with these words of mine ; [discontinued]

one

❯❯ trigger warning on this entire book ❮❮
as it will deal with topics of physical abuse, sexual abuse, sexual assault, alcoholism, survivors guilt, eating disorders, self harm and suicide.

please read with caution. i will not be putting warnings before triggering parts, but if i feel a particular chapter is heavy, i will put a warning at the beginning.
note that flashbacks are in italics.
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here is your warning for this chapter.

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(𝗐𝗈𝗋𝖽𝗌 𝗂 𝗁𝖾𝗅𝖽 𝖻𝖺𝖼𝗄 𝗍𝗁𝗋𝗈𝗎𝗀𝗁 𝗆𝗒 𝖻𝗂𝗍𝗍𝖾𝗇 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝖻𝗅𝗈𝗈𝖽𝗂𝖾𝖽 𝗍𝗈𝗇𝗀𝗎𝖾. 𝗁𝖾𝗋𝖾 𝗂𝗌 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗉𝗋𝗂𝖼𝖾 𝗂 𝗉𝖺𝗒𝖾𝖽.)
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You chewed your nails anxiously as you waited for the hour to be over. Both of you were used to this, six months of it and everything flowed in the same routine. Sure, you could talk. About anything really, except when it came down to revealing suppressed memories and feelings you'd rather run away from.

"Do you remember our agreement?" You nodded, averting your eyes to the framed diploma on the wall.

Claire McCrae, PhD in clinical psychology.

She put her notes aside, letting her entire focus be on you. She could tell you didn't want to take the next step of the deal just by reading your body language. Your jaw was clenched, arms folded neatly in your lap as a subtle form of protection. Your foot anxiously tapped the floor, bouncing faster than the second hand on the clock could keep up with.

"I think it's time, Y/N. Your symptoms aren't getting any better and you still refuse to even go near the subject. One of the most traumatic things anyone could ever experience happened to you. There's no escaping that, no matter how hard you try. You have to talk about it sometime, Y/N. You can't continue to let it eat you up inside. I really think you could benefit from the program."

You defiantly shook your head at the therapist in front of you, "I'll talk! I promise, this time I'm being serious!"

"You've said that before and not much has changed. About the only thing I notice different is that your hair has gotten longer and you dyed it a few months ago, but you wouldn't even talk about that."

That was so no one could recognize me. You wanted to say.

You bit your lip to refrain from arguing. "You haven't made any progress in the time I've been seeing you. You're still the same traumatized girl who walked through my doors six months ago. And I don't want that for you, Y/N. I want to see you grow, to flourish into a new person, to put it behind you and experience life as the good that it can be."

"But I promise I'll do better! Please, you can't-"

"Honey, you're body is even more frail and fragile than it was when you first came into my office. You're always tense and on edge as if something is going to hurt you. That's not a way to live."

You sank back in your chair knowing the woman in front of you was right.

"You know the state pays for your treatment, right? Everything's covered. That was part of the deal. You were there in court listening to all the agreements." You flinched as the woman got closer to the subject. The memory burned your body. There was no avoiding it; you were a victim and nothing could ever change that.