Excerpt 3: Kylie crossed her legs and then her arms. Her emotion was very visible on her face. Her long bangs hung to her eyebrows and bounced back and forth as she shook her head. “I don’t know that much but from what I’ve read, it sounds like it might be able to help me get past some trauma.”
Nodding, Eli silently urged her to continue. “I have tried talk therapy a million times but all they want to do is replay crap over and over. I just stay sad.”
Eli raised his brows but kept the rest of his expression as bland as possible. He crossed his legs, too and leaned slightly to his right. “Have you tried other modalities, other types of therapy?”
She looked down at her fingers which seemed to be wrestling with each other.
“Uh, yes. I did cognitive behavioral therapy, didactic therapy and what’s the other one? The one with the lights?” She looked up at Eli for an answer.
“EMDR,” he was taking notes but not taking his eyes off of her. Nodding again, he said, “And did any of those seem to help?”
Kylie took a deep breath and looked back at her tired fingers and shook her head.
“Okay, well tell me what you know about FLP then and how you found me.”
Kylie straightened up in the chair and said, “Well, from what I understand, FLP is like PLR except you move to a future life instead of a past one. Right?”
Eli nodded, accepting the rudimentary understanding.
“And I found you online. I can’t remember how or what I was googling but it came up and then of course I saw it all over Facebook the next day, all the ads.”
“Yea, pretty interesting how that happens,” Eli rolled his eyes to see if she would smile and she did.
She shifted in her chair then and let herself take a deep breath.
“So Kylie, I think I mentioned in my email reply that the initial session is an intake, so we won’t be doing the FLP today. You understood that?”
She nodded and seemed to brighten a little. “Yes, I get it. I just want to feel better, so I don’t care what I have to do. I’ll do it.”
“Okay, good. So what’s going on? What made you start googling?”
“Well, Dr. Cranston, I…” She picked at a piece of lint on her dress slacks.
“I want to be able to see what life could be like for me. I know that people tell me I should just live my life and leave the past behind but…but they just don’t know what it’s like.”
Eli nodded and took notes. “Yes, and I’m sure some are well-meaning when they say that.”
She shook her head, brows furrowed. “No. They aren’t well-meaning. They aren’t!
Eli was a little surprised at the sudden anger but given her long list of therapy attempts, he wasn’t shocked. She had a lot hiding behind those bangs.
“Okay, perhaps they aren’t well-meaning. Could you venture a guess as to why they might say that, then? Why they wouldn’t be able to understand why you can’t leave the past alone?”
“Because they don’t want to admit what they did to me. They don’t want to go to jail and they would if I wanted to go through all of that, but I don’t. I want to move forward but it’s like I have bricks tied around my neck.”
Eli took a deep breath and another and another until she followed suit.
“So can you tell me what they did to you that makes them afraid?”
Kylie, the professional looking young woman in her late twenties pulled up her sleeve and showed him her arms.
Eli leaned forward and though he kept himself from gasping, he drew his breath in quickly. Kylie’s arms were covered in small round scars, dozens of them. Before Eli could say anything, Kylie lifted her poncho and the thin shirt underneath. From her navel to the bottom of her bra were several long, pink scars, one resembling the letter K.
Eli stopped for a moment, deciding how to approach his next question. He knew it could build a bridge or burn one. He waited a moment before saying anything.
She lowered her poncho and smoothed it over her thin frame, eyes on the floor.
“Hmm…I’m sorry you had to experience that, Kylie.” He waited but she wasn’t budging.
“So when we are traumatized, our wounds are often invisible and others, because they can’t see them, don’t know they’re there, or that they’re still there.” Eli was treading carefully still. “But you have these very visible scars and that must be quite difficult for you.”
And then, as often happens in his line of work, Eli was reminded of the bravery of the human spirit.
Kylie, the forlorn, meek mannered woman in front of him sat up tall and looked square at Eli with eyes that seemed to suddenly come alive.
“These scars are just the diary I kept of what they did to me.”
About the Author
In addition to being a critically-acclaimed author, Caroline Zani is an intuitive medium and a teacher. Left-handed, Aquarius, middle-child, introvert, and empath, she absorbs everything around her which informs her storytelling and writing. Zani teaches others to develop their own intuition. Believing life is about balance and our bodies are where our souls live, she also teaches health, wellness, and stress management classes. She has contributed to articles on Bustle and Boston Voyager and has been a guest on many radio programs. She has one daughter, Amanda, and lives with husband Brian, puppy Tulip, and her soulmate Hermés the Siamese cat, on the hill, under the willows.