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Chapter 12: Consent
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2026-01-19 23:24:21
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A Life Without Gratitude Chapter 22: Damien's Observation
I've been living with Damien for five years, and I can count on one hand the number of real conversations we've had.So when he knocks on my door at 8 PM on a Thursday with two glasses of wine, I know something's shifted."Can we talk?" he asks.I'm in my pajamas, journaling about today's family onslaught, but I close the notebook. "Sure. Come in."He hands me a glass, stays standing by the window. We've never been in my room together like this—intimate space, casual clothes, no performance. It feels strange."You've been different lately," he says without preamble. "I've been trying to figure out when it started, but I think it was that morning. When you said you weren't going to dinner with your family.""That was more than two monthes ago.""I know. And in those two monthes, you've been to the doctor three times. You started therapy. You stopped answering your family's calls. You blocked your mother. You—" He pauses, searching for words. "You've become someone I don't recognize."M
A Life Without Gratitude Chapter 20: The Escalation Begins
The silence lasts exactly three days.Three days of blessed quiet after I blocked Mother's number. Three days of no demands, no guilt trips, no manufactured emergencies. Three days where I can breathe without waiting for the next crisis.I should have known it wouldn't last.On day four, my phone starts buzzing at 7:32 AM.I'm making coffee when the first call comes through. Unknown number. I silence it.Then another. Another. By the time my coffee is ready, I have six missed calls from numbers I don't recognize and a text from a contact I haven't heard from in two years: Aunt Carol.Claire, honey, please call me. Your mother is beside herself with worry. We need to talk about what's going on.I stare at the message. Aunt Carol. Mother's older sister. The woman I've seen maybe ten times in my adult life, always at obligatory family gatherings where she air-kisses and makes vague promises to "do lunch sometime."Why is she contacting me now?The phone buzzes again. This time I recogniz
A Life Without Gratitude Chapter 21: Two Lists.
Dr. Chen takes one look at my face and ushers me straight into her office."Show me everything," she says.I pull up my phone. Show her the texts, the missed calls, the Instagram post, the comments. Play her the voicemail from Aunt Carol saying she's "concerned for my mental health."Dr. Chen's expression doesn't change as she reviews everything, but I see her jaw tighten."This," she says finally, "is textbook. Absolutely textbook.""Textbook what?""DARVO. Deny, Attack, Reverse Victim and Offender." She sets down my phone. "Your family is doing exactly what abusers do when their victim starts setting boundaries. They're denying the abuse happened, attacking your credibility, and reversing the roles so they're the victims of YOUR cruelty.""So I'm not crazy? This is really happening?""You're not crazy. This is a calculated campaign to discredit you and force you back into compliance." She pulls out her notepad. "Let's break it down. What are they saying about you?""That I'm having
A Life Without Gratitude Chapter 19: The Diagnosis
I answer on the first ring. "Hello?""Mrs. Wolfe, it's Dr. Morrison. I have your blood work results. Do you have a few minutes to talk?"My heart hammers. "Yes. I'm sitting down.""Good." She takes a breath. "Your results show some abnormalities I want to discuss. Your complete blood count shows lower than normal white blood cells, particularly neutrophils. Your red blood cells are slightly enlarged. And your platelet count is borderline low."I close my eyes. I remember these words from my first timeline. Different doctor, same diagnosis building block by block."What does that mean?" I ask, even though I know."It could mean several things. But given the pattern and your symptoms, I'm concerned about myelodysplastic syndrome—MDS. It's a bone marrow disorder where the marrow doesn't produce healthy blood cells effectively.""Is it cancer?""It's considered a precancerous condition. Some cases progress to acute myeloid leukemia. Some remain stable for years. We can't predict which tra
A Life Without Gratitude Chapter 18: In the hospital
The waiting room at Greenfield Medical Associates smells like antiseptic and anxiety.I've been sitting here for twenty minutes, filling out intake forms with shaking hands. Medical history. Family history. Current symptoms. The questions feel like landmines.Have you experienced any of the following in the past six months: unexplained fatigue, frequent bruising, night sweats, weight loss?Yes. Yes. Yes. Yes.In my first timeline, I ignored all of these. Attributed them to stress, to poor sleep, to working too hard. By the time I couldn't ignore them anymore, it was too late.This time, I'm here. Eleven months before the collapse. Eleven months before stage four.Please let me be early enough."Claire Wolfe?" A nurse appears in the doorway, clipboard in hand.I stand on legs that feel like water. Follow her down a hallway painted in calming blues and grays. She weighs me (I've lost eight pounds since my last physical two years ago), takes my blood pressure (elevated—no surprise), and
A Life Without Gratitude Chapter 17: The Psychologist
Dr. Sarah Chen's office is nothing like I expected.No clinical white walls or intimidating leather couch. Instead: warm honey-colored wood floors, soft gray furniture, plants everywhere—ferns and succulents and something with broad green leaves I can't name. Natural light streams through tall windows. There's a white noise machine humming quietly in the corner, and the air smells faintly of lavender.It feels safe.That thought catches me off guard. When was the last time I felt safe anywhere?"Claire?" A woman appears in the doorway connecting to an inner office. She's petite, maybe late forties, with kind eyes and silver-streaked black hair pulled into a loose bun. "I'm Dr. Chen. Please, come in."I follow her into the therapy room. More plants. A desk in the corner with a laptop, but she doesn't sit there. Instead, she gestures to two armchairs positioned at angles, close but not too close."Make yourself comfortable. Would you like water? Tea?""Water, please." My throat is tight
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