Therapy.

The doors file past her, one by one.  They are perfectly aligned with the door adjacent to itself on the other side of the hardwood floored hallway. Silver placards with names engraved across them are placed upon the dark wooded doors. The entire hallway was of a deep ebony wood, with only a single long strip of emerald carpet placed upon the floor. Her footsteps on the hard floor are silent and steady, driven by raw obligation. She pauses, her stone cold expression lingering hesitantly over a particular placard, studying the name. She straightens, and squares her shoulder to the doorframe, and grabs the cold steel knob firmly with a twist. She tosses her head back analytically and exhales silently, trying to hide her desire of wanting to leave immediately.  At the far side of the room is a large office desk, neatly organized and occupied by a rater engrossed woman in her late thirties. Her narrow glasses framed the stern gaze she bore into her work, lips pursed and taut. The young woman having entered closed the door silently behind her and stood quietly by the door, a folder being held in one of her hands. She took this moment to study the cuff link on her left hand and toss back the cascading blonde locks behind her, the charcoal tips whipping softly through the still air.

“Doctor.” She addressed, earning the attention of the busy woman who only looked up from her work with her eyes almost expectantly, a small grin appearing from her thin lips. The doctor studied the younger girl from above the frames of her glasses, standing in her office reluctantly and assuming a demeanor of indifference.  She cleared her throat and gathered a clip board from her side drawer.

“Ms. Gretchen.” she answered. “My apologies, I did not hear you come in. Please, sit.” She motioned to the chair and couch in the center of the room. Gretchen sat herself on the couch, immediately crossing her legs and folding her hands in her lap, the folder tucked under her arm like a book. “Shall we begin?” she asked, but Gretchen said nothing; only nodding her approval. “Very well. Let’s begin with…well, you.” She said, with an added effort of perkiness in her voice. “Tell me, what is it you do?”

“I am attending the local university on a foreign exchange program, but it was of my own choosing to come here. I wanted to leave Germany.” She informed. “I had the means to leave, and so I did. As such, I am currently finishing my last year.”

“Last year, hm? That’s quite an accomplishment. What is it you are going to school for?”

“For a business degree, so that I may keep what is left of my family name when my mother passes the business onto me.”

“And what business is that?”

“Marketing and stock.”

“Fascinating. You mention your mother…how close are you to her?” she asked. Gretchen maintained her neutral expression, her eyes holding only a small glimmer of emotion; and then blinked. “Do you still talk to her?”

“….my relationship that I have with my mother is getting better than before. I was raised by the nanny for most if not all of my childhood.”

“Where was your mother all that time?”

“She was always busy, keeping up with finances and talking to other families like ours.” Her eyes darted downward and focused on her knee, recalling a memory. “My parents used to handle this together, but since his passing it was not ever easy for her to manage on her own.”

“When did your father pass away?” the doctor asked, scratching notes on her clipboard sheet. She pressed the top of the pen to the corner of her lip thoughtfully, and then rested it against the clipboard, waiting for an answer. Gretchen glared sourly to the side, her jaw clenched.

“I was…perhaps five years old, when he passed.”

“That must have been hard on you as a child.” She narrowed her eyes. “Tell me, what was your relationship with your father?”

“…It was different back then. Even my mother. We would go out together as a family to functions all the time. They would both hold my hands, dressed in our best formal wear, and we would enjoy the spring together. My father was…my best friend.” She replied, growing quiet near the end.

“You had a better relationship with your father, then. What was it you two would do?” she asked, holding the tip of the pen just increments away from the paper, ready to take note. Gretchen took a breath, rubbing her thumbs together.

“He would take me to the music theatres, go out for sweets, walk with my one the family estate….” She paused abruptly, her lips tight. A beat passes and the doctor assumes the rest of her questioning, jotting down notes.

“So you two did quite a lot. He sounds like a real family man.”

“He was.” She said quietly.

“He also sounds as if he passed all too quickly. What happened to him?”

“…..he was taken from me.” She replied bitterly. “Over money, someone took his life. We were out with my mother at our summer home in Ireland when it happened. My mother and I went to the farmer’s market to retrieve the items needed for dinner that night…my father stayed behind, because he was talking to a friend of his in the business.” Gretchen slowly uncrossed her legs and kept her knees together, her arms now crossed. “When we returned….both my father and his friend had been murdered in the backyard.” The doctor halted all notes and listened hard, her stern expression never leaving Gretchen’s face.

“…I’m so sorry.” She replied sincerely. Gretchen closed her eyes, trying to focus. “Was it ever brought to justice?”

“Yes. He was found. That would have been a start, if not for my mother.”

“What do you mean ‘a start’? What did your mother do?” she asked. Gretchen opened her eyes, glistening with tears threatening to fall.

“Nothing.” She replied, almost hallow. “Not a thing.”

“She did not care?”

“At the time, it would seem so. I realize now that she was doing everything she could to keep me safe after the event that happened. And tried to keep order in our finances, managing the stocks by herself. I did not understand it when I was younger, I hated her for not crying when I did at my father’s passing, at his funeral, or his very memory of being with his family. She did not shed a single tear, or even smiled after that day.”

“She was being strong for you.” The doctor pointed out, handing Gretchen a box of tissues, who took only one but held it in her hands. “Did she ever re-marry?”

“No.” she replied, breath shaking. “She did not. I do not believe I would have let her, either. No man could replace my father.” The doctor scratched some notes down once more, and paused, the tip of the pen to the paper.

“You said no man could replace him…does this warp your interpretation on men at all?”

“I would like to think not. I have not ostracized myself from men.” She clarified. “When I was sixteen, I went on my first date with a boy in my grade.” Gretchen straightened, fixing her buttoned-down shirt. “But like most young loves, it did not last for very long.”

“Are you married?”

“No. However I was engaged.” She revealed, rubbing her left forefinger gently. “But it also, thankfully, did not last long.” The doctor cocked a curious eyebrow at her, noting the movement but not writing anything down.

“Was it not meant to be? What happened?”

“It wasn’t really a marriage, but a contract built from blackmail.” She sighed. “He threatened my mother’s life if I did not accept. So to protect her, I accepted. It was not until after the hospital admittance did I truly see my mother’s tears and her smile.”

“Why, what happened in the hospital?” she asked. Gretchen bit her lip, recounting the white walled memories of waking up in a hospital bed.

“He tried to kill me, with a large knife to my stomach…but missed my internal organs. Still, I had lost a lot of blood. A wound like that should have punctured or severed something inside me. The surgeon who performed the procedure has told me that it was a miracle that it missed. But I believe it was my father who saved me.”

“That was very lucky indeed. Why did your fiancé try to kill you?” she asked, intrigued.  “Did your mother know about this?” Gretchen shook her head sullenly.

“No one knew about it. In the eye of the public, he could do no wrong. So no one has suspected this of him. He would send me letters of intimacy through the mail, harassing me. I tried to report his actions, but it was never from the same address. It was also printed on paper, never written. He made it so that it would be impossible to frame him. Nothing I did worked.”

“When you came to Germany, was it then that he tried to kill you?”

“He was gentle at first.” She recalled. “But I knew the brute inside him still lurked. He always had a forceful nature, even when we had dated when we were eighteen.” The doctor seemed perplexed, writing something in her notes.

“So, you have known him for some time?”

“Yes. We went to the same school all our lives. When we were teenagers he was very charming, but then on one date in particular, he had decided that we were both ready for another step in our relationship. Naturally, I told him ‘no’, because we were both still in school. That I was not ready yet, but he insisted.” She replied. The doctor remained quiet, analyzing her patient; hardly blinking. “He tried very hard, but I was able to get away. It was then, that…” she swallowed. “that I knew the person he really was underneath. I did not see him again until I returned to Germany to accept his wedding proposal to save my mother’s life.”

“And when you returned to Germany, did he try that again?” she asked, holding her breath silently with her pen to her clip board. Gretchen’s shoulders fell slowly as her head dipped forward, her bangs covering half of her face.

“He did not try.” She replied. “But succeeded.” A moment of still silence echoed in the room for a moment. The doctor raised her pen halfway, and then placed it back against the clipboard, her stern expression beginning to soften for a fraction of a second. “Quite a few times.”

“And still you didn’t report him?”

“How could I?” Gretchen looked up, her eyes filled with pain; a single tear falling down her gentle features.  “This was a man who had even members of the police at his hand. Paid to serve him and give him information. No one would have thought it strange if we were intimate with one another, as we were assumed to be engaged, it was seen as a natural occurrence for us to be together in such a way. It was all too easy for him.”

“That’s not the same as being romantically involved.” The doctor’s thin lips formed into a displeasing frown. “Something could have been done. DNA testing, speaking up—“

“He threatened to kill my mother.” Gretchen raised her voice, irritated; a muscle in her jaw twitching. “I hated everything about him. Everything he stood for, every false word he gave, I would never give a man like him anything.”

“Please don’t be upset, I’m only asking questions to process a proper diagnosis.”

“I am not losing my mind, doctor. I was referred to come here.”

“By who?” she asked. Gretchen relaxed, sitting back into the couch now after finding herself sitting on the edge.

“By the first one I saw, when I awoke in my hospital bed.” She gave a small smile. “The love of my life.”

“Who was it?” the doctor asked, readying her pen.

“Her name is Ashley.” She replied. “She who found her way to follow me to Germany to come and find me, to rescue me before the deed was done.”

“Ashley…” the doctor blinked. “A girl?” she asked, eyeing Gretchen quizzically. “Why?”

“Why? Because it is love.” Gretchen answered.  “She risked her own life getting involved with finding me. Her, my cousin, and his father worked together to save me. Her and I had bonded during a period in which we were alone together for nearly a week. The last night we shared that week was…very much a blur. But I recall fragments of passion and deeply loving her.” She bit her lip, smiling. “It was beautiful, and in that instant I knew that she was the beat my heart needed.”

“That’s very touching.” She grimaced. “Er, you said she came along with you?”

“Yes, but it was not right away. Months had passed and I thought that what I had told her would make her stay in America. I told her that what we did was a mistake.” Gretchen glanced down at split tissue in her lap, the bits of fluff particles began sticking to her black slacks. “After having been lied to that I was carrying his child, she did not falter….and even at gunpoint, when told to walk away, she remained.” She smiled, her blue eyes sparkling. “Love can walk through fire without blinking, doctor.”

“I can agree with that.” She quipped. “She sounds beyond determined to stay with you, even after your efforts if trying to keep her here.” She paused in writing down on her clipboard. “But will it last?”

“Pardon?”

“Your history of relationships would show that you may not know what you want, or know how to gage personalities very well.” She informed. “How do you know this will work? Does your mother know?”

“Of course my mother knows, she and my cousin were there in the hospital with her too.”

“You were all in the hospital?” she asked incredulously. Gretchen waved her hand, trying to demystify the confusion.

“No, no. I was admitted and so was Ashley. There was nothing wrong with her, they just checked her vitals and kept her overnight to keep an eye on her. It was after she awoke did she run to find me. And since we have returned, she has been helping me in picking up medications for my recovery and helping me in the house. Despite my orders to not ‘dote’ on me, as she calls it.” She smirked playfully. “She is very cautious, and will not let me pick up anything too heavy. I think she is more afraid of popping a stitch that I am.”

“Are you almost healed?” The doctor asked, motioning to Gretchen’s stomach. “No complications on recovery?”

“None at all.” She informed almost proudly. “The stitches were removed a week ago, but I am still sore. Ashley reminds me every day of my medications, temporary physical limitations, and helps apply the medication. In return, I give her five German words every week to learn and memorize.”

“You teach her to speak German?” the doctor smiled. Gretchen nodded. “That’s good of you. What do you mean ‘apply the medication’?” She asked. Gretchen gave a tight-lipped grin, a soft pink rising and falling in her cheeks.

“There is this medicated cream that is to be applied to the surface of my wound. To help the healing so there will not be as much of a scar.” She informed. The doctor eyed her curiously and wrote in her notes, her lips pursed; displeased. “She does it because she knows I will not. No one will see it because of where it is, but she insists on helping it heal.”

“Right….well, Ms.Gretchen. It would seem that we are running out of time. But I just wanted to inform you, at any time you may bring your friend Ashley in with you to a session. Since you both are so close and on this road to recovery together.” Gretchen furrowed her brow, balling the tissue into her hand.

“We are not ‘friends’, doctor. She is my girlfriend.”

“I—sorry, that’s what I was trying to say. But yes, you may bring her in for a session. We have couples come in together when it’s just for one of them, to keep tabs on interactions and relations.” She smiled and offered her hand. “It was nice talking with you, Ms.Gretchen. I look forward to seeing you next week.” Gretchen nodded and took the woman’s hand, giving a firm shake.

“I look forward to it. I will let her know of the possibility of coming in.”

“Oh yes, please.” The doctor grinned. “I would love to hear her side of this story. You both have been through so much together, in just a short amount of time.” Gretchen’s eyes smiled as she dismissed herself to the door.

“I will see you next week.”