Confidence with a Catch

Trauma. Some people call it "The Death of your best self". That's not entirely accurate but given what it does to some people, it's understandable why they think that. My name is Amelia Chance, and I was diagnosed with post-traumatic stress disorder when I was 18. I had broken up with my boyfriend in high school, since we were planning to go to different colleges. He tied me up, gagged me and stuffed me in the trunk of his car, obviously drunk and shouting about all the terrible things he was going to do to me. He said he had even called over several of his buddies, saying in explicit detail all the things that he was going to have them all do to me.

I spent the entire time he was driving bawling my eyes out, and fought back as hard as I could when I was dragged out of the trunk and stripped naked. I kept trying to shout out, to beg him to stop and to ask him to just calm down and talk to me but the gag made even begging impossible. Eventually, the friends he had called did show up and I tried to get away. All that got me was a kick to the ribs from my ex as the others slowly walked towards me with drunken lust in their eyes. All I could do was shudder in fear, closing my eyes and shaking my head like it would help me wake up from that nightmare. Then a gunshot went off.

His name is Jeffrey Goodman, one of the friends my ex had called, and he threatened to shoot every one of them if they didn't back away from me immediately. My ex tried to call him out, thinking he was bluffing and got a nine millimeter bullet in his leg for his troubles. The others realized that Jeffrey was serious and did as he asked, not wanting any part of the agony that my ex was going through at that moment. Jeffrey helped me get to my feet and walked me over to his car. He had been the designated driver when the rest of my ex's friends had gotten the call, so they weren't able to follow us once he had driven off considering the trouble they were having standing up straight.

Jeffrey used a utility knife in his glove box to help cut me loose. My first question to him was of course was he was going to do with me, tears still stinging my eyes. He responded by telling me that we were going to go to the police and report the others. Of course, I didn't believe him at first but he proved true to his word. He had brought me to the police, made sure I was cared for and told nothing but the truth of that night. A female officer escorted me away while my parents were called and I didn't see or even hear about Jeffrey until years later...

My alarm blared, and I wish I could say it woke me up but I hadn't gotten a wink of sleep all night. Yesterday had been the 8th anniversary of that terrible night and even the thought of dreaming in my sleep terrified me. I had shut myself off from the world ever since then, gained weight and fallen into a state of depression. I had tried everything I could think of to feel better. Therapy, meditation, yoga and countless other methods but nothing seemed to work. I had given up hope over ever feeling happy and safe again, instead just dragging myself through every day.

If I had to pick a rock bottom, it would probably have been last week. The only job I had managed to keep hold of was as a barista at a small coffee shop. I had practiced a fake smile and managed to keep the job for a while but like everything else in my life it was ruined by my trauma. One of the customers would come in frequently and flirt with me. It was likely harmless, but I just couldn't be comfortable or even fake it. One day, he had grabbed my hand while flirting with me and I just lost it. I had thrown fresh coffee in his face and ran into the background, shaking and bawling until my manager told me to go home for the day.

Unsurprisingly, I lost my job for injuring a customer so now I'm sitting at home, once again afraid to venture outside. This has to stop. I need to get control of my life again, I just don't know how. Hopefully, I'll either figure it out or luck into the answer before I run out of money and end up on the streets. For now though, I needed to will myself to get out of bed and try and find a way to stay awake enough to look for the answer.

I groggily push my covers off of myself and zombie-shuffle my way to the kitchen for a few cups of coffee. I may take a nap later, but not until I have no choice but to pass out and confront the nightmares again. Unfortunately, just thinking about the nightmares makes the memory that causes them run through my head and I nearly collapse. I don't want to think about it anymore, but I know that's not going to happen. I've been trying to forget the fear and the pain for years with no success. I also can't forget the one regret I've had...Jeffrey.

I was able to tell the police some of what had happened, and Jeffrey was very honest the night he had brought me to the station. His words and mine got my ex and his bastard friends all arrested, but the bastards all got to say their piece too. As a result, Jeffrey had been criminally charged for using the gun he had used to rescue me since it wasn't actually his. It had been unfair but there wasn't anything I could do. He probably wished he never helped me, at least that's what I figured when I saw his disappointed face when he was sentenced. I lost track of him after that, mostly out of wanting to avoid anyone and anything that could remind me of that night.

Fate seemed to have other ideas though, as I sat and drank my first cup of coffee. A newspaper was delivered to me by a friendly neighbor lady of mine who often brings me my mail as a favor, and who else do I find in an article but Jeffrey Goodman. Apparently he had done well for himself, despite having a criminal record, since the article mentioned some breakthrough new trauma treatment he had apparently invented. That new treatment was the only thing that kept me reading, instead of closing the paper and trying to fight back the memories again. The memories were assaulting me right now, but I kept reading. I needed hope, and god damn if I wasn't going to brave something to get it.

The article had his name and the name of his office. I grabbed my phone off of the counter, unplugging it from the charger and started an internet search for an address. There probably wasn't any way that Jeffrey was going to help me but I had to at least try. It was a surprisingly simple matter to find his office and the phone number to it, so I dialed the number and waited. The phone rang about 5 times before somebody answered.

"Goodman Psychiatric. This is Christina, may I ask who is calling?" the girl on the other end of the line spoke to me.

"Um..." I begin nervously, "My name is...is Amelia Chance. I saw about Jeffrey..I mean Mister Goodman's new treatment in the paper and wanted to know if I could possibly make an appointment?" I started chewing my nails as I waited for her answer.

"I'm afraid that treatment isn't really available to the general public as of right now ma'am. I could schedule you in for regular therapy if you would like. Can I get a phone number to reach you at?" she asked me. I knew there wasn't any point in trying to bargain with her. For now, I'd just need to get in touch with Jeffrey and ask him personally if he could try it on me.

"My phone number is 659-7723. I have the same area code as your office, but when you tell him that I called could you do me a favor?" I asked, twirling my hair nervously. "When you tell him that Amelia Chance called, could you mention I'm the Amelia Chance who sat next to him in Mister Mahwinney's trigonometry class in high school?"

"An old high school friend, huh? You know, if you were just hoping to catch up with him I could just let him know you called. We don't necessarily need to make a therapy appointment." she replied sweetly to me. Her tone and attitude actually manage to bring a small smile to my face as I take a moment to think before I answer her.

"Sure. That might be for the best. Thank you for your help." I reply.

"Not a problem. I'll let him know right away and he'll give you a call back when he can. Have a good day, ma'am." She says before hanging up. I look at my phone, unsure of whether or not I would actually receive a call back from him. I didn't have anything else to hope for though, so I decided that I'd wait for the rest of the day. If I didn't hear back from him, then I'd give up and try to find something else. My eyes wandered back to the newspaper with his picture on it and I gave it a closer look. He had slimmed down a bit from high school, but still had those piercing blue eyes that she remembered. Those eyes had honestly scared me a little in high school, made me feel like he was looking right into my very soul every time we made eye contact.

It seemed ironic then, that he became a psychologist. I allowed myself a chuckle at that thought and walked over to the couch. I turned on the TV, wanting some background noise to keep me awake but it backfired. I couldn't turn the volume up too much because it would disturb my neighbors but I was just too tired and there wasn't anything that wasn't relaxed or slow on right now. I lost the battle with my own exhaustion in less than three minutes and fell asleep holding my now-empty coffee cup. Just like I feared, the memory had become nightmare and I was right back to being tied up and helpless.

Fear coursed through my veins and tears stung my eyes. I knew what was coming. In my nightmares, there was no reprieve and no last minute rescues. My ex and his friends would do what they wanted with me and I wake up screaming, just like every other time. It never got any easier, no matter how many times it happened. It always hurt, it was always scary and I was always begging for help that never came. This time, it was happening in slow motion. My clothes got torn off, my ex sneered wickedly and mocked me in a voice that got more demonic as he kept talking and I was surrounded by the rest of the bastards.

BRRRRZZ. BRRRZZZ. BRRRRZZZ. I'm woken up in the nick of time by my phone going off and I reach out for it with my eyes still closed.

"Hullo?" I answer in a daze.

"Amelia Chance? This is Jeff...er, Jeffrey Goodman? My secretary said you had called. I didn't think I'd ever hear from you again." he said to me. My eyes snapped open, hearing his familiar voice. It was definitely the same voice that had told my ex and his friends to get the hell away from me but it sounded different now. Older, yeah but something else too. It took me a second to realize...he sounded happy. "Amelia, are you there?"

"Oh! Oh, yeah. Sorry, I just woke up." I responded with a nervous chuckle.

"Well, I can call back if this is a bad time."

"NO!" I shout, panicked for a moment before I calm down. "Sorry, didn't mean to yell." I say in a quiet, apologetic tone. "Just...I was having a nightmare. You actually pulled me out of it...again." I said that last word quietly, fighting back my anxiety.

"Oh." he says to me, pausing for a moment. "Damn, I just realized today's date." His voice sounds soft and sweet now. "Are you doing okay?" I sit there for a moment, torn between wanting to be honest with him and wanting to shove my problems on him. Thankfully, my logical side reminds me that I called him to get his help and I manage to continue speaking.

"No, I'm not." I admit, tears making their way into my voice. "I'm sorry to call you like this, especially after what you went through because you helped me but...I need help." My admittance to him breaks down the last flimsy wall of her self-control and I start to sob uncontrollably. "I haven't been able to function, and I've tried everything to help but nothing's worked. Please, I need your help. The memories of that night won't let me live my life." I choke out through my tears.

He doesn't respond to me at all, merely breathing on the other end of the phone and I begin to worry. What if he refuses, or just tells me that it's not his problem? What if he doesn't want to remember that night either, where he lost all of his high school friends just to save me? I desperately want to scream at him to answer me, to say anything to me but I manage to just barely keep enough of my cool to stay silent and wait for his answer. He makes me wait for over 2 minutes before he finally says anything to me.

"Sorry for the silence, Amelia. I was looking over the note my secretary for me about what you were telling her. She wrote down that you wanted to try the experimental procedure that I created. What exactly do you know about it?" He asked me.

"Not much. It was just talked about in the newspaper I got today. I've...I've tried standard therapy and pretty much everything else you could think of. Animals, hypnotism...even fake-ass fucking magic!" I stop speaking and sigh. "I..I'm lost Jeffrey. I know it's unfair, to ask you save me again but I'm at the end of my rope. Please."

"I..." he stopped speaking and sighed deeply, "Alright, alright. Come by my office tomorrow morning and I'll explain exactly how it works. If you still want to try my method.." he sighed again, "I'll get a waiver ready for you to sign. Just...It's going to be a doozy and you might leave more fucked up then when you came in. Tomorrow morning, let's say 8 or 8:30.You've been warned." He said to me in a serious tone before he hung up. I sat and listened to the silence for a moment as his word replayed themselves in my mind.

Whatever this procedure was, it was apparently something dangerous. Any normal person would have probably just decided it wasn't worth the risk, but I haven't been normal since high school. If this could help, even a little, then I had to go for it no matter what the risks were. Otherwise, I would just continue to die inside until I finally had no other reason to keep going. I shuddered at where my thoughts had gone and put my phone back in my pocket.

Chapter 2

8:30 AM. Of course I'd been up since 5, barely having gotten much sleep due to my nightmares but I'd spent a good amount of that time getting as ready as I could for the day. I'd taken a full-on bath instead of my usual shower after working out for the first time in god only knows how long, put on make-up and picked out the outfit I hoped would be the first one I'd wear in my new life. It was a dark-blue dress with a slit up one leg, the sexiest thing I still owned after having thrown everything away and I only kept this one because my late grandma had bought it for me.

Underneath the dress were black lace panties and a matching bra, worn more for their comfort than their style. Finally, I wore a pair of short heels that showed off the toenails I'd painted. I made every effort not to dress conservatively today, knowing that I needed to break out of all my routines if I was ever going to be able to change for the better.

My heels clacked softly as I walked slowly towards the door, forcing myself not to turn around and run back home. There was a small but not unpleasant chiming sound as I entered the office and looked around. The decor was nice enough, plain strong colors that made it not seem like any sort of hospital or doctor's office except for the usual sight of chair against the wall and a coffee table with magazines piled on top of it. Lining the walls were a few pictures of various landscapes, people and copies of some kind of award certificates. I didn't even really have time to look around though before a voice directed itself towards me.

"Excuse me ma'am, do you have an appointment?" the secretary at the far desk asked me. If I recall correctly, she said her name was Christina yesterday. She was a pretty young thing, with blonde hair done up in a bun and small, little glasses that complimented her green eyes and business attire perfectly. "Ma'am?" she asked again, snapping me out of my daze long enough to make me realize I'd been standing in one spot for the past several minutes. I took a deep breath and put on the best smile I could, pathetic though it was.

"Sorry, my mind wandered." I said to her. "I called yesterday and made an appointment for 8:30 this morning with Mister Goodman. My name is Amelia Chance." She raised her eyebrow at me suspiciously and I wasn't sure if she knew I was the woman who had in fact called her earlier, but she stayed completely professional and just opened up a nearby book on her desk. She looked through it for several moments before turning back to me with an extremely pleasant smile on her face.

"It looks like my boss booked your appointment himself. This is HIS handwriting. You must be pretty special." she says to me, closing the book gently and picking up her phone. She punches a few buttons on it and begins speaking. "Hello sir, it's Christina. I'm just letting you know that the 8:30 appointment you wrote in is here. Shall I send her in?" She goes silent for a moment, clearly listening to the voice on the other side as I gulp nervously. "Of course sir." She hangs up the phone and turns back to me. "He says to go right on in."

I breathe out, unaware until that moment that I had been holding my breath and wordlessly nodded and thanked her as I moved past her towards the door with Jeffrey's name on it. My hand trembled a little as I reached for the knob. I knew I was still afraid, even though it was unfair to Jeffrey to be so. He'd offered to help me, but all my mind would let me think of was the pain of the memory of that night that had ruined my life. That I had let ruin my life. I forced myself to choke down my fear as I opened the door to his office and let myself in.

"Amelia?" he says, his voice deeper than I remember it being but definitely still him. My first glimpse of him was the most pleasant shock I'd received in a long while. He'd slimmed down from what I remembered, almost in exact proportion to the bit of weight I'd gained in the years since we last saw each other. He still had that thick chestnut brown hair of his, but he'd grown a very short, well-trimmed beard to compliment it. His deep-blue eyes caught mine and I felt almost hypnotized by them. He'd become quite handsome in the years since high school, his semi-casual clothing of a button-up shirt and slacks only lending him an air of maturity. Seeing him now, like this finally made it hit home of just how long it had been since that terrible night.

"I..Jeffrey? Is that really you?" I ask, gulping a bit and barely able to believe my eyes. Seeing him like this, I couldn't help but feel ashamed of myself. He had gone to court and been sentenced by a judge for using that gun to save me, but while I kept myself stuck in that state of being scared, he had moved on with his life and made something of himself. Tears came unbidden to my eyes as that thought hit me full force. "You got handsome." I say without thinking, covering my mouth a moment later with both my hands. He chuckles in response.

"Thank you." he says, mirth evident in his voice. "I hope you aren't too hurt by me saying this, but I could tell by your voice on the phone how much the...incident hurt you." he says to me sadly, looking at me with the same pity I've heard from nearly every person who's ever found out about my trauma.

"If you're worried about hurting me, then why bring it up at all?" I ask, trying not to let my hurt show in my voice. I can tell by the look on his face I didn't succeed though.

"Because you came to me for help Amelia. I've never helped anyone by being anything other than blunt and fully honest with them." he says, slowly approaching me. I have to fight the urge to step back as he comes right up to me and gently takes my hand in his own. "I wish you didn't have to go through with this...that I'd learned what Jason and the others had planned before we had started driving that night so I could have stopped them or at least warned you. I'm so sorry Amelia." he says to me gently, never looking away from my eyes the whole time.