Chapter Text
The flowers were hideous.
It was all Bianca DeSousa could think as she stared at the painting on the wall across from her. It was the only source of color in the room. Blue backdrop, brown ceramic pot, pink and yellow flowers. It was so ugly. Yet she had to keep her gaze locked on it, because otherwise she would be forced to look the old woman in front of her in the face.
“Bianca,” Dr. Lawrence said softly. “If we’re going to get anywhere, I need you to talk to me.”
She stiffened but tried not to show it. This was her second session with Dr. Lawrence and they’d barely scratched the surface of her issues. All the therapist knew was that Bianca had been involved in a gang and was currently on probation. Bianca also told her at the end of their first session that everything “blew up” on Prom Night. That wasn’t even getting into the physical abuse, the sexual abuse, the drugs, Anson, Vince repeatedly attempting to murder her boyfriend, or the fucking childhood that led to her getting involved with these people in the first place.
“What happened that night, Bianca?” Dr. Lawrence asked, somehow making her voice even gentler.
Bianca squeezed her eyes shut tight as the memories from prom flashed fresh in her mind. It had been almost two months ago, but it felt like yesterday. Probably because the nightmares were still just as frequent and vivid.
“I went to prom to get away from Vince. The gang leader,” she clarified. “He had beat me up the day before because he found out that I signed up to help with Grade 9 Orientation to get away from him.” She felt the instinct then to cover up her wrist, even though A) she was wearing short sleeves and B) the bruise from that particular incident was long gone. She could still feel it there, though. Feel the pain, see the mark.
She took a deep breath. “Drew–my ex–was also working orientation and he found out about…this whole thing,” she continued. “You know, me being involved with Vince.” Bile rose in her throat. She swallowed.
Dr. Lawrence nodded, urging her to go on.
“Drew’s the one who bought me a prom ticket,” she said, feeling a little bit of warmth restore in her body as she talked about that. But it quickly went south again. “And I don’t know–I guess he met up with Vince and threatened him, or something– ‘cause Vince thought that I was ‘escaping’ him and showed up at prom.” Her breath got shaky as the image of Vince appearing in the doorway with a gun appeared. She squeezed her shut even tighter, trying to prevent the tears from coming. The worst part about this whole situation was that she couldn’t control when she cried anymore. There was none of that burning sensation behind her eyes. The tears came without warning because they had been flowing incessantly for months.
She was not about to cry in front of this woman she’d just met. Especially with the hideous pumps and even more hideous pencil skirt the therapist was wearing.
She opened her eyes and straightened up, trying to keep her voice steady. She didn’t really succeed. “I think he was trying to kill Drew, but the bullet ended up hitting Drew’s brother, Adam.” Now it was the sounds of Adam’s wailing and Drew’s freaking out as Bianca creeped over to grab Vince’s gun. Her surroundings, in that moment and right now, were a blurry haze, but those two sounds were clear and piercing. “He was trying to send me a message. I could never get out. So I grabbed the gun–Vince dropped his gun–and I went after him. I was going to kill him. I didn’t care what happened to me. I just wanted out.”
She heaved in the biggest gulp of air. Speaking those words felt both like a huge weight had been lifted and like somebody had just dropped heavy rocks on her, shattering her bones.
This was the first time she had talked about this with someone other than the cops. Dr. Lawrence was the third attempt at therapy. First had been the group for female survivors of domestic abuse. She was one of three teenage girls in that one. She’d heard some pretty horrifying things, like the shit these women had to endure from their husbands. That was just it, though. Everyone else in that group had been abused by someone they loved at one point. Someone they wanted to be with. A boyfriend, a husband, one girl was even in a friends-with-benefits turned lovers situation. Bianca did not love Vince. She’d never wanted to be with him. He wasn’t even technically her partner. That wasn’t the right group for her.
Next she’d tried a group for girls who had escaped gang life and prostitution and stuff like that. That one was slightly more helpful, but it still wasn’t specific enough to her situation. Nobody else had killed their ex-boyfriend in self-defense and let their current boyfriend take the fall, leading to a gang member trying to kill their boyfriend. Nobody else had been forced into doing things for the sake of keeping someone they loved alive. None of them had anyone they loved or anyone who loved them. That was what set Bianca apart from them.
Eventually, Audra and Omar decided that Bianca needed to just have one-on-one therapy, like Drew was doing. She had really been hoping to avoid that. She didn’t want to relive all of this with some bird who was getting paid to pretend to care. She’d really rather just get back to life and school and try to move on. But part of the condition of Drew’s parents paying for her lawyers was that she attended therapy. They wanted her and Drew to “work through their trauma.” As if that was even possible with Bianca.
“What stopped you?” Dr. Lawrence asked.
Bianca pictured herself back in that alley, feeling the cold May weather chilling her heels and seeping through the crack in the back of her red dress. She’d been shaking uncontrollably, much like she was now, the loaded gun in her right hand. She was just waiting for Vince to come out of his safe house. As soon as he did, she was going to pull the trigger. She would have really done it, too. She felt nothing in her body then but cold-blooded hate. Her heart was pumping fast in her chest. She didn’t care if she went to prison. She didn’t even care if she died. At least then she couldn’t be used as a pawn in anyone’s games anymore.
But then she heard it. At her lowest and darkest point, she heard her name in the dark, shadowy distance. “Bianca.”
His voice was loud and soothing. She always loved when he said her name. Especially this day, when she hadn’t heard it in so long. Something about it filled her body with warmth, jumpstarting her heart back to life.
“Drew,” she told Dr. Lawrence. “He found me and told me that my life was worth living. He convinced me to turn myself in and tell the cops everything I knew about Vince and the gang. He told me his parents would help keep me out of trouble.” She held up her hands. “And now here I am.”
“Here you are,” Dr. Lawrence repeated.
Bianca sat back, relieved to be done with this story. She glanced at the digital clock on the therapist’s desk. Damn. It was only 3:15. Still 15 more minutes of being stuck in this hellhole.
“Drew is Omar and Audra’s son, correct?” Dr. Lawrence asked, flipping through her notes.
“Yeah.”
The therapist crossed one leg over the other. Then she bit off her pen cap and kept it in her mouth. “How does he fit into all of this?”
Bianca’s stomach dropped. Here she thought she’d gotten through the hard part for today. But truthfully, there were no easy parts to this story. Some were just suckier than others.
Like this one. She sighed, really hoping the tears didn’t decide to come during this spiel. The guilt she still felt over getting Drew involved in her shit was unbearable. She had already apologized to him, Audra, Omar, and even Adam several times for it and it would never be enough. Especially since Audra and Omar were being so nice to her and helping her get lawyers. That was another reason why she wished she wasn’t doing this therapy thing. She didn’t want to owe them any more than she already did.
“He was my boyfriend,” she started. “We started dating in the middle of the school year.” Images of her and Drew laughing and having fun together in the beginning of their relationship flashed through her mind. She quickly blinked them away. They might make her smile for a moment, but the pain over losing those times in the way that she did would quickly dominate. Those pure memories were permanently tarnished by violence and ugliness.
“We went to a concert one night,” she continued. “And my ex-boyfriend, Anson, showed up. Anson was in Vince’s gang.” Her voice started shaking again and she gripped the side of her chair. Dr. Lawrence attempted to make eye contact with her, but she refused. Keeping her gaze on the cream carpeting, she launched into the rest of the story. All of it, full detail. She talked about how she met Anson and all of his “friends”, how he quickly became abusive to her and she only got away from him because he went to prison for drugs. Then she talked about the fight she and Drew had at the concert, how Anson found Bianca after and tried to rape her in the alleyway only for Drew to intervene. That of course turned into Drew nearly getting beaten to death and Bianca hitting Anson over the head with a brick without thinking. Then that connected the dots of Drew taking the fall for Anson’s death to keep Bianca out of juvie and Vince attempting to kill Drew to avenge Anson. That, Bianca explained, was how she got involved in this “arrangement” of sleeping with Vince and pushing drugs for him. Oh, and serving as his personal punching bag. She was doing it in exchange for Drew’s life. His normal life.
By the time she was done explaining it all, Bianca could hardly breathe. She felt like she was choking on her words as she talked. Her eyes were moist, but miraculously, she was not crying. Either she was better at keeping it together than she thought, or she was still just numb to this entire situation. Either were possible. Her shutting down during all of this was pure survival instinct. If she accepted the pain, she could get used to it.
Dr. Lawrence didn’t say anything for a very long moment. Bianca tapped her shoe against the floor. She’d probably freaked the fucking therapist out by dumping all of that on her. Dr. Lawrence had asked for it, but still. There was no way she could have been prepared for that.
Maybe she’d tell Audra and Omar that Bianca’s case was too much to handle and revoke her sessions. Bianca certainly wouldn’t mind that.
“You clearly care a lot for this boy,” Dr. Lawrence finally said. “Given the sacrifices you’ve made for him.”
Bianca shifted uncomfortably. She played with one of the sequins on the pillow next to her, pinching it between her thumb and forefinger.
“I can see why,” Dr. Lawrence added. “Considering the role he and his family have played in helping you.” She set her notes down and crossed her hands together in her lap. “I have to say, though, he does sound a little naive about certain things.”
She raised her eyebrows.
“Going to see Vince in person, his reaction to seeing you and Anson talking at the concert…” Dr. Lawrence waved her pen expectantly. “Those don’t seem like the most informed responses.”
“Yeah, he didn’t--he didn't know,” Bianca quickly replied. “He didn’t understand any of that stuff. But I didn’t tell him a lot of it, either. I was trying to protect him. And he was just trying to protect me, in the best way he knew how.” This time she could feel tears sliding down her cheeks. Fuck. She buried her face in her palm, trying to wipe them away discreetly, trying to keep from sniffling or bawling. But it was no use. The hot tears just kept flowing. She could taste the salt in her mouth.
She refused to look up at Dr. Lawrence. The therapist thankfully just gave her her moment. Once she was sure the tears had slowed down, she carefully lifted her face, which was now warm and red. Unfortunately, she made direct eye contact with the therapist for the first time all session. Dr. Lawrence had a look of pure sympathy–of pity in her eyes. Bianca quickly looked away again. God, she hated that shit.
“Bianca,” the therapist finally said. “None of this was your fault, you realize that, right?”
She was definitely getting paid to say that. “Yes, it is,” Bianca insisted. “It’s my fault that Drew and his family got involved in all of this. I never should have gotten involved with someone like him.”
“Someone ‘like him?’” Dr. Lawrence raised her eyebrows.
“Innocent,” Bianca clarified. “With a normal life. I should have just stuck with guys like Anson.”
“A guy who abused you?” Dr. Lawrence said doubtfully. “You deserve better than that, Bianca. You’re worth more. You fell in love with someone; that’s not a crime. You just got dealt a bad hand in life and you’re still figuring your way out. That’s okay.”
Bianca didn’t reply. She had a very hard time believing that.
Dr. Lawrence looked at the clock. “We’re out of time,” she said, standing up. “But this was a very productive session, Bianca. I’m proud of you for opening up.”
Thank God. Bianca stood up, wiping her face one more time. She offered the therapist a faint attempt at a smile and turned to head out of the office. Finally, back to civilization. And light.
“See you next week,” Dr. Lawrence said.
Bianca stopped, the thought of coming back and sitting in this dark office instantly filling her with dread yet again. She’d basically just dropped her life story ten minutes ago. What more did the therapist need to know?
As if reading her mind, Dr. Lawrence said, “We still have plenty to talk about. I want to hear more about your background, about you as a person. I want to hear about your goals and your plan moving forward. I want to help you achieve those goals. Also–” she looked down. “I am concerned about how casually you rattled off this year’s events. I think we need to spend a lot more time working through each of those things.”
Great. That was exactly what she wanted. All the hard work she’d done to not feel those things and now this woman wanted her to feel them. Bianca wasn’t an expert, but wasn’t therapy supposed to make you feel better, not worse?
“Thanks, Dr. Lawrence,” she said, stepping out of the office without looking back. Trying not to gag, she threw out the ultra-rehearsed line. “You’ve been a big help.”