Page 1 of Fractured

Chapter One

Kat

“Okay, I’m losing it, Dr. Miller,” I blurt out, unable to calm the chaos swirling within me. It’s barely been two days since my date with Mark, and I’m back in my psychologist’s office for an emergency visit. Yearning for comfort, I sink lower into this god-awful green velvet low-back chair. It may be worthy of a Home Magazine cover, but it’s one of the most uncomfortable things I’ve ever sat in. Why can’t he have one of those chaise lounges like psychiatrists have on tv? “I honestly don’t know what’s happening to me anymore.” Looking up to this kind, handsome counselor, I feel tears start to spill.

He slowly pushes a box of tissues in my direction, a greater sense of concern reflected upon his stunning face. “Kat, why don’t you start at the beginning. What’s happened since the last time I saw you?”

Grateful for any help putting the pieces of this mind-numbing puzzle together, I begin. “Well, I stopped taking the zolpidem after we last spoke. I can’t risk using it until I’m sure I have better clarity on why I’m waking up with things in disarray. I’ve never had issues with sleepwalking, but I’ve been alone so long, who knows.” Shaking my head at my situation, I try to refocus. “I haven’t had much alcohol lately either. I just need to know I’m going to bed with a clear head. I don’t want to keep waking up wondering what happened the night before.”

“How has your sleep been? Have you reverted to the night terrors?” he asks softly, again just enough concern present to make me feel comfortable in sharing my ridiculous life with this near stranger.

“Oddly, I haven’t had a night terror. I mean, not like the ones I had before I started the sleeping pill. Just the crazy stuff I mentioned, which practically borders on erotica. Plus, the occasional visions of punishing old boyfriends. It takes me longer to get to sleep without the zolpidem, but I think it’s because I have so much on my mind… I can’t shut it off. But I don’t wake up screaming anymore.”Well, unless you count waking up from a dream of hot as hell Dr. Barnes inducing a mind-blowing orgasm. But that kind of screaming I’m okay with.

“Well, what’s changed since I saw you last that has you thinking you’re losing your mind? Particularly if you’ve stopped the pills and the night terrors are gone? Are you still awakening in a state of undress?”

“Well, yes and no.” Stopping to assess how to share my most recent concern, I begin again. “Dr. Miller, I… well, I had a date the other night and…”

“Go on, Kat. It’s okay,” he encourages.

Pulling on the long braid draped over my shoulder as if it’s my safety blanket, I cry out, “I don’t remember most of it.” I look up, noticing a blank stare. “He met me at my home, and I remember going to a restaurant downtown. Dinner was okay, just awkward because I really didn’t want to be there. I agreed to this date during a moment of weakness and hoped it would pacify him that I went, but I planned to tell him we should stay friends. There’s no spark, and he’s part of a close circle of friends,” I rattle off quickly.

“Anyway, the evening started rather odd, as I found him in my bedroom. I don’t know if he was snooping or what, but he was holding a pair of boots I didn’t know I owned until I woke up wearing them one morning following one of my crazy dreams. That paranoia coupled with the aggravation of finding him in my room had my nerves on edge. That I’m clear on.”

Stopping momentarily, I try to scan the recesses of my mind for the last thing I recall from that night. Grateful for Dr. Miller’s patience, I continue. “I remember I turned down having a nightcap at home. He then asked if we could walk to a bar a few doors from the restaurant for a drink.”

After what seems like long minutes of crickets chirping, I look up from the floor where I’ve been concentrating on an errant tuft of rug fiber sticking out of an expensive oriental tapestry like it has all the answers. The penetrating blue eyes of this Matthew McConaughey doppelganger look back at me imploring. “What happened next, Kat?”

“That’s just it. I have no idea. I have no way to confirm it because I swear, I feel like I lost hours along the way that night. But I’m sure I didn’t take a sleeping pill. There was no pill bottle out. No glass of water. The bottle is still tucked away in the back of the cabinet I’d placed it in when I decided to stop using them.” I pause, hoping desperately to connect the dots. “I only had a small glass of wine at dinner, which I didn’t finish, and a Margarita at the bar. But in the morning, I woke up in my bra and panties from the night before, nothing else. My clothes were tossed on the floor instead of on the bench at the end of my bed as usual. The whole thing is mind-boggling. I don’t remember the end of the date at all.” Dropping my head into my hands in shame, I try to keep from losing it in his office. I just want to go home and sit in a hot bath and cry until there’s nothing left.What the hell is happening to me?

“Katarina? Do you think you were assaulted?” Dr. Miller interrupts with a more serious tone. I look up, noticing he’s now leaning forward slightly in his chair.

“I don’t think so.” I admit it had crossed my mind, but it doesn’t make sense. I know Mark. And my crazy nighttime antics started long before a date with him. “I didn’t have any marks on me. There wasn’t any swelling. I didn’t feel particularly sore. Plus, would a guy put your underwear back on after he was done? It doesn’t make sense. I really am losing it.”

“Kat. We will figure this out. The priority right now is to make sure you are safe, and what’s more, youfeelsafe and secure. Is there anyone you could stay with for a while?”

“What? No. I don’t want anyone else knowing how crazy my life is that I can’t stay home alone. Plus, the only people I could call on have small kids. I couldn’t impose on them like that. I’ll be fine. I probably should take some time off. I never go anywhere, so I have a ton of personal leave.”

“Well, I wouldn’t recommend going anywhere right now, but the time off is a good idea. Not needing to be at work will decrease the stress contributed by your lack of sleep. Is there a way you could invest in a security camera? Doesn’t have to be expensive, something like a Nanny cam. Something to let you look back on the events of the evening to see if you have left your bed?” he inquires cautiously.

“I hadn’t thought of that. That might give me some answers.” Leave it to me to need a security camera focusing on me instead of an intruder.

“I would encourage you to take as much time off as you need. Try to develop a routine. Try to wake at the same time, get in a workout if that’s something therapeutic. Eat right and stay away from alcohol and sleeping pills. You may even want to keep a journal. It might surprise you the things you recall when you write. You may find something triggers your memories,” he urges

Gazing at this miracle worker, I reply, “Thank you. I don’t know how you did it, but I feel much better, Dr. Miller.”I still feel crazy, but I have a plan, at least.

“I’m just doing my job, Kat. I think we should set weekly appointments for a while until you feel things have moved to a healthier place. Is that okay?”

“Yes, of course. I’d appreciate that.” I give the semblance of a smile. It’s the first I’ve felt for days.

Departing his office door, I greet Delilah and make next week’s appointment. She really is striking. They are fucking Ken and Barbie. If I find out there isn’t a hot office romance happening here, I’m going to be sorely disappointed.

“We will see you next Wednesday at 3:15.” The blonde-haired, blue-eyed receptionist hands me an appointment card along with a kind smile. Leaving the office, I remember I have my volunteer job delivering meals to seniors next Wednesday, but I should be done in time. Contemplating my schedule as I open my car door and slide in, I remember Dr. Miller encouraging a sabbatical from work. This is unlike me. I’ve never called out sick. It’s so last minute. Looking at the calendar on my cell phone, I notice I have a four-day break from the ER after my next shift. I hope one of the part-time people can pick up tomorrow’s shift on such short notice. I’ll have to call Jake.

* * *

Arriving home, I drop my keys in my purse and place them on the entryway bench. Walking to my kitchen, I decide to put on a pot of tea while I prepare to call Jake. Maybe I’ll be fine with five days off. I can get my life back together and get back to work. Tossing around various ways to broach the subject with Jake, I finally chicken out on calling and simply send him a text.

2:25 p.m.

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