Bleached Nightmares.

“Melany?” The receptionist asked, scanning the pale and dreary room. I slowly raise my tired eyes, giving her a curt nod. I don’t trust my voice to sound strong, at least not today. 

The cheery receptionist waves me down, smiling a little too wide. I’m in a therapists office lady this is not a happy time. I swiftly Rose on wobbly legs, trudging over to the dark oak desk she sits behind. 

“Dr. Ackerman is ready for you Melany,” she declares, pointing to the door to my left. 

“Just Mel,” I mumble tapping my fingers against my dark denim jeans. 

“Alright then Mel, head on in,” she reaffirms, nodding her head twice. I slowly turn continuing the daunting walk. 

I had felt confident about today all week, but the second I sat down I realized what was ahead of me, I had to talk about things I never wanted to re-live. That was something I stupidly hadn’t realized. And now I’m standing outside the door, hand raised and ready to knock. Feeling completely on edge. I’m not stupid, I know there’s something wrong with me and I need help. Although I never thought it would be this difficult. I’ve pushed myself before, and I’ll push myself again, so with a shaky sharp breath and a rigid body, I knock. 

 mere seconds pass and the door aggressively swings open, revealing a small man. Wrinkled and weathered, a fragile grandfather most likely. 

“Come In then,” he mutters, his voice thick and gruff. I think me and this guy are on the same wave Length, this shit sucks. 

He turns silently and I follow suit. Leading me into a bland office. The walls an out of date cream colour, a beige arm chairs in the centre of the room, directly across from a green leather couch. How darling. The shaggy grey carpet slowing my already unhurried steps 

“It’s lovely to meet you,” he says glancing down at the clipboard in his hand briefly, “Melany.” 

“Just Mel,” I repeat again. 

He lowers his elderly body to the chair. I follow his lead flopping on the couch haphazardly. My breathing shallow as a putrid smell envelopes the air, chemical, bitter and violent. I  know that smell, the doctor likes to use bleach. Although it is a common item to clean, I can’t help but narrow my eyes at the wrinkled man. 

“So Mel, why exactly are you here today,” Dr. Ackerman inquires, staring at me with tired eyes.

“I got fired,” I sigh deciding to jump right into my plethora of problems “you see doc, I’ve started to do this thing. I catch a smell, see or hear something that reminds me of, well unsettling events. Then I remember it. And it’s not some kind of faint memory, it’s wickedly vivid. Like I’m there again, watching myself. I can’t do anything to stop it. It never happened at work, until it did,” I finish, my eyes focused on my shoes. 

“You disassociate frequently then?” He asks, my eyes flick up as I nod my head. 

“Tell me exactly what happened for them to fire you,” he demands. 

“Ok.” 

She was sitting at her desk, typing hurriedly. Mel had finished an important document, starting on the next when her boss appeared. He slammed his hands down on the wood in front her. She jumped in fear flinching away from him. Then he said something, something so familiar and vile. It sent her back there, a place Mel never wanted to go. The words echoed in her ear. ‘your worthless Melany,’ it cooed immorally. 

Melany was forced back to a memory, her eyes appeared distance and cloudy. Stung with tears, bleary eyed and whimpering. 

Then she snapped, standing quickly. Thrashing wildly. Melany was completely and utterly out of control. She was trying to Protect herself of course. Then when her boss registered what was happening, caught sight of her tear stricken cheeks. He did the worst thing possible, he grabbed her. Trying to settle her down. This only frightened her more, the fragile girl started to swing, kicking and punching with as much force as she could muster. 

She heard him screaming, begging her to stop. Melany didn’t stop. By the time she came too and realized her actions, her boss was barley recognizable. Precious roses spilled from his countless cuts. The floor stained a dusky rufescent.

She was covered in the vital substance as well, blood dripped from her knuckles, splashing to the floor in puddles. Her crisp work clothes wrinkled,  stained with tears and gore.    

“At least that’s what they tell me,” I state finishing my retelling. 

The doctor stares at me still, tapping his pen incessantly on his clip board. 

“Interesting,” he mumbles jotting something down in my file. “Why exactly did you tell me that as though it was about someone else?” Dr.Ackerman questions. 

“No reason” I blurt instantly. 

“Lying isn’t going to make you better Mel,” he grumbles raising an inquiring brow. 

Shit.

“It’s easier to talk about when it’s like you’re gossiping. Like it wasn’t actually me. I don’t like feeling crazy. If I don’t say I, or me, or anything along the lines of that. I feel okay,” I admit rubbing the back of my  neck in frustration. 

He only nods, obviously mulling it over and writing it in my file. That definitely made me sound even more crazy. Wonderful. 

“We have time for another story,” he pressed  “How about you tell me why you dissociate.”

My eyes widened instantly, I hadn’t imagined I would have to do this today. My first therapy session. I can’t avoid it much longer. I see something and I think of her, I smell something and I think of her. It’s always her. I have tried to capture it before, push it deep inside and forget. But something like that does not sink. No matter how many rocks I tie to it’s ankles, it will become buoyant again. For all my life I let her drain the happiness from every waking moment. She was a balloon being pumped full of air, it kept going and going. Her rubber exterior stretching and becoming thin. Until she popped. All I can remember is the day she popped.

“Listen closely, I won’t say this aloud again.”

She was sitting at the kitchen counter when the door unlocked. It was late, and Melany knew what that meant. The door swung open and slammed closed. Her mother was not in a good mood, and when she saw what Melany had done, she would become unimaginable. 

Melany smelt her before she saw her. The air filling with the smell of stale alcohol. Her mom was drunk, again. 

“Melany!” Her mother Leila yells.  

“Yes mum,” she mumbles shakily. 

Melany’s mother does not reply, she continued on her slow wobbling trek through their house. Mel knew where she was going, the liquor cabinet. She scrambled out of her seat following her mother closely. She knew what Leila would do, hopefully her obedience would benefit her this time. 

“You little brat!” Leila screeched. Causing a timid Melany to flinch away from the oh so familiar sound. 

Her mother came around the corner, latching her clawed hand onto Melany’s arm. Leilas grip was one of sheer force, her intention is to cause pain, pain she would undoubtedly inflict. 

Melany knew better than to fight back, to beg, to do anything in this moment. She fell limp as her mother drug her feet against the floor. The scene Melany cause has come into view now, she could practically feel the rage emulating off of Leilas body. Countless bottles of alcohol defaced and broken strewn across the carpet. Earlier in a fit of rage, Mel attacked the liquor in anger screaming and crying as she crushed cans and bottles. Spinning around in pools of liquor as she launched glass bottles varying in colours and smells at the wall. When she was finished she simply glared at the alcohol covered wall, taking a long swig of golden brown whisky, shuttering at the repulsive taste. 

“How dare you!” Leila muttered, grabbing Melany by the shoulder and pushing her into a field of foggy shards of glass. Melany hissed in pain as glass pierced her delicate skin, cuts and scraps covering her body. Her own blood swirling and mixing into thick puddles  of liquor. 

“I-I’m sorry!” Melany pleaded. Her mother picking up glass with a wicked grin. “Mother please.” 

But there was no use, Leila was ruthless and evil. Slashing a thick gash down Melany’s cheek.she gasped and cried out in pain. Her blood and tears creating a vulnerable pattern across her face. Leila did not stop, she would not stop. Melany’s face was cut and bruised, her rips cracked. Leila hit, punched and kicked. It felt like Melany laid there for hours, her mother beating and abusing her. Muttering words that stung worse than the pain. When Mel believed Leila to be finished she sighed in relief, or she thought she did, it sounded more like a pained gurgle from the back of her throat. 

But Leila returned, a Cheshire Cat grin curling her lips. With a bottle of bleach. The things that happened next Melany tried to block out, but unfortunately she could not. Not when her mother poured bleach all over her already cut up body, bleach seeping into every cut, burning her skin violently. Her entire body covered in angry red welts. She screamed and thrashed. Glass and bleach infiltrating her body. 

Leila left her daughter there all evening, drenched In blood, alcohol and vomit. Near death, tired and Only after Melany passed out,  Leila Cleaned the floors with that same bleach.

“That was the last time she did something like that, and the worst.” I stated wiping betrayal off of my damp cheeks. 

Doctor Ackerman only stared, a look of pity sweeping across his features. I fiddled with my auburn hair, returning his gaze. 

“Next time I’ll be sure to forget the bleach in the cleaning cupboard,” he sighed shaking his head. 

“Mel?” He asks “you know that happened to you, don’t you?” 

A painful laugh scrapes up my throat.

“More than anything doc,” I croak. 

“I’m Melany,” I whisper squeezing my teary eyes closed. “Call me Melany.” 

“Alright then Melany, I’ll see you next week,” he says softly. 

I nod my head in agreement, I know I need help, I know that this happened to me. I know. 

But I swear. 

He better forget the fucking bleach.