The Cost of Silence

The Cost of Silence chapter 1

Authors Note:

Hey guys, so this is a new story I just started writing, it's just a little something that had popped into my head and ended up on paper! Please, please, please tell me if you like it, dislike it, if I should continue it or not, if you would end up reading more of it and stuff (I don't want to write something that nobody would read!), etc. Your feedback really would mean a lot to me!(: Thanks tons darlings! I love you all! <3

Chapter 1

The waiting room was actually pretty cozy, which was unexpected. Unexpected, but kind of nice. Most of the waiting rooms that I had been to in the past year were so...I don't know. Uncomfortable, I guess.

There was a couch, some chairs, and a stack of magazines. There was even a little table with an electric kettle and all the fixings you'd need for tea and coffee. It would have actually been a pretty pleasant place to be, if it had been under different circumstances.

Any other circumstances.

But at the moment, and considering why I was stuck here, it was one of the last places on Earth that I wanted to be at right now. Sitting on the couch, looking at the pictures of animals on the walls, it made me sick to my stomach. I wanted to puke.

What did I do to get stuck here?

I drummed my fingers against my knee, which was a nervous habit of mine. I drummed my fingers against my knee when i was stressed out or nervous, which were basically becoming my default feelings.

My mother had told me that I had no reason be nervous or upset, that I should just be myself, that I wasn't in any trouble, and that all I was supposed to do was talk to this woman, who's name I thought was Andrea. That was what she said to me every single time I started seeing a new therapist. I didn't really understand why. It didn't make me feel any better. It certainly didn't make me actually talk to the therapist.

Because the thing was, I didn't want to talk. To anyone.

My mother knew that. She must have known that. I had made it pretty obvious, with my lack of talking for the last year or so.

What in the world had my mother been thinking, just assuming that I would automatically open up with my feelings here, if I wouldn't even talk at home, surrounded by people that I actually knew? I definitely didn't know this woman. She didn't know me, either. She probably didn't even want to get to know me. And if she didn't, I certainly wouldn't blame her, not one bit. Who did actually want to get to know me? The answer was obvious. No one.

No one ever had any interest in getting to know me, and that was just the way I liked it.

My eyes darted over to the door that had led me into this place. It was only a few feet away. I could just walk out of this waiting room, right now, and never ever come back. My mom wouldn't make me, if I put up a big enough fight. She couldn't physically drag me back here, right? Well, she probably would have been able to, but i doubted that she cared that much.

No one did, really.

I was so, so tempted. I could get up, right now, and walk out that door. No one could stop me. My legs seemed to automatically uncross and I stood up without even thinking about what I was doing. Just a few steps. That's all it really was. But. What good would it do me? It would only make my mother angry. My father wouldn't care or know, thankfully.

I didn't have time to make up my mind, though, because just then, a door on the other side of the room opened up. A lady that seemed to be in probably her mid 20's walked into the waiting room. She looked nice enough. But she probably wasn't nice enough to let me leave here just yet.