The World That Was Mine (Part I & II)

Part II: I

Daphne looked like she didn't quite believe me, but she didn't press. Daphne never pressed. I guess it was her job to take my lies in stride, instead of calling me out. I've been seeing her for a month now. She was nice. I liked her, and it didn't hurt that she had come highly recommended by Teo. I wanted him to be my therapist if I was being forced at all, but Logan said that was a conflict of interest or something like that.

"School? How's that going?"

"Still at home." I hadn't gone back after the accident. I wasn't physically or mentally well enough to contend with school, or any of its many problems that went with it.

"I heard Liams not a very good teacher."

I tried to smile at the good natured teasing of my brother, but smiling wasn't something I did often. Even fake ones were hard to muster these days. I shrugged. "He's okay. He's trying his best." He'd taken time off work to home school me the last few months. I couldn't complain about someone who'd made such a sacrifice for me.

Daphne smiled. "I'm sure he is Izzy. Everything else okay?"

I tried for the next 20 minutes to think of things to tell her, that would only keep us at the surface of what we needed to talk about. She wanted me to open up. I wanted to clam shut for the rest of my life. It was a silent battle of wills between us, that I knew I would win. If there was one thing I was good at, it was hiding within myself. It wasn't long before Daphne told me my session was over.

"You should wear your hearing aids next time. Might help you get more used to them."

I shrugged again, shaving the case into my pocket. Tyler wouldn't be happy when he saw that I didn't have my hearing aids in. He'd tell me I was only making it harder by avoiding it. I suppose he isn't wrong, but still, sometimes avoiding pain is the only way to deal with it. And this was a very avoidable pain.

Tyler stood up when he saw us walk in. He and Daphne shared a smile, and started talking. I tried to read their lips, but they talked too fast for me to keep up. It had been an increasingly frustrating battle the last few months to get my family to remember my new limits and challenges when it came to communication. They keep forgetting that when they call my name, I can't hear them, and conversation in any way besides sign and writing it down, are virtually impossible for me. None of them did it on purpose, but it was taking all of them a lot longer to adjust to my new condition than it did for me.

I yanked on Tylers sleeve, making him look down at me. "Can you sign please? I want to know what you're saying." I signed quickly. Tyler turned back to Daphne and said something else, before thankfully, signing the rest of whatever he was saying. "I was just telling Daphne about our plans for Christmas. Sorry Izzy." He signed clumsily. Tyler had been trying really hard to learn sign for me. He wasn't very good, and still prefered writing things down, but it was the thought that counts. He was trying. And I could never be mad at him for that.

"You're going skiing! How fun is that!" Daphne was very good at signing. She was hard of hearing, so she understood a lot better than most people do.

I smiled softly. "I'm excited," I responded truthfully.

"You ever been skiing?"

I shook my head at her. "Not a lot of snow in Georgia."

She laughed a little and looked back at Tyler. "Do either of you have any questions about our session today or future sessions?" Me and my brother shook our heads quickly, and the therapist smiled. "Good. I'll see you both in a few weeks."

We said our goodbyes and walked out into the cold December morning. Tyler immediately grabbed my hand, and pulled me close to him. My brothers have become increasing protective since I left the hospital. It was like they thought I would shatter into a million pieces if they didn't keep me by their sides. I guess I had. I felt like I was shattered. Even now, almost three months after the accident, I still felt like my soul was in a million sharp little pieces. Slicing up my aching heart, and reminding me with each breath that I was still alive. I was still here. And in pain. I never stopped being in pain, even if my concussion got better, and the cuts healed.