Finally

Finally! I think as I hear my name, I’ve been waiting almost an hour to see the counsellor I’ve been advised to see. As I look up to see who it is that’s calling me I notice a short woman with cropped hair and smooth dark skin. She’s got small features and resembles a cute pixie, but she must be in her late thirties. “Zara Harris?” She asks me as I walk towards her. “Yes,” I reply quietly. I’m embarrassed to be here to be honest. I know I need this, but a huge part of me still feels the shame. “I’m Michelle,” she informs me with a smile. “Come through to my office.” I follow her down a long, white corridor with many brown doored offices on either side. Her office is right at the bottom and the name Michelle Marshall is printed on a plaque on the wall next to her own brown door in gold writing. Michelle indicates to a blue cushioned chair and I take a seat while she sits in the identical one opposite me. “Miss Harris, I’ve read some of the file given to me after your assessment in hospital. Can you start from the beginning? I need to hear the full story in your own words before we can decide the best course of treatment for you.” I gulp. It’s a long story and I’m sure we only have an hour together. Where should I start? Maybe the night it all went wrong, the night when my life changed forever in a matter of seconds. One wrong decision lead to the disaster that has been the last two years of my life. She sees my hesitation and prompts me, “why don’t you start by telling me what happened the night of the attack?” “Ok... well it was the night of our end of year ball at University. We’d had a party at our dorm in the communal area. My room mate had invited some boys from her classes to come along and they suggested a drinking game. We did lots of shots and I felt quite tipsy by the time we left for the party.” Flashback: The music is so loud from the band on stage, one of their most famous songs starts and everyone runs forwards. I am caught up in the crowd and I fall, desperately trying to get up before I’m trampled. I look around for my friends, but everyone I came here with is gone, lost in the sea of bodies fighting to get closer to the stage. I spend the next hour walking around trying to find a familiar face, but there are too many people and it’s just too busy. I take out my phone and try to call everyone on my contacts list that I came with, but they don’t answer and it’s too loud to hear a ringtone here. I head to the bathroom to try to clear my head and calm myself. I look in the mirror and my long blonde hair is still neatly curled on top of my head, my pearl hairband perfectly complimenting the style. My make up isn’t quite what it was when I left home, my bright red lipstick having made its way outside the edges of my lips. I wipe it off and try to reapply it neatly, but the alcohol works against me and each attempt leaves me resembling a clown so sighing I remove it all and give up. As I walk back outside the alcohol really hits me and I just want to find a familiar face so I’m not alone in this condition. I suddenly remember there were still several people at our place when we left so maybe I can head back there and join them. I walk out of the entrance gates and down the road that connects our dorm block to the university. It’s not very far, but I feel intensely aware that I’m walking down a dark street, intoxicated and alone. My senses are heightened and I can hear my heart beating and my more rapid breathing. A rustling sound behind me makes my heart stop and my breath catch in my throat, but when I turn to investigate, the road is empty. I decide to speed up and I can hear my heels clicking faster on the pavement. I’m almost at the entrance to my block, having turned onto the dark, narrow pathway that leads to my home. I definitely hear a noise behind me this time and then nothing. It’s like someone turned off the lights, everything goes black and instantly becomes nothingness. End of flashback. “How did you get home?” Michelle asks curiously. “When I woke up I was on the floor and not sure how I got there. I panicked as soon as I noticed my handbag was missing, I assumed I must have been mugged. I ran to the block, but I didn't have keys anymore so I banged on the door until a boy who looked familiar came and let me in.” She nods urging me to continue. Flashback continues: I can barely speak and what I do manage to get out doesn’t make much sense. The boy who I’ve seen around many times, but never really spoken to asks me if I want a drink and I accept because my mouth is drier than a desert right now. He hands me a glass of water with a sympathetic smile and I suddenly remember he studies Sports Science or something and I’m sure he’s on the football team. I gulp the cold liquid down, but it burns my throat and I gag the second I realise it isn’t water at all, it’s vodka! My stomach lurches and I race out the front door and vomit everywhere violently. I hear the boy talking, but my ears are ringing and my focus is on trying not to vomit again. “You’re hurt!” He repeats louder this time. “What?” I ask him in shock. “Your head is bleeding!” He tells me, his face contorted with concern. I put my hand to my head and he’s right, there’s blood there and I notice the back of my beautiful dress is stained with a dark red splatter.