ANNOUNCEMENT:
In celebration of BT hitting +150k reads, being added to one of Wattpad's Chicklit profile's reading list, AND hitting +1k followers I have decided to treat you guys to a BONUS CHAPTER.
Can you tell it's been a great week? 😭❤️

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"So how was your first week of classes?" Nichole asks. She's almost hesitant with her question, but at the same time I feel as though she's testing me. Waiting to see if I've either regressed or progressed over the summer.

"Decent," I answer carefully. It had been a bit overwhelming being thrown back into the swing of things, but not necessarily unpleasant. "I like that my courses this semester will be keeping me busy."

Her office hasn't changed much. She still has the same set up. I sit on the couch that's just soft enough to be comfortable, but not so much that I want to sink back and forget the world. On her desk a new picture has been added next to the one of her and her husband. It's a newborn picture of a baby girl with strawberry blonde hair and chubby cheeks.

"And with most of your liberal courses out of the way have you decided on a major?"

"I'm thinking about going for a degree in Fisheries and Wildlife," I nearly whisper. "I would really love a job in the Department of Natural Resources I think."

She tilts her head to one side with a soft smile and she writes on the pad of paper in her lap. "Mabel, you keep using the phrase 'I think.' Are you unsure of your decision?"

"It's not that."

"So you've decided that Fisheries and Wildlife will be your major?"

I nod once, my fingernails digging into my palms. "Yes."

"Then that's great. I'm happy that you have a goal in sight. It'll be something to focus on if you have a bad day." Nichole's smiles are always so genuine and contagious. They always make my chest swell with pride.

We've talked about it before and it's something we're still trying to work through, but we've found that my happiness and confidence tends to rely a lot on other people. Sure, it's healthy to feel good after being praised, but due to my upbringing it's a lot harder to feel that way without praise.

"And how are things on the home front?" She adjusts herself in her seat, crossing one leg over the other. "Did you end up moving in with Alex?"

I bite my lip and nod. I had spent half of my summer in (Washington?) with Aunt Jo, and the other half living with Alex and his roommates. One big happy family that I never thought I would get the chance to have.

"Isn't it a little cramped?" Nichole asks with a chuckle. "Three fully grown men and two women. You must be stepping on each other's toes constantly being in one house together."

"Well, luckily I'm not claustrophobic," I reply lightly.

She raises an eyebrow and smiles again. "Indeed."

We continue chatting for the next quarter of our session. I get along so well with Nichole as my therapist because her questions don't make me feel like I'm being interrogated. That's not to say that I don't feel my anxiety spike with certain topics of discussion, because that definitely happens, but it feels more like I'm venting or talking to a friend rather than a medical professional.

"Alright, it's officially the middle of our session," Nichole says. She points to the watch on her wrist and taps the glass face of it. "You know what that means."

"The hard stuff." The mood between us shifts almost instantly. My hands grow clammy and the muscles along my spine tighten, almost as though they're bracing for physical impact.

"That's right. The hard stuff." Her eyes scan my expression briefly, and then dip down to my lap where I've begun to wring my hands together. "Let's talk about what happened this past winter. How have you been holding up?"

My first instinct is to lie. I want to tell her that everything has been fine, that I've been coping wonderfully. I want her to be proud of me.

But that doesn't get us anywhere.

"Not the best," I tell her honestly.

"Okay. Let's talk about that then."

"I want to forget about it, but I can't." Tears prick my eyes and I feel my lower lip start to tremble. "I've been having nightmares again, but now it's about both of them. And then when I wake up...when I wake up it's not over. I'll look down and there's these scars that cover my stomach and side. Thick, red, and angry. I can't escape it."

"The scars will fade, Mabel," Nichole replies kindly. "One day they will just be silvery little marks on your skin. The anger in them will fade." She pauses for a moment, leaning back in her chair and gazing out the window. "Why don't you tell me a bit more about your night terrors?"

I tell her about the reoccurring scenarios and how they feel so real. I open up and tell her that every time I dream, it's of either my attacker or my father, only in my dreams they finish the job. The attack doesn't end with Alex coming to save me. It doesn't end in a hospital. It's a prolonged death, gory and gruesome.

"Before you go to bed, I'd like you to start recounting the events," Nichole says calmly. "Not the painful parts of course, but rather the fact that you were saved. The fact that you are here and you are alive, Mabel. You can do this either through meditation or journaling perhaps."

We talk a bit more, and the time flies by for the rest of the session. I feel as though a weight has been lifted from my shoulders, leaving a sense of hope in its place.

"Also, there's something else I think would help you heal." Nichole stands up and begins rifling through a folder of paperwork. "Group therapy has been known to help a lot of victims of assault and abuse. I'd like you to try it sometime this month when you have time."

She hands me a piece of paper with an address and a phone number. This time when I stick it in my bag, I know I'll at least try it out once. I won't just throw it away when I get home.

Hazel is waiting in the campus parking lot for me when I step outside. We don't talk much on our way back home, and I know it's because she's giving me my space. It isn't until she's parked in the driveway that she finally speaks.

"You doing okay, babe?" she asks softly.

I nod and put on a smile for her. "I'm just ready to get inside and relax."

"Well, I'm not so sure there will be much of that happening," she replies cryptically.

She doesn't answer when I ask what she means, and I keep asking all the way inside the house.

"We're home!" Hazel calls out as she slips out of her shoes.

"Why are you announcing it?" I ask with a laugh.

"You'll see." She grins mischievously.

Before I can say anything, the sound of nails clicking against the hardwood floors echoes from down the hallway. Hazel opens the entryway door and on the other side is a black and tan colored German Shepherd puppy. It slides across the floor in an attempt to slow its speed, big ears flopping about.

Alex rounds the corner, coming out from the living room and carrying a blue leash. "I told you to wait little dude."

I stoop down to pet the puppy, letting him lick and nibble on my fingers. "Why is there a dog in the house?"

"Because I adopted him," Alex replies with a triumphant smile. "For you, Mabes."

Hazel slips away, heading for her room down the hall.

"What do you mean?" I narrow my eyes at Alex as I continue to run my fingers through the puppy's soft fur.

"I went to the shelter and adopted him." Alex crouches down next to us and sits down. "Really sad story actually. He was rescued from dog fighters. I guess they were going to use him as bait before the authorities got involved."

My chest constricts with sympathy. The puppy stares up at me with his big brown eyes, searching for comfort. Searching for love.

"I read up a bit online," Alex adds sheepishly. "I heard it can be therapeutic or something to have an animal."

"Alex...a dog is a big responsibility," I murmur.

"You're not gonna make me bring him back, are you?" He picks up the dog and presses their faces together so they're both looking up at me. "Look at his little face."

I let out a sigh. "He is pretty cute. I can't be the only one taking care of him though."

Alex grins. "Okay."

"Which means you'll have to help take him for walks."

"Okay."

"And feed him."

"Yes."

"And pick up his poop."

He makes a face and nods. "Gross, but okay."

"Alright, then we can keep him."

✖️✖️✖️

Later that night, when I'm woken up from a night terror, it's not just Alex who I find beside me. Oliver, the name we decided to give the puppy, is cuddled close into my side and gently coaxes me out of the nightmare with soft kisses on my face.

Alex tightens his hold around my middle, still snoring behind me as he sleeps. But Oliver is awake and stares at me with kind, understanding eyes. It's like he's silently telling me that he's here for me.

Oliver licks the tears from my cheeks and nuzzles into the crook of my neck. I pat his back lovingly and burrow my face in his fur.

"I'm here for you too," I whisper to him.

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My heart ❤️😭

There you have it. The first of (hopefully) many bonus chapters to come. The main story of BT may be over, but no one said anything about their story having to completely end 😉
Make sure to tell me what you thought of this chapter, and hit that little star button at the bottom of your screen if you enjoyed it!

Also, Beautiful Obsession has some chapters up so when you're done here head on over and check it out from my profile!

Hope everyone is well,
Kat ❤️