DISCLAIMER: This is a ‘Fictional’ Post.

Now, this post was originally inspired ‘The Daily Post‘ December 5th Prompt – Vanish. It was then going to be a part of the December 7th Prompt – Protest. But, I have altered it so that it could fit in with the December 10th Prompt – Abide. So enjoy! Xx

Photo Credit: Hernan Sanchez (Courtesy of

2:17PM: ‘This is a long post y’all!’

Great, in about six minutes, this ‘session?’ (I guess you could call it), will finally be over. 

I drew in a breath of relief.

How is it possible that after two weeks of these group sessions, that I still wasn’t able to talk about what had happened?

Well, I guess staring at the clock for the whole time can’t make it any easier for me to trust these people. Especially when they were meant to be helping me sort through my ‘grief’. 

I suppose I can’t complain because I’m not listening to them. I’m not really helping them out with their grief, so why should they be helping me? 

This situation took me back to my high school days, specifically, the days where I had to present a speech. I would always get nervous, so much so that I did what I am currently doing now.

Maybe that kind of behaviour could be understood back in High School, but I’m an adult now. And the fact that this habit is still integrated into my personality just proves that I haven’t changed much since then.

I’ll admit, as much as I could keep a watchful eye on the arms of the analogue clock. Praying that this would be over and go away, along with that tightening feeling that sat in the pit of my stomach… I knew that the inevitable would happen.

It would be my turn to speak.

Except, this time, there was no speech to guide me. There was nothing to calm my nerves, there was nothing to hide behind. The only thing that seemed to provide me with any form of relief now was the fact that in just a few minutes, I could go home and ignore it (Until next week that is…).

“Thank you for sharing your story, Jessie.” Said the guy who I believed was Chris? I can’t for the life of me remember.

“Gina, would you like to share your story now?” He turned and asked me.

“But, we only have four minutes left?! We should just pack up now!” I exclaimed.

“Or we could use those four minutes to hear about you, and what you’re going through.”

“But, isn’t there someone else that could go?”

“Nope, only you. We’ve heard from everyone else already.”

“You can’t force me to tell you anything! You don’t know anything about me or my life!” I yelled doubting it was any use.

“You’re not wrong there Gina. I can’t force you to tell your story. But I can persuade you to speak up. As the first step to resolving a problem is admitting it.” He remarked, saying it with such certainty.

“Now, you don’t have to talk to us Gina. But, you do need to talk to someone, anyone.”

“I’ll tell you what. If you promise me that if you leave here that you’ll get the help you need. We’ll pack up right now.” He propositioned.

“What if I lie to you, though?”

“Those lies will affect you more than they will me Gina.”

“But, I already feel so numb. What happened to my loved ones hurt, these lies… I don’t think that they will.” I continued to protest.

“And what exactly happened to them, Gina?”

“My family… we fought, he took them, I tried, and then… they died.” I said through sharp breaths. I decided to finally abide by Chris and this group.

But, what I didn’t tell them… or would ever tell them. Is that their deaths were always coming, before they even set foot in that car…


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