do for you? How does it make you feel?"

I drew in a deep breath, the memory of that relief coming back.

"Free," I said, barely above a whisper, "Like everything stops. I can forget."

"Forget," she echoed, as though she was absorbing the weight of my words, "And in that moment, everything feels lighter. You feel like you can breathe again."

I hummed, my mind drifting back to those moments of escape.

The glass wasn't just about the alcohol—it was about the peace, the release.

It was the only way I knew to stop everything from getting worse.

"But," Dr. Leclair's voice softened, "What if you could feel that release without needing the drink? Without relying on it to bring you that peace?"

I didn't have an answer.

Not yet.

But her words hung in the air, and for the first time, I wondered if it was even possible.

"You feel free with a drink in your hand," she said slowly, allowing the words to settle, "But what is it that you're freeing yourself from? The weight of expectations? The pressure to be someone you're not?"

I didn't say anything, but her words hit me harder than I expected.

It was true, drinking was like my way of taking off the mask I'd been wearing all day.

Like shaking off the world that was always watching.

My mother for example.

Dr. Leclair continued to let the silence stretch, letting me process everything.

"And when the drink gives you that relief... what does it feel like?" she asked me, her voice soft around me, "The freedom, the release... is it the drink that's making you feel that way, or is it the space you've created inside of you when you let go?"

Her question sent me for a loop, sinking deeper inside of me.

Was it the drink?

Or was it the fact that I could just... breathe?

The feeling of choosing to let everything slide off my shoulders?

Maybe doing whatever I want and—

"It's the letting go," I said softly, unsure if I believed it yet, but something about it clicked.

"Exactly, Liberty," she reassured my words, "And what if you could feel that same release without needing the drink to get there? What if you could let go—truly let go—without the glass, and still have that freedom?"

I remained silent, feeling unsure.

The idea of feeling free without it felt strange, almost impossible.

But the thought lingered, a heaviness in my mind.

"How would that feel, Liberty?" Dr. Leclair asked, pushing the idea gently, "If you could feel free, not because of the drink, but because you're allowing yourself to release that pressure on your own terms? Without relying on something external?"

I swallowed, the weight of her question sitting with me.

The thought didn't feel as far-fetched.

It didn't feel like a what-if.

I could feel free right now if I wanted to.

I didn't need to experience it using something else.

It's as easy as living how I want to right now.

Being free right now.

It was a thought that stayed with me through the rest of our session, listening to her voice through the darkness as my body grew heavier—feeling entirely weightless.

Before I knew it, she was guiding me out of the state she put me in—asking me to lift my fingers or move my arms.

Until soon, I was fully present with her, lying up on the couch with a deep sigh.

The curtains lifted and the dim lights were on again, making me squint my eyes to adjust to the lighting.

It was getting dark outside, so luckily it was just the dim lights I had to grow accustomed to.

I felt lighter as I sat in front of her, my eyes trailing her face as I processed everything that happened.

Dr. Leclair's lips were lifted in a small smile, looking almost proud of me as I fully adjusted back to reality.

"How do you feel, Liberty?" she asked, watching carefully as I rubbed under my heavy eyes.

"Good, really good," I murmured, a small smile growing on my lips.

I feel lighter.

It's more than a weight off my chest—more like a pressure.

"Good, Liberty," Dr. Leclair said, uncrossing her leg from over her other and standing from her chair, "You did really good today."

I hummed at her words, standing from the couch and following her to the door that she opened for me.

"We'll do Monday again," Dr. Leclair said, walking with me out of her office, "Does five still work for you?"

I nodded immediately, "Yes," I told her, following her down the hallway, "And then it'll be a week of no alcohol," I added with a growing smile.

"It will," Dr. Leclair murmured as we walked out into the main lobby, "I know you can do it, Liberty."

Her words made my face burn, trying to fight my smile that threatened to grow wider.

I couldn't wait until Monday.

More importantly, to finally reach this goal and reward.

"Have a good weekend," I said as she pressed the elevator button for me.

It was an action that I unconsciously thought twice about.

Or how she walked me all the way to the elevator.

I hope Sienna's looking.

I refuse to look in her direction and give her any sort of attention.

"You as well, Liberty," Dr. Leclair said as one of the elevators dinged open, allowing me to walk on.

This might've been the calmest session we've had so far.

Which was something I thought about on my way home, getting ready for tonight's campus event.

I pulled on a black halter dress, the flowy material brushing my mid-thighs as I wore matching short heels.

I kept my curly hair in a bun, putting on a light amount of makeup and applying my usual lip combo.

Then it was time to leave my apartment, heading down to my car.

A weird excitement bubbled inside me the entire drive to campus.

I don't think I've ever been so excited to attend a school function.

But this was much better than going out and doing the same thing as usual.

I'm excited to spend my night with Zion and Sarai too.

They've really been present for me during a hard time, and I'm beyond thankful.

"And then the lights were on and boom, it was like I dreamt it all," I said, reiterating my hypnotherapy session to Zion and Sarai as they sipped on the strawberry mock-tails.

They're actually better than a cocktail itself, especially since there isn't that burning alcohol taste.

The soft jazz music is really nice too.

"The floating part sounds crazy," Zion said, setting his glass down on the tall table we stood around.

"I know right? It was fucking insane," I said, earning a few nods from Sarai.

"I would've freaked out," she admitted.

"No, I know, but Dr. Leclair—her voice. It's something about her voice," I tried my best to explain to them as they nodded a few times, "It's really calming trust me."

"I think all therapists have a calm voice," Sarai said, sipping on her mock-tail.

I quickly shook my head, "No, hers is different... I don't know," I murmured, knowing Dr. Kincaid didn't sound anywhere near the same as Dr. Leclair

And they're both therapists.

"We gotta hear it someday then," Zion joked with a smile.

I nodded a few times as I glanced past him, noticing one of the tall heavy doors open and a few students entering the event.

I looked back over to Zion, zoning back in on what he was saying as Sarai listened intently.

Until I did a double-take, looking right back at that door when she walked past it.

I genuinely wondered if I was hallucinating.

If she was genuinely right here in the same room as me.

Dr. Leclair.

She was dressed more casually than earlier, wearing a black long-sleeve shirt, pin-stripe dress pants, and a Hermès belt that emphasized her small waist.

Her hair was pulled back just like earlier, her bangs framing her face covered in light makeup.

I glanced down to her shiny loafers, watching as she calmly took a couple of steps forward.

That's when I snapped back to my train of thought—with so many questions running through my head.

Why is she here?

Is she a professor?

Or maybe meeting a professor?

My thoughts were rampant, but I knew one thing.

Tonight just got much more interesting.