“Last session we established a list of your symptoms, Lisa. You mentioned having had some rather violent intrusive thoughts when dissociated; I was wondering if today, you might be willing to elaborate on those a bit.”

The middle-aged therapist crossed his legs and shifted in his chair, his body language becoming more inviting of answers. His pen scratched something onto pale yellow paper, and Lisa averted her gaze to the floor. She exhaled in a sigh and softly began. “I had one just before I came. It… it was awful. I had stopped at the coffee shop across the street. Just a vanilla chai to calm my nerves.” She closed her eyes and brought herself back in time.

———————————————-

Amid the usual coffee shop noise, Lisa could hear the group of teenage girls behind her giggling to themselves. They’re not laughing at you, she reassured her anxieties. They don’t even know you. Still, she discreetly checked her shoes for trailing toilet paper, her underarms to see if they bore any odor. Nothing. See, she internally insisted. Nothing worth laughing at. She stepped forward and began to place her order before the friendly barista. Lisa’s meek voice was barely audible, and the cashier asked her to speak up. She did, apologetically repeating her request for a small vanilla chai.

As she fumbled through her purse for her wallet, one of the girls behind her piped up. “Come on, lady. Some of us have shit to do.”

Lisa placed her payment on the counter and turned. “I beg your pardon?”

The teen pocketed her iPhone and scoffed, regurgitating her catty demand with an added eye roll. Her friends smirked.

“I’m sorry. I d-didn’t real-r-realize I was causing an inc-c-convenience.”

Then began the mockery. The girls snickered as their friend mimicked Lisa’s anxious stutter. “Y-you sh-sh-sh-SHOULD be sorry. How h-hard is it to find a f-f-fucking credit c-card?”

Lisa’s blood boiled with embarrassment and anger. She slunk to her car as tried to control her anxious breathing. Her hand felt detached from her own body as she turned the key in the ignition.

As the girls left, lattes in hand, Lisa saw herself clutch the wheel of her SUV. She watched her hand move the shifter and her black pump press the accelerator to the floor. She saw the vivid crimson of blood and viscera splatter across her windshield and drip onto the hood of her vehicle. She saw herself nonchalantly turn on the windshield wipers and spray down the glass before finally coming back to herself. Startled by her rapidly deteriorating mental state, Lisa blinked several times and glanced around before racing into the parking lot of her therapist’s office. She reassured herself that everything would be fine and hurried inside.

—————————————————-

The morning light wove through the blinds in narrow yellow slits, flashing red as the sirens blared around the corner. Lisa sipped her drink with trembling hands. “I don’t know what to do anymore…. Sometimes they just seem so real.”