Saving Justice

Chapter Six

"You did great with getting her examined and tested beforehand, Venice," Dra. Olsen commends me for taking the initiative while going through Justice's results. "This is very convenient."

"It's the least I could do, doc," I tell her because she should be going home by now, but she extends her time to accommodate Justice and fit her into her schedule.

"Okay, then..." She brings the papers down, then looks at Justice skeptically. "Let's start."

As I deduced earlier, Justice is confirmed to be diagnosed with depression and post-traumatic stress disorder. According to her lab tests and physical exams, her disorders are not related to her physical condition. There's no existing injury from the accident last year, but going through that near-death experience caused her to have the trauma. In addition, she's also depressed from losing her family.

"Venice, I need to prescribe her an SSRI," Dra. Olsen tells me directly while writing down her prescribed antidepressant. "She needs to take it once a day, at the same time. She can drink it in the morning or evening. It's up to you."

"Just to make sure, Dra. Olsen, she can drink it without eating, right?"

She nods. "Yes, she can," she answers and then turns to Justice. "Justice, you might experience side effects like mood swings, headache, weariness, and changes in sleep schedule, but that's normal. Anyway, I only give you a lower dose of Citalopram to reduce any possible side effects. It may also take 1 to 4 weeks before it'll take effect. Usually, you need to drink it for several weeks to get the full benefit."

I already know these things, but I still mentally note down all the reminders she's giving Justice. I don't want to miss something, especially because Justice seems to be out of her mind right now. She's just playing with her wristwatch and not actually paying attention to Dra. Olsen's advice and reminders.

"If ever it's not taking effect, I can increase the dosage of your antidepressant or prescribe another SSRI," she continues. "Also, please don't forget to drink it every day. If you stop drinking it without my advice, your condition may get worse."

Nodding my head, I already pledge to help Justice drink her meds religiously. It's really good that I decided to live under the same roof. I'd be able to keep a closer eye on Justice while she's undergoing medication and therapy.

"By the way, Venice..." Now, Dra. Olsen looks at me. "She also needs psychotherapy. You already know what to do, right?"

"Yes, Doc," I say with confidence. "We'll have our session once a week, and then I'll bring her back here for her second appointment next month."

"That's right." Dra. Olsen laughs a bit and faces Justice again. "Justice, don't worry, dear, you're in good hands with Venice. She's a skilled therapist."

I avert my eyes to Justice, who's now looking at me. I smile to give her assurance. She might be feeling even more in despair because of her condition, but I want to reassure her that she'll be fine.

In return, she also smiles back at me. Though her smile is short-lived, it brings me hope.

•••

Home from our visit to the Psychiatrist and done with eating dinner, I kept myself busy by planning out Justice's schedule for weekly therapies and daily medicine intake. As I had planned, she'd drink the prescribed antidepressant every eight in the evening after eating dinner. She already took one earlier as a start.

I think drinking the meds at night can help her more. When we're alone in bed, that's when usually those demons ― disguised as troubling thoughts ― creep into our heads. They will sit there for as long as possible and eventually fill our heads with darkness until we're bound to see no more light.

My eyes are closed, and I'm diving deeper into the abyss of thoughts. But then I feel a warm embrace pulling me ashore.

"Aren't you tired yet?"

I open my eyes and find my lifesaver locking me in his arms. His chin is resting comfortably on my shoulder with his eyes closed. I turn my face to his side, and the tip of my nose touches his cheek.

"I'm just writing down Justice's schedule of therapy," I tell him. "It's not tiring. This is how my work usually goes."

He opens his eyes a bit and looks briefly at the schedule I've written on my planner.

"But you should be tired." He tightens his embrace. "It's past ten, and we still have to wake up early tomorrow."

Oh, right...

We have a meeting with Emily tomorrow for the second appointment. We squeezed it into our weekday schedule because Cole will be gone for three weeks. He's not available on Saturday, and he'll be flying to San Francisco this Sunday to supervise the construction since it's already on its final phase, the completion phase. We can't delay the preparations for the wedding because there are only five months left. We don't want to cram since we have a lot to prepare.

Cole is excited to be able to take part in the preparations finally. We have already agreed that we will hold our wedding in Starved Rock. I'm actually surprised that he likes the wedding I have in mind. Or maybe, he's just really feeling relieved that it's not a beach wedding like what I joked about.

I know other people who dream of having a beach wedding might find us weird, but we don't like them. It's not on my bucket list and neither on his.

"Okay, okay..." I smile and playfully push his face away from mine. "I'm done anyway," I say, close the planner, and stand up.

Cole looks so happy because he successfully lures me into bed.

How can I even say no to him?

•••

Like Cole, I'm also a light sleeper, but I'm much more sensitive than him. I wake up to the same creaking sound of the floorboard I heard the other night. It's like someone's walking with heavy steps inside the room. I stir from my sleep and open my eyes to look at Cole to see if he's awake and the one creating the noise. However, he is fast asleep and not even bothered by the creepy sound of the floorboard.

I turn to the door, and I get goosebumps all over my body when I see it open. The chills seep through my bones, feeling haunted. It doesn't help that the room is obscure from lack of light.

What. The. f**k?

Didn't Cole lock the door earlier? I'm pretty sure he did! He always does!

I'm about to wake Cole up when I feel someone move closer to my side of the bed. Due to my sensitive reflexes, I quickly turn my head on that side. Just like a déjà vu, my heart leaps out of my chest when I see Justice staring down at me with her messy hair all over her face.

Good Lord...

Calming my nerves down from the fear, I put my hand against my chest and breathe deeply.

"Justice..." I say in a whisper, careful not to wake Cole from his sleep after my heart finally settled down a bit. "What's wrong?"

"I can't sleep..." she whispers back in a hoarse voice.

I slowly sit up on the bed and reach for my phone on the lamp desk. It's already past one. Justice should be sleeping by now. She still has classes later, at eight in the morning. But her insomnia must be acting up; that's why she can't sleep.

"Do you want me to accompany you to your room?" I ask her quietly.

With her lips protruding, she nods.

I nod back, and we head back to her room together. Since her room is well lit, my eyes need a few seconds to adjust from the sudden brightness before I can see clearly.

It's my first time entering her room. There were not many changes when I used this room to stay overnight. The most notable difference I can point out is the bedsheet set―from plain white covers to pale lilac with printed cherry blossom art; it looks girly now.

"Do you always sleep with the lights open?" I ask her as she slips under the covers.

"I can't sleep with the lights turned off..." she says, her voice sounding faint. "I... I don't like it."

"Since when?"

"Since..." She breathes heavily, hesitating to continue. "Since my parents died..."

"So before that, you used to sleep with the lights off?"

She nods and covers her body with the blanket up to her chin.

She must be feeling scared alone without the lights. But it must also be the reason why she's having trouble sleeping — not just the lights but also the room. It's been only almost two months since she moved here from another relative's house. This is not what she's really accustomed to.

"I think you should start sleeping again with the lights off," I suggest because she needs to start facing one of her little fears before moving on to the major one. She needs to heal in baby steps. This can also be a part of her therapy.

Justice starts shaking her head in fear. "No..." she says. "I don't think I can..."

I immediately walk over to her bed, sit there, and hold her hand. She's trembling big time. "Don't worry. I'll be right beside you..." I won't pressure her too much. Like I said, 'baby steps.'

Maybe I should do this until she's finally ready to sleep alone without the lights. It's a good thing that Cole's flying to San Francisco, even though I'll miss him for being away that long. I can stay with her during these upcoming nights without my fiancé.

"Is that okay with you, Justice?" I ask for her opinion.

The way she's biting her lips, I know she's having a hard time considering my suggestion.

"This is one step to your healing," I tell her, trying to persuade her more. "It'll be fine, Justice. I'm with you tonight."

Her chest and shoulders rise conspicuously to take a deep breath. And then she faces me, looking so determined. "Okay."

That one word makes me smile. I admire Justice's courage.

From what I've experienced and heard from my colleagues, it's more complicated if your client doesn't want to cooperate with you. Even if you dedicate yourself to helping them and opening the doors, everything will be useless if they don't want to heal.

But Justice seems so eager to heal by taking up these challenges. I can tell that she really wants to move on. She wants to escape that past, and I have to guide her to find the escape route she needs to take to be set free.

"Okay..." I say, still smiling. "I'll turn off the lights now."

I let go of her hand to turn off the switch and go back to bed. As I promised, I'll stay with her tonight.

•••

Cole and I are on our way to the café to meet Emily. I can't stop laughing. He keeps reenacting his reaction when he woke up earlier without a trace of me on his bed, in his room, bathroom, the living room, and the kitchen. He looked so frustrated while talking to his mother in the kitchen when I arrived to eat breakfast.

He immediately hugged me so tight and asked where I went. When I told him that I accompanied Justice to sleep, he just sighed.

Now, Cole still looks a bit pissed off, while I can't even stop myself from laughing.

He looks so adorable, that's why.

"By the way, why did you end up in her room?" he suddenly asks, his eyes are on the road. "You fell asleep a few minutes earlier than me."

I lean my back on the backrest, remembering how creepy I felt last night. "I woke up in the middle of sleeping because I heard a creaking sound of the floorboard. I thought it was a burglar or something. I'm actually surprised that it didn't wake you up."

He shrugs his shoulders. "I guess I was deeply asleep."

"I guess you are," I second that.

"But what happened next?" he asks for a follow-up on the story. "You checked outside the room and saw Justice walking back and forth?"

Shaking my head, I say, "Nope." I play with his right hand on my lap. "She came inside our room. I was actually scared for a while when I saw her standing beside me. I thought it was someone else."

I even laugh a bit, remembering how scared I was of the disturbing sound. It happened for the second time already.

"She went inside our room? How?"

"Hmm..." Why is he asking such a question with an obvious answer? "Maybe by opening the door and walking in?"

"Huh?" Now, he sounds lost and confused. "But I locked the doors before I turned off the lights and went to bed with you."

I stop playing with his fingers. It's like my heart stops beating for a second there. My forehead creases and I look up to Cole, whose brows furrow.

"You did?"

He glances at me and nods his head. "I did."

Biting my lip, I can feel my heart starts to run for miles. He must be wrong. Because if he did lock the door, Justice wouldn't be able to enter our room.

"Maybe you thought you did, but you didn't," I convince him, but to be honest, I'm also trying to convince myself. "It sometimes happens to me as well."

Really, Venice?

"Hmm... I guess you're right," he says. "Maybe I didn't."