I walked into the deserted house, really taking in the damage for the first time. I’d finally been allowed in to try and salvage anything that hadn’t been destroyed, after the fire rescue team had secured the property. Somewhere among the rubble and ruins that had once been a loving family home was my family – my mum, dad and younger sister. All that remained of them now was a charred heap of ashes…at least that’s what I’d been told. As I gently stepped over the remains of the dinner table, I saw a badly burned hand poking out from under the rubble. I screamed and jumped back as the realisation hit me. It was a small hand, too small to belong to either of my parents. I ran out of the house and into the street, where I threw up until I was sure the next thing that came up would be part of me.

The fire had swept through the house, engulfing everything in flames. I’d lost everything and everyone I’d ever loved. They hadn’t stood a chance. I couldn’t understand why this had happened to me. I was never a trouble maker, I did as I was told, so why had this happened to my family? I suppose that’s what first led me here…sitting in a shrink’s office. I’m not mad, I just need help. I couldn’t – can’t – deal with everything that’s happened. It was that first realised something was wrong. I’d gone from being a happy, outgoing girl to being withdrawn and jumpy. I couldn’t sleep at night, every time I closed my eyes, all I could see was that hand. He never found out that that’s what made me the way I am…he didn’t know I’d seen my dead sisters hand. It was as if she was reaching out to me, begging me to save her. I was too late though. I was always too late. At first, I wouldn’t admit there was something wrong with me and that I needed to talk to someone. I thought that bottling it up was the best way of dealing with it. It wasn’t until I’d sat down and talked through things with that I realised exactly how much this was all affecting me. That’s when I agreed to go and see a psychiatrist.

The first few sessions didn’t go quite according to plan. I didn’t like being asked about my life, and that’s what psychiatrists do. They pry into your life to find out exactly what’s making you think and feel the way you do.

*Flashback*

“So, Miss , I hear that you’ve not been yourself lately.” “My entire family is dead. What the fuck do you expect me to be like…perhaps I should throw a bloody party and get people to dance on their graves.” “Right…you seem to have some unresolved issues about their deaths. How would you describe your relationship with them?” “It was a normal family, with the normal arguments. I loved them, but sometimes I lost it with .” “And would be your younger sister?” “Nah, it’s my older brother… of course it’s my fucking sister.” “And back at the house, the day after the fire, you saw her hand. How did that make you feel?” I rolled my eyes and sighed heavily. Who was this man? Did he honestly think asking questions about what I’d seen was going to make me feel better? “It made me feel sick to the stomach. I went outside and I threw up. I was in danger of over flooding the fricking town with my sick.” “And did you have anyone to help you through it afterwards?” “Well, my entire family was dead. What do you think?” “So you haven’t had a chance to talk this through with anyone before?” “What is with the fucking questions? You’re supposed to make me better, not make me worse.” I’d had just about enough. I didn’t care that the hour wasn’t up, I wanted to get out of here. I could feel that familiar nausea rising in my throat, and I ran out, not wanting to seem weak.

*End of Flashback*

Do you ever wanna run away?
Do you lock yourself in your room?
With the radio on turned up so loud
That no one hears you screaming

Since then, things have been better. I realised that he only wanted to help, and asking questions was his way of doing that. By making me talk about what I’d seen and what I’d been through, he was helping me come to terms with it. I feel much happier now, I wouldn’t say things are back to the way they used to be, but they’re definitely getting there. Me and got together last year, and we’re still happy. I love him so much, he’s helped me through the worst thing I’ve ever been through, and he’s been by my side the whole time.