Kissing Iris(MATURE)

Chapter One

26 Because of this, God gave them over to shameful lusts. Even their women exchanged natural

 s****l relations for unnatural ones. In the same way the men also abandoned natural relations

with women and were inflamed with lust for one another. Men committed shameful acts with

other men, and received in themselves the due penalty for their error.  -Romans 1:26-28

Dear Diary, 

I had that nightmare again. It was heart crushing, and completely felt as if someone had dumped a fresh bucket of water made of guilt on my body. I've been taking the medications Dr. Daniels has prescribed me... it's been over a year now and the nightmares still come. That horrible day is still burnt into my memories, and I get shivers just thinking about it. They're not working and I know how bad mother and father wanted them to work. I haven't told them I still get the dreams, but mainly because I want things back to normal. I want to FEEL normal again. Father has been a lot less angry since me starting therapy. He doesn't yell at me or break the China whenever I mention HER. It's because I don't mention her anymore. It made them happier that way...it made my father think I had forgotten. But I didn't. Her angelic face hunts me every night, her soft voice invades my every thought. I wake up sobbing silently in my sweat soaked bed, praying that the agony will fade away with the hunting images. But they never do. I've tried everything. But what haunts me more...is the feelings I still have for her. The feelings I refuse to face in fear of my own personal infidelity. I hope this move is a good idea. I hope this new school will help me and my family have closure. Wish me luck! 

                                                      Your, Apryl 

I shut the little pink book and tucked it safely in my jacket pocket. My parents didn't know I kept a diary, and whenever they would question me about the book I just said it was a log my therapists had me doing to track my meals to make sure I was eating. They didn't question it further...they never did. They practically put my life in the hands of a licensed psych doctor as if she could fix me. As if she could stop the pain in my chest. As if she could mend my broken heart. But sadly she wasn't a heart surgeon and even if she was it wouldn't do it her any good. My injuries were purely mental but not the kind of mental you could fix with a couple of sessions spent talking about my childhood. I knew it and soon she would too.

"Apryl stop standing there and help us with the boxes," My mothers voice said. "I swear all you do now-a-days is space out." And with those parting words I watched her pick up a big cardboard box labeled 'Kitchen' and head into our new home. Home...Not exactly what I would call it. Staring up at the white Victorian house with its perfectly green yard, big clear windows, and garden; I couldn't help but feel a small resentment towards it. It was perfect.

A perfect house for a less than perfect family. 

"Apryl, boxes now." My mother directed as she walked past me to get another box. With a sigh I complied, picking up the nearest box to me. It had 'Living room 1' written in big sharpie on it. With little effort I put the box in my arms and made my way towards the house. Walking into the front foyer, I made sure to keep an eye out for Constance. She was my pet cat who unfortunately had a habit of jumping out when least expected.  We got her a month ago, my parents thought the presence of an animal would help me forget that my best friend was missing and hopefully coax me out of my bedroom, where I locked myself for months straight not eating. Their effort was futile, considering the fact that the cat hated me. An old hag she was. Even so I couldn't imagine how I would deal if she wasn't around.  I walked into the living room and placed the box onto our plastic wrapped couch and continued back outside to get the rest of the boxes. 

"I think this move is going to be good for us," My mother said while unpacking the coffee cups and placing them on the marble counter between us. "A breath of fresh air don't you think?" She said looking up at me from my seat on top of the counter. I fiddled with a loose thread on my hoodie sleeve. "Yeah I guess." I mumbled.  

"Apryl can you at least give this a chance?," she said lifting my chin with her pale fingers. "You never know, you might like it." 

"I liked our old home...our old town." I said.

I felt my mothers grip on my chin tighten as she tugged roughly, forcing my eyes to meet hers. "She's not coming back. Ever." She whispered. Staring into my blue eyes that resembled so much of her own. 

"But how do we know? We don't know anything! Only of what father has told us and that isn't much!" I practically yelled. My eyes burning with unshed tears. I felt a sharp sting on my left cheek. 

She had slapped me. My face grew hot. 

"Your father has done nothing but sacrifice everything he loves for you. He gave up his life for you! That town was built from dust, and your ancestors made it into a pure community in the name of the lord. He gave people hope and direction through the words of god and he gave it all up for you!" she yelled while gripping my wrists hard. I could feel her fingernails cutting into my skin, but I didn't flinch I kept looking her in the eyes...I refused to back down.

"He moved across the state to make all of us happier even though he's giving up his families life work, and he will continue to protect us, so don't you say another ill word about your father young lady!" She let my wrists go and took a steadying deep breath. "Go up to your room and pray for forgiveness. I'll get you down when it's time for your therapy session." She said much calmer now. 

I jumped off the counter and without a word I walked out, tears springing to my eyes as I made my way up the stairs. I refused to forget about her, even if everyone else was. She couldn't have vanished. Stomping up the stairs I made sure to slam my door as hard as possible, just wanting my mother to feel my frustration, to hear it too. I stalked to my bed and  flopped on it with my face looking up at the ceiling. My walls were bare. I didn't want to decorate this room, because if I did I felt that would mean I was taking a step in moving on, moving past this and in reality...I was far from it. If I gave into this move I'd feel as if I'd betrayed her in my own silently manner. With a sigh, I reached into my designer jean pockets and pulled out the crumpled piece of paper I had stuck in there when my parents weren't looking. I unraveled the crumbled mess slowly and heedfully, examining it with careful attentiveness. I ran my fingers down the length of the page stroking the smeared ink with tenderness. Rachel's beautiful green eyes stared back at me from the page. Her secret smile present. I remember when this photo was taken. It was picture day at school and I was so nervous that my picture would look bland. Yes a very small worry but back then I was just a sophomore and first impressions meant something in our small town. It meant if you looked good enough you might not be dancing alone at our small town prom. Just small town worries. 

"It's just a picture Apryl, it's not going to make a difference if it's bad or not," Rachel reassured me as we stood in line waiting for our turn.

"Of course you can say that, your pretty! no bad picture will ever change the way the guys swoon over you." I whispered while performing an Oscar worthy fake faint. She rolled her eyes and hit me.  "Guys do not swoon over me, your being silly," 

"And your being daft," I replied "I know you see the way Johnny Amigo stares at you, it's like he's undressing you with his eyes." I said while wiggling my perfectly arched brown eyebrows at her. I watched her face turn red with embarrassment. She opened her mouth to say something—no doubt unlady like—back when her name was called to take her picture. She narrowed her eyes and made her way to the make shift photo shoot, keeping eye contact with me the whole time. It wasn't much, just a black curtain taped over a white wall with a single white stool and a cheaply white painted podium. 

"Don't mess up," I said with a smirk. 

"I never mess up." She said back.

"We'll see." I replied as she took her seat.

"Can you put your arm up here a little?" The blonde photographer asked and Rachel did as she was told putting her arm over the white painted board. "Okay ready...one...two...THREE!" And before the flash could go off I made the silliest face I could muster, and In it's wake brought down that secret smile I was looking at on this missing persons flyer. It made my heart ache. 

We put the flyers everywhere, it was my fathers idea of course and he made me and mother help him tape them all over town. Our efforts were to no avail, no one had any information on my friend and my father wasn't willing to tell me anything. I do know what he told the cops though. He said that Rachel had tried to kiss me and I refused her attempt, which angered her. He walked in and saw the scene and put a stop to it immediately. Then he offered to take Rachel home to talk to her parents about the situation while I stayed back to gather myself mentally. In the car ride she got more upset with my father and begged him not to tell her parents about her moment of shameful weakness with me. Him being the 'honest' man he is told her they deserved to know. In a fit of rage she yelled for my dad to stop the car. She got out and walked away. He would have went after her But was afraid to leave his car unattended, so he got back in and looked for her. When he couldn't find her he assumed that she had just made it back home safely since they were just a block away. He went home. 

But she never made it back safely.

In fact after that night no one had seen her since. There was no trace of her. One day she was here and they next she wasn't. No note and no explanation. Nothing to indicate her intention on leaving town and running away. The cops in our town were just as much a slave to my father as me and my mother were. As the whole town was. They ate up his story with no problem, never once asking more questions or dwelling deeper into the matter. They left it as it was because my father—the pastor and town saver—said so. Months past and eventually everyone began to forget about her. Rumors spread. I remember someone from school telling people she had heard from her mother, Rachel had run off with her foreign lesbian lover she met online. I couldn't bear to hear the watered down lies, so I started refusing to got to school and my grades deteriorated. My dad eventually told the towns people that Rachel had attempted to seduce me and had run off because She was embarrassed and tired of hiding her true lesbian nature. 

I knew it was complete lies but I couldn't speak up. Yes I was terrified of my father but also because I couldn't remember a thing. That night was still incoherent in my mind, a bunch of jumbled pictures. All I have for evidence of my existence on that horrible day is the scar on my forehead. 

"A year without you feels like an eternity," I whispered to the flyer. I got up abruptly and made my way to the wall across from my bed where I grabbed a spare thumb tack on my desk.  With careful precaution I put the picture on my wall, this way I could wake up to her face and continue to keep her memory alive. 

"Apryl come down stairs,  your father is here to take you to your session!" My mothers voice rang out. With a sigh, I grabbed my purse and made my way down the stairs where my mother was waiting for me  at the bottom with an antagonized expression. Her blond hair was in a messy bun where a few strands hung loose on her pale face. She looked older. Barely hitting the peak of thirty-seven and she was already looking forty-five. I knew it was my fault her skin was loosing its tan pigment and in its wake bringing us this pale, skinny, wrinkled mess of a women. Her  ankle length floral evening gown was covered in flour from the bread she was no doubt kneading, an attempt to calm down from our earlier festivities. Her arms were folded under her small breasts where I could see her veins making themselves present.  I watched as her frown deepened when she made eye contact with me, her wrinkles deepened at the outer corner of her eye and her frown lines appeared more noticeable. The bags under her eyes had deepened as well, Also because of me. But I couldn't bring myself to feel too bad about it considering the fact that she was so unsympathetic, and unwilling to try and understand me in this dark time. It was driving a wedge between our once inseparable relationship. 

"Not a word about our conversation earlier to your father, you understand?"  She said to me as she raised her blond eyebrow. 

"Yes ma'm." I replied straight faced and walked past her out the front door. 

My father was waiting just by the mailbox in his 2009 E-350 white Mercedes Benz, tall as ever. His blonde hair was a tousled mess on his head today, looking extremely untidy but at the same time professional. He was staring out the windshield with his shades covering his ocean blue eyes with one hand on the steering wheel and the other hanging out of the open window. His baby blue button up dress shirt rolled at the sleeves, looking very much like someone's suburban dad. With a sigh I made my way done the driveway.  As I approached he started the car. 

"Your hunching your shoulders kitty," my father said without even looking in my direction. "We talked about this. A Jacobs stands tall with their chin up." 

"I see you got a new car," I said completely ignoring his statement. I wasn't in any mood to deal with his nick picking today.

"Yeah I figured it was time for a change. A way to fit into this new life," He said with a small smirk. 

"Right." I said. 

"The little family from Show Low Arizona doing big city things,"

Is what I wanted to say but I knew I wouldn't. I've already been slapped once today best not make it a second. 

"You excited to meet your new therapist?" He asked me as he began taking off down the road. 

"Yeah, I get to start all over again with a new stranger. I'm uber excited." I said sarcastically while leaning my head against the window. 

"I think the sessions are working," he said.

"Let's not forget the medications too," I said a bit sourly. He ignored me and we drove the rest of the way in silence. I liked it better that way anyway. All he did now-a-days was critique my every move and tell me how wrong I was living. He was so set on keeping up this perfect family hoax. 

When we arrived I got out the car and began walking towards the modern glass building, I suddenly realized my father was not following in suit. I stopped and turned around. He was still sitting in the car with the engine going, still not looking my way. He hardly ever looked at me anymore. Ever since the 'Incident' he barley even acknowledges my existence. 

"Your not coming?" I asked. He c****d his head to the side to give me a quick look.

"No kitty, I have some things to do. I'll be back when your sessions over." He replied absently as if he was in a whole other head space. 

"Ok-ay," I said stretching out the word. 

"Now don't you go giving the lady any trouble you hear?" He said his country accent coming out a bit.

"Yes sir." I said and with that he peeled out the parking lot at an alarming speed.

Walking into the building I was hit with a gust of cold air. Even with my plain pink hoodie on, I still couldn't stop the shiver that ran down my entire body leaving goose flesh in its chilling wake. It was a pretty big office. Obviously way fancier than my last therapists office. Black marble flooring, and a huge chandelier right in the center. It smelled of lavender, and honey. The brown and gold wallpaper gave it a calming touch. Sunlight poured in welcomingly, thanks to the whole building being nothing but glass. I could see the mountains on the horizon. It was breath taking. There was a fern in every corner and people in suits and blazers walking all over the place.  I was in awe. 

"Hi, can I help you?" A tiny voice said from a big circular white counter with an I Mac seated in the middle. I walked up slowly. 

"Yeah I'm here for my therapy session?" I replied as I looked up at the attractively dressed brunette woman in her black knee length dress and Stilettos. Her hair was pinned into a bun perfectly with not a single strand coming loose. Her bright red lipstick was doing great things for her face, it was obvious she was meticulous about her appearance. "I was a transfer from Show Low," 

"What's your name sweetie?" She asked with a smile, showing her perfect white teeth. 

"Apryl Jacobs," I replied. I watched her red painted nails work the keyboard in front of her. While I waited I fiddled with the pens on the counter that were placed in a black cup, as I looked at the gold plated name tag next to her arm labeled 'Check in'  her name tag was also gold plated, it read in plain bold letters 'Erica'  

"Okay Apryl, your doctors name is Gregory. He's already been notified of your arrival so you can have a seat in the waiting area," she said giving me one last blinding smile before returning back to her typing. I made my way to to the waiting area, which was grand in itself. It had two sectional sofas on ether side of each other, with a big sixty-five inch Samsung curved tv centered between them on a wall.  More ferns in every corner, and an aquarium behind the right sofa. There was a black marble coffee table in the middle with multiple magazines on it that read: 'Self care and how to be a healthier you!' And in the left corner was a very top notch coffee maker. I took a seat and grabbed one of the magazines not really reading, just skimming through it. 

"Apryl!?" A deep mans voice rang out into the inaudible room. 

"That's me, I'm Apryl" I said getting up and making my way towards figure at the door. 

"Hey miss Jacobs, I'm just here to escort you to Dr. Gregory's office," He said while shaking my hand and leading me deeper into this glass fortress. We began the walk down the long corridor, more sunshine coming through the floor length glass walls as we walked.  

"How are you liking your stay so far in Vigil?" The man asked. I kept my gaze fixated on the distance in front of us, not once looking at the figure next to me. 

"It's quite...polluted," I said plainly. He chuckled but did not say anything more, it was more than apparent that I didn't want to talk. So we walked the rest of the way in careful silence. 

"This is it," He said as we stood in front of a western red cedar door with a gold plate saying: Dr. Gregory.

My escort knocked two times. I was expecting a tall skinny women in a white lab coat with big spectacles to answer the door, but instead it was a man. An extremely handsome man. He had to be at least in his early twenties. His hair was a dark brown color, curled flawlessly with little strands falling on his forehead. His jawline was perfectly square and he even had a chin dimple. His stubble was barley noticeable so you could tell he probably shaved recently. His eyebrows were arched perfectly and his lips were full and plumb. With his tan skin he was a Superman look alike. His dark brown eyes poured into mine. I was instantly breathless. My knees began to quiver a bit. His beauty was blinding. Who was this man?

"Dr. Gregory, this is your new patient Apryl Jacobs. She just moved here From Show Low Arizona," my escort said as he smiled down at me. My mouth fell open a bit. 

This phenomenal man was my therapist?

I studied him a bit more. He didn't look like a therapist in his plain white tee and blue jeans. He even was wearing a pair of converse similar to my own. He leaned against the doorway almost lazily. 

"Hi Apryl, nice to meet you," He said while thrusting his big elegant hand out to shake my hand.  I couldn't help but notice as I placed my hand in his that he didn't have any callouses, just smooth skin. 

"Why don't we come in and start the session hm?" He said. All I could do was nod still staring at his sculptured face as if he were a priceless Picasso painting. He showed me into his monumental office. His office indeed had glass walls to mimic he rest of the building, his desk was big and rectangular, possibly made of cherry wood. It was quite plain. A singular Mac sat in the center of the desk with a few papers scattered across it and one coffee cup of a most likely now cold beverage, it sat near the far back wall. He had no pictures hanging up, in fact the only thing that hung on the wall was his degree for behavioral health, that rest right above his computer chair. He had a large bookcase in the far left corner of the room, filled with a myriad of different titles. The floor was an ugly grey carpet.

He directed me into the middle of the room where a large circular fur rug rest underneath two black leather chairs and a small leather couch. He took a seat in the chair so I took a seat across from him on the couch. 

"You don't look much like a therapist," I said. He just stared at me with his brown piercing eyes for a beat. It was making my skin tingle. He placed his leg on top of his other thigh in a relaxed manner. 

"I feel like dressing so professional can sometimes be  a bit intimidating to the patient," he said while stroking his chin "It makes them feel a little uneasy, like their talking to a doctor whose going to  wisk them away in a straight jacket if they say the wrong thing. This way if I dress like myself, it's almost as if two friends are having a conversation...they eventually become more forthcoming with their issues." He said. 

"But you are a Doctor," I stated plainly.

"I prefer the term psychologist," he replied back with  another intense stare. 

"Same thing." I said with a shrug.

"No not the same thing. Apryl I am an analyst, I observe, I listen, and I try to help with anything mental. Medicine and band-aids aren't really my thing." He replied. Hearing my name on his lips was almost electrifying.

"Me and my parents were expecting a woman," I said. How was I going to be able to focus when his single stare made my insides feel like jelly?

"You'll be quite astonished to know that Virgil has quite a low percentage of female counselors," he said with a sigh "But I assure you, though very young I am more than capable of doing my job. Anything that is said in this office will stay, as long as it's not a danger to yourself or others." I watched with careful attentiveness as he moved his muscular arm over the back of the chair. 

"Now, I'm going to ask you a few questions and you answer me honestly Kay?" He said as he got up and grabbed a few papers from his desk then sat back down his full attention on me.

"Any thoughts of harming yourself?" 

"No." 

"Any thoughts of harming others?" 

"No."

"Do you hear any voices telling you to do things you shouldn't?" 

Besides my guilty conscience?

"No."

"Have you self harmed in the past?" 

My hands immediately went to my wrist where underneath my hoodie sleeve little old thin scars lied, put there by my fathers shaving razor. 

"Yes." 

He raised his eyebrow at that one.

"Have you self harmed recently?" 

"No." I had stopped a month before our move. My father had found his razor in my drawer and I got a good beating for it. 

"Suicidal thoughts?" 

"Never." 

"Eating disorders in the past?" 

"Yes." 

"Present?" 

"I'm working on it." I said plainly. 

And with that he put the papers on the end table next to his chair. 

"Okay let's start with that," he said while looking at me once again. "Why'd you began this eating problem?" 

"I was starving myself out of guilt," I said looking down at my feet. "Not because I wanted to loose weight." It's what my last therapist assumed. 

"Why did you feel guilty?" He asked me gently. 

"Because my best friend is missing and I couldn't help but feel like it was my fault," I said gripping a handful of my hoodie tightly. 

"Was it your fault?" He said looking at me more intently. 

"I don't know, I can't remember," I said through gritted teeth. "All I have are little images, nightmares, and my scar."  

"What scar?" Dr. Gregory asked.

I lifted my head up and moved my blonde hair off my forehead. Revealing a deep vertical pink scar. His breath hissed. 

"How'd that happen?"  He asked.

"Like I said I don't remember. But I have a feeling though," I said. 

"And what might that be?" He asked. I took a deep breath, met his eyes head on and said: 

"It was my dad."