Introduction
Su terapia una vez a la semana, es el lugar de refugio donde respirar no le cuesta tanto. Todo en su vida debe ser cuidadosamente planeado
Sin embargo, el cambio repentino de su Psiquiatra jubilado y el profesor más verdugo de la academia, que a resumidas cuentas resultan ser la misma persona, desequilibran su supuesta normalidad haciendo que ella saque a flote los rincones más oscuros que ha querido esconder desde hace mucho tiempo.
Xavier está convencido que nadie interrumpirá su rigurosa vida, de hecho, él es lo suficientemente cuidadoso como para que nadie esté a su lado por lo menos 24 horas seguidas. Es un hombre cerrado, dominante y muy controlador, entre eso, manipulador. Pero cuando Anaelise entra en su campo de visión, no solo sacará lo peor de él, ella romperá sus barreras y desatará el caos que él mantiene oculto.
Ellos son sombras, y estas, se unirán formando un caos interminable.
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About Author

Maria Pulido
Chapter 1
—Entonces… ¡Felicidades, Anaelise!
Ella alzó su mirada lentamente y observó sin ninguna expresión a Oliver Walsh. Su Psiquiatra desde que tenía 5 años. Había pasado mucho tiempo ya desde el primer día en que llegó a este sitio, Anaelise actualmente tenía 19 años, pero su alma parecía como de 80.
Ella sintió algo amargo en la boca al escuchar esas palabras, sabía lo que él intentaba hacer cada vez que ella venía a este lugar. Oliver no era su persona favorita, de hecho, no tenía una. Pero Walsh de cierto modo era el respiro que necesitaba una vez por semana.
—¿Por qué me felicita? —preguntó muy bajo.
Oliver pasó un trago. Eran muchos años estudiando a esa chica que estaba frente a él. De hecho, ahora mismo la consideraba parte de su vida. Anaelise tenía la misma edad que sus hijas, y leer su caso cada vez que estaba por entrar a su consultorio para atenderla, le partía el alma en mil pedazos.
«Ninguna niña merecía haber pasado por lo que ella pasó».
Así que suspiró teniendo la paciencia necesaria.
—Bueno… no muchos logran estar en esa facultad, Anaelise, de hecho, la carrera que escogiste es una de las más difíciles. Y lo digo por experiencia propia.
Él le asomó una sonrisa, pero no obtuvo una de vuelta.
Anaelise se removió en el asiento y luego asintió.
—De igual forma no es para que me felicite —dijo rápidamente—. Son 5 años los que me esperan, si paso ese obstáculo entonces… veremos.
Oliver arrugó el ceño.
—¿Obstáculo? Ya hablamos de eso. Podemos llamarle “meta”, esa palabra suena mejor —respondió su Psiquiatra, pero ella no le siguió la cuerda.
Ella quitó la mirada del hombre y luego la centró en aquella pecera que tanto le gustaba admirar. Allí se encontraba solo un pez. Oliver le dijo una vez que nunca supo qué comprar para llenarla, entonces decidió por los peces que más le gustaron, por lo tanto, después de unos días, algunos se comieron entre otros, y al final, quedó el más pequeño e insignificante en la pecera. Parecía que esa imagen la hacía sentir comprendida, no sabía cómo explicarlo, pero ella se sentía así.
Muy sola.
Después de unos minutos observando la pecera, rodó los ojos hacia el reloj. Detestaba estar a merced del tiempo y parecía que sus horas aquí eran las más rápidas de toda la semana. Suspiró pesado sintiendo una aprensión en el pecho. Después que saliera de esta habitación volvería a enfrentar su vida y pediría en súplica que se pasara el tiempo rápido para volver de nuevo.
—Quiero suspender la mitad de su tratamiento Anaelise…
Ella estaba sumida en sus propios pensamientos, pero definitivamente esta frase aceleró su corazón, como mil corrientes juntas.
Abrió mucho los ojos y se giró de golpe.
—¿De qué está hablando? —preguntó torpemente hacia el hombre.
Oliver pudo sentir el temblor de su voz y trató de ser rápido con lo que quería decirle…
—Anaelise, por favor, escúcheme. Quiero su bienestar, así que he decidido suspender los medicamentos progresivamente, ya son muchos años y…
—¡Usted sabe qué me llevará de esto…! —interrumpió agitada, de hecho, se levantó de su asiento mientras caminaba por ambos lados.
—Lo entiendo. Pero debo hacerlo, inclusive creo que me siento culpable de que su TEPT* se haya vuelto crónico.
Ana soltó una risa irónica a lo que se frenó delante de él.
—¿Culpable? —Preguntó con una risa escalofriante en sus labios—. Usted no tiene nada que ver con esos hijos de…
—Anaelise…
El pecho de ella subía y bajaba agitado. Tenía la cara roja y las pupilas dilatadas. Necesitaba tratar de controlarse, lo que Oliver estaba diciendo solo era una broma. «Debía serlo».
—Por favor —el tono de su voz cambió cuando se dirigió a Oliver de nuevo—. No quiero volver a pasar por esto, no quiero las pesadillas, ni los ataques de pánico, ni nada de esa mierda.
—Escucha… —Pidió Oliver levantándose y tomando sus hombros. Ella rechazó el tacto al instante, a pesar de los años, y de que confiaba plenamente en Oliver, no soportaba ese tipo de gestos hacia ella. Oliver retiró la mano y luego aspiró para tener más calma—. Solo lo intentaremos, además, vas a entrar en una nueva etapa de tu vida, es necesario que te sueltes más, incluso, ¿quién quita que hagas nuevas amistades, y hasta quieras tener un novio?
Por primera vez en mucho tiempo, escuchó una carcajada de Anaelise. Aunque esta carecía de gracia, sabía que la idea le resultó muy graciosa, y eso era un punto positivo en medio de todo su caos.
—Solo dame mi récipe para reclamar mis medicamentos, Oliver —ella le respondió y él le devolvió la sonrisa.
—Solo te lo advierto Anaelise, quiero que sepas que deseo lo mejor para ti, superarás todo esto. Eres fuerte, y lo superarás.
Ella quitó de su rostro todos los rastros de alegría que de forma inexplicable aparecieron segundos atrás.
«Nadie», ni siquiera Oliver Walsh que la había atendido por 14 años consecutivos podría imaginar por lo que ella había pasado. A Anaelise no solo le había robado su cuerpo, su esencia y hasta sus sueños. A ella le había destrozado el alma.
Estaba rota, y sabía que era imposible tener una vida normal, incluso estaba segura de que eso jamás sucedería.
Oliver firmó su récipe, reduciendo en un 10% la medicación. Comenzaría por algo, porque, aunque sabía que ella no lo iba a entender muy bien, lo peor no había llegado. No podía imaginar qué pasaría cuando le dijera la otra parte, esa donde él ya no formaría parte de su sesión semanal.
Así que tomó el papel y lo asomó hacia ella.
La chica agarró el récipe de inmediato y lo dobló para colocarlo en la parte trasera de su jean.
—Lo veré en una semana —se despidió Anaelise, luego de una larga mirada para abandonar así su lugar de refugio.
Entonces Oliver soltó un suspiro largo y luego volvió abrir el archivo gordo que tenía entre sus manos. Pasó las páginas de toda la documentación que tenía de Anaelise, hasta que encontró las líneas que tanto le perturbaba leer.
Estos trazos eran algo torpes, ella aún tenía 8 años cuando Oliver Walsh le pidió que escribiera algo sobre el amor. Así que volvió a leer su escrito:
“El amor puede doler, el amor puede doler a veces. Pero eso es lo único que conozco.
El amor puede sanar, incluso un alma no está lo suficiente rota como para que el amor no pueda componerla. Así que esto es lo único que conozco.
Y si me lastimas, bueno, lo intentaré de nuevo, y eso está bien para mí”
- (TEPT): Trastorno de estrés postraumático.
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About Author

Maria Pulido
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