Page 13 of Pretty Poison

Karen was right. Rocky didn’t fully trust her yet, but he needed to start somewhere if he ever wanted to find some semblance of peace. He had told the therapist he was tired of running during their initial consultation. Karen had asked follow-up questions to clarify if he’d meant literally or figuratively. Rocky had answered “both.” He had fled from Vegas a few months after the incident, and he’d been running in one form or another since. Today, he literally ran from Snickerdoodle, but most of his fleeing occurred in his sleep. The terrors differed from night to night, but they were all variations of him trying to get away from the awful event and the blood that still coated his soul.

He’d never be able to outrun the tragedy, wash it away, and he’d sure as hell never forget it. Rocky just needed to learn how to coexist better with the trauma. Karen assured him she could help, and he had to trust that much at least.

“I’m still not sleeping very well,” he said after a brief pause.

“Is it because of insomnia or nightmares?”

“Both,” Rocky admitted. “Mostly I just feel like a giant elephant is sitting on my chest.”

“Are the breathing exercises helping?”

He nodded, then reminded himself to use his words. “Yeah. The relief just doesn’t last. The pressure comes back when I least expect it sometimes.”

“That’s very normal. The breathing helps you deal with the symptoms, but it’s not a cure for anxiety.”

Rocky crossed his arms over his chest. “I’m just not sure how talking about my problems will make anything better.”

“Bottling up your emotions isn’t working for you very well.”

“Touché.”

“So, why not try something different,” Karen asked.

“You mean like acupuncture?” Rocky knew it wasn’t what she meant, but he preferred the prospect of someone sticking dozens of needles into his skin over talking through his problems.

“I know a practitioner if it’s something you’re interested in trying. I’ve never done it myself, but I have clients who swear by the practice. Would you like a referral?”

Rocky shook his head. “Not yet. It feels so extreme.”

“What have you tried before?”

“Herbal teas.” Prior to therapy, Rocky had done his own research and tried melatonin supplements, but they’d left him feeling hungover the next morning. “Oh, and essential oils,” he added, turning his head to smile at her. “I took a lot of shit for the last one. I showed up at a recording session smelling like a field of lavender two nights ago. I’ll never live it down with my podcast partners.”

“You don’t sound upset,” Karen remarked.

Rocky chuckled. “I’m not. My smart mouth is always getting me in trouble with my friends.”

“I can’t imagine,” Karen said drolly.

“I may not trust you yet, but I do like you, Karen.”

She smiled. “High praise, indeed. Thank you.”

“Isn’t this the point where you admit that you like me too?” Rocky asked.

She shrugged. “It’s not relevant to my ability to help you.”

“Fair enough.”

Karen tilted her head to the side. “Your entire demeanor changes when you mention your friends. You seem calmer and more at peace.”

“They just get me,” Rocky said. “Jonah knows what it’s like to survive a traumatic event, Felix has a chip on his shoulder the size of Texas, and I’m like a hybrid of the two. We just mesh. We don’t question it. There’s no need for pretenses. When I’m with them, I feel at peace.” Rocky took a deep breath. “If I could just fix this sleeping thing, I’d be on my way to recovering.”

Karen smiled. “Have you tried CBD oil?”

“Not yet, but it’s something to consider.”

“Let’s circle back to the reasons why you’re not sleeping well,” Karen said. “Is it triggered by recent events?”