Solution Focused Brief Therapy

Kylie hesitated outside the moonlit park entrance and trembled. The familiar wrought-iron gates gaped wide open. Every night for the past ten years she'd suffered nightmares about stepping through this portal into Hell. Yet, here she stood on the anniversary of her ordeal. Why did it have to be this night?

The doctor's words echoed in her mind. Don't dwell on the past, Kylie. Think about the future. Where do you want to be? Squash your fears and move on. How could she refuse that authoritative, feminine voice?

She stepped through, brushed a lock of black hair from her eyes, and scanned the path that meandered past shadowy flowerbeds toward the playground. Kylie had been a child—only fifteen. Oh, she had believed herself a fully mature adult. She thought she knew it all. Then she met Him, and he taught her otherwise. His fun and games lasted maybe half-an-hour, but for her it had felt like a thousand years.

Attempting to banish those dark memories, she edged forward. Gravel crunched underfoot. Valentine's Day. She chuckled. What better day to have lost her virginity? Her giggles transformed into sobs, and she dropped to her knees. Her bare skin pressed into the sharp stones.

Get hold of yourself, demanded that voice in her mind.

Kylie wiped her nose and stood. The doctor wouldn't brook any nonsense. She brushed down her mini-dress, ensuring it hugged her curves. The doctor had told her not to be ashamed of her petite frame because she was beautiful, but Kylie doubted she really meant that.

Composing herself, she continued. Ahead, she spied monkey bars, slide and swings, all surrounded by a border of hawthorn bushes. An icy chill slithered down her spine.

“Meet me by the swings,” her boyfriend had said. “It'll be romantic.”

Of course, she believed every word. Danny loved her; he wouldn't lie. He was two years older and an archetypal bad boy: ripped jeans and bad attitude. Danny could have been their high school football team captain if he hadn't spent every evening inhaling smoke that dimmed his brain cells and diminished his potential. He made Kylie laugh, and she loved him for it. She wanted him to be her first, and she wanted it to be oh so sweet. Her plans were perfect.

So that Valentine's Day night she had waited. And she waited some more. Even in Louisiana, after midnight the temperature drops. The bitter cold seeped into her bones, and her exposed legs beneath her mini-skirt sprouted more goosebumps than her face had teenage acne. Finally, someone came, but not Danny. Later, she'd heard that Danny was at Amber's house, making out with her on the couch. He'd completely forgotten his plans with Kylie. Never again would she believe a word from any boy's lips.

Forcing her mind to focus on the present, Kylie looked around. Not one piece of equipment had been replaced or moved since that night. Even Hurricane Katrina hadn't changed this place. She froze and swallowed. Twenty more feet, and she'd be at the swing, but she found herself unable to force her legs to take another step. She pictured that demon hidden in the bushes or behind a tree. He could be watching, planning his move, waiting for the right moment to pounce.

Close your eyes and go to your happy place. She closed her eyes. In spite of the ice in her stomach, she smiled. Ironically, whenever the doctor ordered her to do this, Kylie was already in her happy place, lying on that soft, leather couch with the scent of Chanel No. 5 in the air and a harmonic voice in her ears. Where do you want to be? The doctor had ordered her to come here, to face her fears. She'd insisted it was safe. The doctor would never deceive her. She wasn't a man.

Kylie opened her eyes, and the moonlit playground reappeared. From a distance, the equipment appeared perfect. It wasn't. She knew every link in the chains tethering those plastic seats to the iron frame above. Up close, that frame was rusty, and the swing creaked like doors in teen horror movies. But she wasn't a teenager anymore; she knew monsters were real, and one might be stalking her from the shadows.

She'd seen the news reports; he'd been released. Although the judge in her case recommended he never be set free, some twisted human rights lawyer had successfully pleaded his case. Now he was back in her town, her neighborhood. He could be here tonight. Media reports said he'd been arrested a dozen times before he attacked her, every time for an alleged assault on a woman in this park at night. This was his playground, his hunting ground, and the night was for hunting.

Again, she closed her eyes and focused on her happy place. Where do you want to be? The doctor had patiently explained that if she wanted to move on then she had to conquer her fears. She suggested midnight tonight because of its significance in her case. You'll be perfectly safe, I promise. Kylie opened her eyes and strode forward with renewed faith. Before her fear had time to reappear, she was sitting in the very same swing where she'd sat ten years and a million nightmares before.

As she rocked to and fro, it creaked the same old creak. The chill air raised hairs along her calves. The doctor had asked her to shave her legs. Even though Kylie normally did anything the doctor ordered without hesitation, she couldn't do that. At the thought of a cold blade touching her bare skin, she quivered. The doctor also suggested she wear makeup to look pretty. Only she could be so preposterous as to suggest Kylie could look pretty. Even though it was pointless, she'd applied a little lipstick and mascara. She always tried to please the doctor.

A nearby bush shook, and Kylie gripped the edge of her swing. He was here. He was here. He was here! Her breath caught. Her stomach churned.

A small, shadowy creature slid from under the bush and trotted closer, transforming into a cat.

She released her pent up breath. Of course it wasn't him. The doctor said she'd be safe. Kylie trusted her with her life. She glowered at the feline fiend.

The cat arched its back and hissed as if to say, “Whatcha doing in my seat?” Then it stuck its proud nose in the air, turned its back on her and slunk into the darkness.

She slumped into the swing seat, her pulse yet racing. What on earth had possessed her to think she could do this? The doctor shouldn't have asked her to do something so impossible. She stood. If she sprinted, she could reach the gates in a minute. She could be home in ten.

“Hello, Kylie,” said a gravelly voice from behind.

She shrieked. Warmth spread across her crotch and trickled down her inner thighs. Bile rose in her throat. It was him. It was him. It was him!

He circled her, stepping as gracefully as the cat and just as predatory. Producing a butterfly knife, his weapon of choice, he twirled it theatrically. She hadn't set eyes on him since the trial. He loomed over her, six feet tall with shoulders like a marine's. Since she last saw him across a courtroom, his short hair had receded and he'd grown a beard. He grinned, displaying his crooked teeth. They hadn't changed one bit.

She screamed and spun around to flee.

He shot over and grabbed her, then slapped her face. Her head snapped back. The iron tang of blood invaded her mouth.

He clamped his calloused hand across her mouth. “Shut up!”

His breath stank of whiskey, his body of piss. He pushed her down onto the sharp gravel and straddled her stomach. His weight squashed her tiny frame, and the air whooshed from her lungs.

“One more sound and I'll cut your eyes out. But don't worry.” He snickered and placed his hand on her crotch. “You'll still get what's coming to you.”

The strength leached from her arms and legs. She remembered struggling last time. She remembered it was wasted effort. She remembered how it only added to her agony. She would die here tonight. How could the doctor have led her to this?

“That's better.” He smirked and squeezed her breasts. “You came back—you must have really enjoyed your first time.” He bent close and ran his tongue across her lips.

She whimpered and instinctively clamped her thighs together. What remained of rational thought argued that was pointless. This beast would enjoy it even more if he had to work for it.

He licked his lips and reached down between her legs, then forced his rough fingers between her thighs, prying them apart. She gagged. It wouldn't be quick. He would toy with her: bite her nipples and burn her with cigarettes before moving on to the activities more normal men enjoyed. When he was sated, he'd strangle her; leave her for dead. That's what happened last time. Maybe this time he'd use the knife. She hoped this time she did die. She couldn't face another ten years of torment.

A bang shattered the silence. His bloodshot eyes widened. Blood spewed from his mouth and spilled into her cleavage, wet and warm. A second shot echoed across the park, and a quarter of his head disappeared in spray. He collapsed, his limp body trapping her legs.

She shook like a mouse in an eagle's claw. A shadowy figure sprang from the bushes and ran over. Kylie sobbed in relief. The doctor was here, as promised, dressed in black with a revolver in her hand. Those kind eyes locked onto Kylie, and the doctor's careworn but handsome middle-aged face wrinkled in concern. The doctor holstered her weapon, dragged the man off Kylie's legs, then helped her stand. She pulled Kylie into a welcome embrace, and the scent of Chanel No. 5 whisked her away to a happier place.

“You did good, Kylie. I'm proud of you.” She stepped back and held Kylie at arm's length. “How do you feel?”

She blinked. “I-I don't know…” She glanced at the immobile man. “He's really dead?”

The doctor nudged the corpse with her foot then nodded. “There's only one cure for a rabid dog.”

Kylie shook her head in disbelief. “It worked just like you said it would.”

“He was an addict, and he needed a fix. This is his usual haunt.” She looked Kylie up and down. “And who could resist you?”

Her cheeks burned, and she glanced away. She wished the doctor wouldn't joke like that; it hurt.

The doctor lifted Kylie's chin with one finger. “If you want respect from others, you must respect yourself.”

“How, Doctor? I'm nothing special.”

The doctor sighed. “To begin with, you can call me Anne like I've told you to.”

How could she ever address the doctor by her name? She was her goddess, her savior, her everything.

“You're worth loving,” said the doctor. “I've searched my whole life for a soul as pure as yours. Don't you want to be loved?” She gripped Kylie's shoulders. “Please. Say, 'Yes, Anne.'”

She took a calming breath. She did want that. “Yes… Anne.”

Anne beamed, and that expression of joy sent confused butterflies fluttering around Kylie's stomach.

“Kylie, where do you want to be?”

She bit her lip. She knew exactly where she wanted to be, but she was undeserving.

Anne stroked her cheek. “Kylie, speak to me.”

Her skin tingled at the touch of that divine hand. Oh, she wanted her so much. She reached up and tentatively pulled the older woman's face closer, then pressed her lips against Anne's. She tasted of cherry ChapStick and mint with a hint of cigarettes. She tasted better than Kylie had imagined possible. She tasted like home.


WORD COUNT: 2000
WRITTEN FOR:

SURVEY

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