This writing prompt was given to me by Nomad76 when I needed the motivation to write-

With a special key, psychiatrists can unlock a person's mind to present a physical manifestation of the patient's darkest fears.

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She looked into the eyes of her new psychiatrist as she was instructed to. It was the tenth session of Sarah Smith, in this very room where the mint green walls looked freshly painted, hint of peeling paint? Nah, looked like it was straight out of those perfect movies that demonstrated the lives of riches. Posh stuff and all that.

Jean- her psychiatrist was blabbering about how Sara needs to open up. Her exact words were-

'We have already done nine sessions and we have still not started anywhere near what we are proposed to do here.'

Sarah had changed psychiatrist at least five times a year from the last four years. It did not help the case that even after being an adult her mother refused to let her daughter give up. No, she was determined to give her daughter a normal life.

She knew Sarah never got that after her junior year of high school. Everything changed in one single night. No one knew what happened that night. There were only two people in the house. Sarah and her father. All they know is in the morning when Sara's mother returned she could not stop the tears that started freely flowing, and who would not when they would see ashes instead of where their house stood.

Sarah hopefully survived but was the only one with no memories left of her dad. She remembers everything but just not him. The holidays they went together are still etched into her mind but there are only two people in those holidays - her mom and herself. No father. There are lots of blanks present. It is like her mind has blocked all the painful recollections and that includes her father.

"So Sarah dear, your file says you know nothing about your father," Jean's voice light as she placed her elbows on the mahogany table.

"You are correct Jean," Her psychiatrist insisted Sarah to use her first name. Sarah knew this tactic, they think it would make her comfortable and with them but what they do not know is that it doesn't fruitloopoling change anything. "But now I know how he looked."

"So, you remember his face? That's good."

Recovery

The unsaid word hung between them making the air tense.

"Nope," she responded, popping the p, "I know from pictures I have seen in the photo album." She looked at the painting hung on the wall. An artist could understand something but for her, it was just a splash of 'cheerful' colours.

"Are you sure? Look in my eyes! No gawking here and there, Sarah," She said in a Stern voice that left no room for any argument.

"Positive," By now she knew Jean was different than any psychiatrist she ever had the misfortune to encounter.

"There is a thin line between love and hate."

"I know, every cheesy novel has this line." dragged Sarah rolling her brown eyes.

Sarah could see a blurry figure of a toddler girl with pigtails asking someone, presumably her father about some tag line printed on the cover of a thick book.

"Lucky charms vs fruit loops, who would win?"

"Fruit loops, always."

"Which cereal do you want honey?" A masculine voice cried out, looking through cupboard situated above the kitchen counter."Do you even have to ask? Obviously fruit loops daddy" a girly voice yelled from somewhere.

"If you had a choice would you go to Disneyland or harry potter universe as a 12-year-old."

"Harry potter universal studio, I am never the one that loves sappy romance stories where a prince charming comes with a flying horse and 'You live happily ever after'."

"You want that poster of Cinderella, honey?" a lady asked.
"No mommy, I want that poster of batgirl" the same girl her brown hair spilling from her hairband answered now a little older probably around eleven years.

Jean could see the effects of cracks that have developed now through the barrier. If she could push her a little more over the edge, this session could end it all. Sara was Jean's last appointment for the day and Sara had a day off, thus they have time. The mind is powerful and complicated. It makes you believe what you want. Not reality.

With the first encounter with her, It was prominent to Jean that she had to select one day to break it all. Sara's personality could not handle the splitting of information. It has to be done in a single sitting.

"If I gave you a credit card for one day and you can spend as much as you want, but only on one thing. What would it be?"

"Buy a Wal-mart."

"What do you want for your birthday, dear?"
"A Walmart"
"Walmart?"
"Yes, the one that is near our house, not the one where granny lives,"

"Can you play any musical instruments?"

"Guitar,"

"Dad, why do you not play anymore?" The same girl holding a guitar asked in her teens asked.
"Sometimes Sarah, you have to choose between work and your interest," her dad answered.

"Which song did you use to play for Daniel Smith?"

"Jingle bells,"

"It is 11 at night and we have to catch a flight at 5 in the morning and we are listening to Jingle Bells in March." Dad laughed at his own joke.
"If we didn't, it wouldn't be us" I retorted slyly.
"That is my daughter," my dad responded to, smirking.

That was the last straw, Jean knew.

Suddenly everything was playing in front of Sarah.

When she was laughing while sitting on her dad playing daddy saddle.

When she forced her parents to go to the most expensive photographer to click their family photo.

When her mom wanted to take her to Disneyland but Sarah and dad wanted to watch the football match that was going to premiered live that day.

When her dad started teaching her how to play the guitar even though she could barely lift it. Her first song was Jingle Bells, since then she played it least once a day making her dad familiar with it as if it was his car.

Slowly, how that Guitar became her escape. How she would pour her every emotion at the end of the day into it like someone writes a diary at the end of the day she wrote with strings.

Everything came crashing down into her within moments. Earthquakes stay for few minutes and cause havoc to last years. She could feel overwhelming. The earthquake inside her was too much to bear. She could hear screams as if someone was in immense pain.

There was a lot of misery and agony and suddenly there was none. Only pure and raw darkness as felt herself closing up to the world around her. Only silence greeted her.

The last thought before she fainted was-

It was me who was screaming.

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Thank you for reading!

What do you think? I know Jean was harsh but this what she was specialized in doing.

But I apologise if it is cringy, I only know about psychology from here and there, but it always enthrals me. I have read a few books on how and works and it is so interesting I really enjoyed writing it!