"And then what happens?" My therapist, Dr. Daffin asks me in her office when I'm sitting on the leather couch.

  "And then I wake up, just like I always did," I respond as she grabs her notepad and starts writing.

  "Well, as I told you before, the nightmare is an associated form of reliving the real experience. It's to be expected."

  I stare down at my knotted fingers before I answer. "I know. I just... They weren't so strong and felt so... real. I can't believe they keep recurring every night."

  "Sussianna, it's going to take more than three years. You're doing amazingly well. Think of your dreams only as a phantom to you now." She pauses. "I know what happened to your parents is the most tragic experience you are going through, it's going to take time, but try to change the ending. Once you awake imagine something different and also write. Remember what I told you to write in your notebook?" She asks.

  I glance up at her and nod.

  "Sometimes writing does help, however, remember that dreams cannot hurt you."

  "I just thought they would eventually stop," I frown and she gazes at me with compassion.

  "Psychological trauma often heightens during times of transition. And you don't need me to tell you that your life is changing," she smiles. "College is coming to an end, then going into the workforce. The uncertainty that comes with being an adult."

  I smile, too, weakly.

  "The memories of that night will come and go, and fade with time, but you will never forget it," Her face becomes serious. "I am going to prescribe you some medication to help you get some rest... I know Sadie helps, but this will also help you," she says as she writes a prescription in her notepad and then hands it to me.

  "Did you have anything else you want to talk about, Sussianna?" Dr. Daffin asks and looks worried.

  "I've met someone," I blurt as I start to blush.

  She smiles. "Someone special?"

  "You could say that."

  "How long have you known him?"

  I flush. "Not that long."

  "Is it serious?" She asks with an arched brow.

  "Yeah, it is."

  "What's his name?"

  "Christopher, but he prefers to be called Chris."

  "Does Chris treat you well?"

  I frown and she raises both eyebrows.

  "Y-yeah," I stumble.

  "You hesitated. What's troubling you? Does he hurt you?" She asks, and her concern is obvious.

  I shake my head. "It's not that... I don't know," I sigh, and then my subconscious rings in my head saying, yes, he has pendeja (stupid) not physically but emotionally. Why don't you listen to me? And I am screaming at her to shut up.

  "It seems like he's keeping secrets from me," I finally say.

  "What kind of secrets do you feel he's keeping from you?"

  I blink at her. "It's hard to explain," I answer, my voice soft and hesitant.

  "Enlighten me," Dr. Daffin says as she smiles kindly.

  I take a deep breath. "Part of me feels like he's hiding who he really is." I feel like telling her he's into the BDSM sex life, but I decide against it. I would be too embarrassed talking about that, it's too intimate.

  Her mouth presses into a hard line. "Have you confronted him about it?"

  "Yeah, well tried to, but he always changes the subject or he distracts me," I blush. "He's not very communicative," I shrug.

  "Well, you can never force someone to open up to you. I have known you for a few years, and at first, it took you a while to communicate with me...  But secrets in a relationship are never a good sign. I should know, my latest husband cheated on me with his secretary. If I had never put a camera in his office I wouldn't have found out."

  "I'm sorry," I frown.

  "It was a long time ago, but my point is to not keep secrets from each other. I know this is a hard subject to bring up, but did you tell Chris about your parents?"

  I stare down at my fingers again. "Yes, however, I didn't tell him the whole story. I just told him they were in an accident."

  "It's up to you if you want to tell him the entire story... Have you told him about your dreams?"

  "He knows I have nightmares," I shrug.

  "And what does he do when you have a nightmare?" She asks as she cocks her head to the side.

  "He comforts me," I say simply. The image of him holding me tight in his arms and rocking me back and forth last night makes me smile.

  "Sounds like a good man."

  I glimpse up to meet her brown gaze. "He can be."

  "Hmm, does he know that you come to visit me once a week?"

  "He knows that I have an appointment, but not about seeing a therapist."

   She frowns. "In order for him to open up to you, you also need to let him in and not keep things hidden. Communication is the key to having a healthy relationship, remember that. Plus, if he truly loves you, he'll eventually open up."

  Love? Chris hasn't even said he loves me... yet. Does he love me? Do I love him? I know I think fondly of Chris and I want to be with him, but love is such a strong word.

  "Are there any more questions you would like to discuss while you're here?" Dr. Daffin asks with a smile.

  I smile back when I shake my head.

  She stands up as she grabs my hand and leads me to the door. "So, tell me, are you still going to New York?" She asks to brighten up the mood.

  I flush. New York reminds me of what Chris kept asking. "Y-yeah, well, I hope so once I graduate."

  "Let me know when you're going, so that way I can assign you to my friend, Dr. Cromwell. She works in New York, and I would want you to keep up with your therapy. She's good at what she does and she'll take good care of you."

  "I will," I smile. "See you next week Dr. Daffin," I say as I walk out.

  I leave Dr. Daffin's office and close the glass door behind me. I smile as I notice the red mustang waiting by the curb and knew immediately it was Christine. However, I realize there is another car next to hers- a tinted black SUV, although, I didn't think anything of it.

  "Hey! Are you ready to go shopping?" She exclaims, staring at me as I get inside her car.

  "Of course," I say and as soon as the engine starts, my ears are invaded by Lovelytheband Broken. I smile to myself. I don't know why this song reminds me of Chris.

  Christine pulls out into the traffic and we both hum along to Broken as we head toward commonwealth avenue. At that moment, the second song The Cranberries Dreams filters out of her sound system and we continue to sing along to the music. We literally sing to every song on the radio like some teenage girls. I've sung in front of Chris and I remember I was turning red, but I don't feel embarrassed singing with Christine.

  I gaze out the windows at the white clouds and then I direct my eyes to the buildings, their tall shadows stretching across the road. Christine turns into a more commercial shared street, heading east.

  "Where are we going?" I ask as we turn into a road.

  "It's a surprise," she smiles.

  A few minutes later, Christine turns sharply right and then parks her car by a place called L'elite Occasions Boutique.

  "We're here!" She squeals and I'm baffled.

  As I get out of the car, I turn my head and recognize the same SUV has followed us. Two men dressed in black suits emerge from the SUV and walk behind us as we head inside.

  "Who are they?" I ask as I stare at the men.

  She looks my way. "Oh, they're my bodyguards... For security... Sorry, I forgot to tell you about them. I sometimes forget they follow me," she says apologetically. 

   As soon as we step over the threshold, we are greeted by a shop assistant. She kisses Christine on both cheeks, saying in French, "Cherie, c'est si bon de te voir. (Darling, it's so good to see you.)"

  The woman has dark brown hair, a sincere smile, and a black blazer dress with a long sleeve jacket to match. Gosh, I should have worn better clothing than just these old jeans and this worn-out white shirt. Unfortunately, Christine dropped me off at my house and I had to hurry to change into some type of outfit since I was running late. Christine insisted I should have borrowed her clothes or re-worn my party outfit, but I didn't want to intrude or wear clothes that show off too much skin. However, I am regretting it and I should have listened to her.

  The lady turns her attention to me and I quickly say, "Je suis Sussianna. (I'm Sussianna.)"

  Her eyes widen in surprise. "Tu parles francais? (You speak french?)"

  "Oui. (Yes.)" 

   Her eyes shift up and down my body, and I know she's staring at me with disapproval because of the clothes I'm wearing. I flush.

  "My name is Julia. And I'll be your personal shopper for both of you," she says in English as she escorts us to the dressing room and I glance to see Christine's security team staying outside the waiting room.

   As she walks us inside the dressing room, the first thing I notice is a velvet red small swivel armchair by the corner. The room is long and rectangular with heavy golden and silk curtains separating shoppers from the hallway. The space is covered by three-sided mirrors, in an attempt to make it look larger and allow customers to see apparel from various angles.

   Julia hands us dozens of dresses, Christine and I grab each of them and hang them on the clothing rack. Once Julia gives us all the attire, she closes the curtains and we are left alone.

   Christine begins looking through the clothes rack, her polished fingernails trailing along each gown to see what she liked. She picks a red satin dress with a stunning deep v-neckline, off-shoulder sleeves, and a side slit with a mermaid train.

  She starts to slip off her white casual floral dress, and I turn away, looking at myself in the mirror with my hair sticking up from both sides of my ponytail.

  Why didn't Christine tell me we were coming to a fancy store? Plus, why does she have bodyguards? Is she someone important to need security? Then I remember what Chris told me- his grandfather insisted he needed a bodyguard for his protection, but he didn't want one. In spite of that, his sister has those bodyguards for her protection. For what? I have no clue, but I'm going to find out one way or another.

  "What do you do for a living?" I ask curiously as I gaze through the clothing rack, pretending to search for a dress.

  I peek up and notice her body stiffens, but she quickly recomposes herself. "Chris never mentioned what I did?"

  "No... He's not very talkative," I answer with a sigh. He doesn't talk much, especially when it's about his family, but I decide to keep that to myself.

  "Hmm, that sounds like my brother. Ever since he was little, he always kept things to himself," she frowns and her voice sounds deeply hurt. "But anyway, I'm in the family business. Buying and selling items."

  "Like buildings?" I ask as I tilt my head to the side.

  "Yeah, something like that, and other things," she shrugs as she zips up the dress and gawks at how nicely the dress fits her curves. She walks back to the clothes rack, seeking another dress. "Oh, this should fit you," she says as she pulls out an incredibly detailed beaded strapless corset gown, layered tulle a-line skirt with a slit, and is made with baby blue fabric.

  Why does she change the subject like her brother?

  "I don't know," I say while frowning. Dresses are not my thing, anyway, I don't need a fancy dress since I barely go anywhere.

  "Just try it on, Sussianna. Besides you're going to need some type of gown for the Christmas ball."

  I stare at her, my eyes widen with confusion. "What?"

  "Wait, he didn't tell you, did he?"

  I shake my head.

  "I figured my stupid brother wouldn't have told you. He's very forgetful but he shouldn't, considering the ball is going to be at grandfather's h... I mean Chris's house."

  I glimpse at the price tag for just a split second and catch sight of how much it is. $3,326! Sweet geez! "I can't afford it," I frown

  She shrugs. "Who says you were paying for it?"

  "No way!" I squeak as I hold my hands up in the air, protesting against her. I can't let her pay that much money for me.

  "Oh come on Sussianna! I brought you here and I want to pay for it, besides you have to come. The whole family is going to be there and you have to meet them."

  Meeting Chris's family? Whoa, that's such a big step.

  "I don't think it's a good idea." I mean if Chris wanted me to go, he would have told me himself.

  "But you have to come! It could be fun, and plus I'm inviting you, so you'll be my guest... Please, please, please Sussianna," she whimpers as she stares at me with pleading eyes, and her lips trembling at the corners. Her expression is heartbreaking.

   I cave in. "Fine, I'll go. But only for you," I groan. I'm too much of a softie to never say no.

  "Yeah! You won't regret it!" She says as she hugs me.

  I take off my clothes, and she helps me into the dress. My fingers graze over the beads and the fabric fits my body perfectly which shows off my curves, and then I look up at my breasts. I roll my eyes. Damn, my breasts always show more than what is needed.

   Christine grabs my bare shoulders. "See I knew this would look beautiful on you. Do you want this one?"

 I start to unfasten and remove the dress. "Yes, but I'm paying for it," I inform her as I put back on my hideous clothes.

  I'll just have to see if they do payment plans here because I don't have that much money in my bank account, but my subconscious of course chimes in saying, you barely have enough to pay your bills for this month. I'm serious if she actually existed, I would slap her and tell her to fuck off.

  Christine rolls her eyes with a disgusted snort, calls Julia back in, and informs her to put the red and blue dress on her account.

  "I said I was going to pay for the dress, Christine," I groan. Yeah, with what money? My subconscious snarls, and I'm screaming at her to get out of my head.

  "Sussianna stop. I got this, besides they always put it on my charge account," she says like it's no big deal.

  I sigh in defeat, knowing she's just like her brother which are both hard to argue with and know how to get their way.