Ch 4 - Sweaty Miss Anna

I thought Miss Anna might say something unusual about me to my mother, but I actually didn't care.

Much to my surprise, she didn't.

This actually kept her in my good books. Not that I was going to harm her or anything, but you never can tell.

I trusted Miss Anna, much to my surprise. So, I never really thought what would happen if she did say anything to my mother.

Anyway, it was good she never said anything, it meant I didn't trust her in vain.

I didn't really care even if she said anything to anyone because we were finally moving to another country after my mom managed to gather enough money, likely from various sources like charity following the death of that man, GoFundMe, and a few interviews she attended.

So, my next visit would be my last. I thought it would actually be my final visit to any therapist because I had been trying to convince my mother that I was getting better, and I think she had started to buy it.

As soon as I entered the room with my mother, Miss Anna began sweating profusely. When my mother asked if she was alright, she said she had used too much cream, which irritated her pores.

I must say, she's also a professional at lying.

Then it was just us, and I could see her hand trembling a bit. Her eye bags were quite pronounced, which meant I must have spooked her enough to keep her awake the night before our appointment.

"Are you okay?" I asked, genuinely concerned.

"Of course, Evelyn," she answered with a shaky voice.

I scanned her up and down and then finally spoke, "You know, for a therapist who helps people voice their thoughts and intentions, you definitely haven't seen much. I don't blame you. You were born here and hardly ever left this county after you graduated."

"How… how do you know that?" Miss Anna asked with a horrified expression but tried to play it cool.

"I asked some people," I replied honestly.

"Why were you asking about me?" She was getting more scared by the moment.

"Because I like you, Miss Anna, and I was curious about you. Don't worry; I am leaving this place soon. You don't have to be so tense anymore."

"Are you going to hurt yourself? What do you mean, 'leave'?"

"I'm leaving the country next week."

There was a sigh of relief, which I found amusing. Maybe I like getting people scared, or maybe she cared that I wasn't going to kill myself.

It gave me a sense of superiority and security, and I was happy that Miss Anna showed it to me.

"So, before I go, I'll finish my therapy."

"That day, I thought it was too blissful to be true. A beautiful Wednesday evening with a very colourful sunset. The baby clocked out early because it was tired from crying of hunger. Now that I think about it, my mother couldn't breastfeed because she had hardly eaten in the past few days. She was malnourished and didn't have any milk to feed the baby. We ate leftovers she brought home from her work at Burger King and other shifts. It was very sad. When I heard the bang and had scooped my siblings into my room for safety, I thought it would be the usual hitting routine and I'd get away by sleeping with her, which was a terrible sight the last time I saw them. Not until I heard that horrible scream did I grab the only heel in the house and head downstairs to check if my mother was okay. That was when I saw this man standing near my mother's body, smiling as if he was happy for what he had done. He had stabbed her with one of the table knives, and I can even remember tasting the blood in my saliva."

I paused to gather myself and continued, "I saw my mother staring at me with an expression that said, 'Run, get out of here; he might kill you too.' I wouldn't have minded if he had stabbed her just once, but this horrible man kept slicing her with the knife. I don't know if it was anger or fear of losing my parent, but I grabbed a kitchen knife and rammed it into his back, then removed it immediately. He turned to face me and was met with yet another stab. I lost count after around six stabs. I didn't even give him time to process his death; I made sure he died over and over again, by my hands. The way he stared back at me that day is what makes me sleep well at night. When I heard the police arriving, I sliced my skin a couple of times, tore my dress, and made sure I appeared abused. It wasn't hard to do because that horrible man had assaulted me the previous night. I fainted afterward and woke up a few days later. I must have cut myself really deep, or maybe it was the shock—I don't know."

I paused to look at Miss Anna. She had mixed feelings—perhaps she sympathised and was also spooked by someone who didn't feel remorseful for murdering a man.

"I won't lie; if I had been given that knife and asked to go back to that day, I would have given him more stabs than the autopsy report could count. But I liked that his death was deemed self-defence. It made me seem desperate and helpless to the court, which released me after confirming I had been abused by my guardian."

Feeling much better after talking about my feelings, I hugged Miss Anna and told her how much I would miss her. She wasn't too comfortable but seemed to want me to feel better by hugging me back.

I didn't mind.

Well, my mother came to fetch me a few seconds later and found us hugging.

She was happy that I was being expressive, and finally, I said goodbye to my only therapist to date.