The Writhing Session 1

The walls of her therapist’s office were white, no paintings or pictures to be found.

Andrea sat on the therapy couch and told her therapist her problems.

“Let’s try something. I’m not just a therapist, I’m also an inventor,” Marinda says as she slowly pulls a machine with a helmet attached out of the closet.

“Have you tried this on any of your other patients?” Andrea asks.

“No,” Marinda says as she sets the helmet over Andrea’s head. “Now we turn it on and it should allow us to watch your memories from afar and talk about them”

An electric current flows from the machine, through the tube, and into the helmet.

Marinda puts on a set of goggles connected to the helmet.

Andrea falls asleep and so does Marinda.

They enter Andrea’s most recent traumatic memory.

A teenage Andrea watched TV in her bedroom upstairs when she hears shouting from downstairs. She looked outside and saw her father rush to his truck and drive away.

“What memory is this?” Marinda asks.

“It’s the last time my father left us. He had walked out on us a few times before, but this was the last time before he went to Louisiana.”

A tear fell down her face outside the memory and while watching the memory.

“It must have been hard for you, did you see your father again after that?” Marinda asks.

“No, I didn’t want a relationship with him after he got remarried.”

“And that is very commendable, but why do you think you don’t want a relationship with him?”

“I feel like he moved on from my mom, moved on from me!”

“Andrea, your father loves you and you will always be his daughter. Have you tried contacting him?”

“No, but he tried contacting me. I won’t answer his calls or texts. I even changed my phone number.”

“Why?”

“I don’t want to deal with drama. I’m afraid he’ll want to talk about his girlfriend or his job. I don’t want to hear how he’s moving on.”

“But, everyone moves on eventually. No one will stay the same forever.”

“I know, but I can’t!”

“Why not? — Oh, and that’s the end of our time.”

The timer dings and the machine turns off. Andrea is in the dark in her helmet. Her therapist removes the helmet. Andrea is crying and her mascara runs down her face along with her tears.”

“See this is more immersive than regular therapy. I think I really got through to you and made some real progress,” Marinda states.

“I know, but that was really painful to watch and process,” Andrea replies, wiping the tears from her eyes with a tissue.

“But now you’ll go through the grieving process faster. Was it worth it?”

“No, I don’t think I can do this again.”

“We’ll try something less traumatic next time.”

“Okay,” Andrea anxiously laughs a little.