Free Pushing the Limits by Katie McGarry

darkness remained.
    Mrs. Collins smoothed her black skirt as she sat down in front of me. Maybe no one told her, but sitting on the floor during a therapy session was abnormal. She reined in her Labrador enthusiasm and spoke in a calm, reassuring tone. “You’re in a safe place, Echo, and it is safe to remember.” She stroked the ribbon. “You had a very happy morning that day.”
    I cocked my head to the side and squinted at the ribbon. “I … won?”
    She nodded. “I’m a huge art fan. I prefer statues over paintings, but I still love paintings. I’d rather go to a gallery than a movie any day of the week.”
    This lady was a feather-filled quack. No question about it. Yet in the middle of those annoyingly cheerful plaques hung honest-to-God legitimate degrees. The University of Louisville was a real school and so was Harvard, where she’d apparently continued her studies. I focused on breathing. “I don’t remember winning.”
    Mrs. Collins placed the ribbon on the edge of her desk. “That’s because you repressed the entire day, not just the night.”
    I stared at the file on her desk. “Will you tell me what happened to me?”
    She shook her head. “I’m afraid that would be cheating. If you want to remember, then you need to start applying yourself during these sessions. That means you answer my questions honestly. No more lying. No more half lies. Even if your parents are here. In fact, especially if your parents are here.”
    I reached up to where Aires’ dog tags would have rested around my neck if I had worn them. My eyes never left my file. “Did you bother reading that thing?”
    One finger methodically rubbed her jaw. “Of course.”
    I bit the inside of my mouth. “Then you know. I tried to remember once and you know it isn’t possible.” Not without my mind fracturing in two. The summer after the incident, one psychologist tried to open the steel door in my brain and demons raced out from the crack. I lost myself for two days and woke in the hospital. My nightmares escalated into night terrors.
    “You want the truth?” I asked. “You’re right. I want so badly to know what happened. To prove I’m not … to know … because sometimes I wonder … if I’m crazy like her.”
    I could hear my father yelling at me to shut up in the dark recess of my mind, but the dam had burst open on my fears. “Because I’m like her, you know? We look the same, we’re both artists, and people always say that I have her spirit. I’m proud to be like her. Because she’s my mom, but I don’t want …” To be crazy.
    Mrs. Collins placed a hand over her heart. “Echo, no, you’re not bipolar.”
    But why tempt fate? I’d tried once. Wasn’t that enough? Mrs. Collins didn’t understand. How could she? “If you tell me, I’ll know. I think my mind cracked because that therapist tried to make me relive it. Maybe the memories are too horrible. Maybe if you tell me, you know, just the facts, then the black hole in my brain will be filled, the nightmares will go away and I won’t lose my mind in the process.” I stared straight into her kind eyes. “Please.”
    Her lips turned down. “I could read you the account from the police, your father, your stepmother and even your mother, but it won’t take the nightmares away. You’re the only person who can do that, but that means you need to stop running from the problem and face it head-on. Talk to me about your family, Aires, school, and yes, your mother.”
    My mouth hung open to speak, but then I snapped it shut, only to attempt to speak again. “I don’t want to lose my mind.”
    “You won’t, Echo. We’ll take it slow. You run the race and I’ll set the speed. I can help you, but you’ll have to trust me and you’ll have to work hard.”
    Trust. Why not ask me to do something easier, like prove the existence of God? Even God had given up on me. “I’ve already lost a piece of my mind. I can’t trust you with what’s