Group Therapy

Chapter 1

This is a very short first chapter, but it's just to show where Sang is mentally currently. There will be a time jump of a week between the first few chapters because Sang doesn't have a whole lot going on other than group therapy.

Also, I was thinking about adding Blake but I wanted to get everybody's opinions. So comment whether y'all want me to add him or not!

Thank you guys for checking this story out, I hope I did it justice. Hope you guys enjoy!

Sang's P.O.V.

"Come on," I jump on his back, "Eli, we're going to be late."

        He grunts. "Can't I sleep in just a little bit longer?"

         "Nope. You're the one that chose the tickets, you get to deal with the consequences."

       He looks up at me over his shoulder and grins. "Fine. You'll have to let me up though."

I roll off his back and he pushes himself up. He gives me a big smile. "Good morning wife."

"I like the sound of that," I grin. We both lean in for a quick kiss and he tries to deepen it.

      "Hey," I laugh after pulling away, "You need to get ready."

     "I can think of a good reason to be late," he says suggestively as he pulls me close to him again.
       
"There's plenty of time for that on our honeymoon," I say before pushing him away.

"Fine," he sighs. He doesn't move though, he just stares at me.

"Why are you looking at me like that?," I ask.

"I just can't believe how lucky I am," he replies.
       
"Sang?," I'm interrupted and brought out of my trance by Rebecca. "How have you been?"

"Fine," I shrug.

She smiles. "Sang, you may have only been coming here for a month, but I can tell when you're lying. You've given a different version of the same answer each week. Why bother coming if you aren't going to be honest?"

I laugh dryly. "Alright. My husband was killed. I can't keep a job right now. Hell, it's a chore just to drag a brush through my hair everyday. How's that?"

"Better," she says gently, "Do you have anybody that can help you out right now? Family, maybe? Or a friend?"

"I don't have any family. Eli was all I had. And as for friends, they don't really care anymore. They went to the funeral, called to check in, made me those sympathy dinners, and then they just stopped. They got over it, so they expect me to be over it."

        "Maybe it's time to find some new friends, people you can relate to. This group is really good for that sort of thing."

        "Yeah, maybe," I say. I'm sure the people in my group are nice. But, I don't think they are the time of people I'd like to spend time with.

          "Anything else you'd like to share with the group?," she asks.

          "Nope," I sigh.

            She doesn't seem to approve, but she continues going around the circle. When she gets to the last man, I notice he's new. The group is not a big one, so a new face sticks out.

"Why don't you introduce yourself to the group?," Rebecca asks.

        "My name is North Taylor."

        "And what brings you here, North?," she asks.

         "I came here so my brothers would get off my back," he says simply.

"They're worried about you?"

             "Yes."

              "How come?," she says, trying to get him to open up more.

           "I guess since my girlfriend died, I've been a bit more reckless than usual."

I zone back out. I haven't been able to focus on much since Eli's death.

           I shoot up out of my seat as soon the meeting is over. I don't want to make small talk. I don't want to do anything. Sometimes the meetings help, sometimes they don't. In all honesty the only reason I've been going is so I don't feel so fucking alone.

        But when I get back to my apartment, that's all I feel. All I've felt for the last four months is this immense loneliness and sadness that's eventually just going to drown me.

      I turn the light on and fix myself a bowl of cereal. Cereal has been my go to meal for the past couple of months. I've been avoiding anything that requires too much effort in pretty much every aspect of my life.

         After eating, I leave the bowl on the counter. The dishes are piling up and I know I need to do some deep cleaning. I'll try and do it later, but right now I just need some rest.

      I go into our room and throw myself onto his side. His pillow no longer smells like him. I've worn his clothes pretty much everyday since the accident, so they all smell like me now.

       Which part of him will leave me next? What if one day, I can't remember his voice? Maybe I could live with that. But I couldn't live with forgetting his face or the memories we shared.

Part of me wants to move. It's too painful being here sometimes, knowing he'll never come back home.

But there's several problems with that. It also hurts thinking about leaving our first home. There's so many memories I'd be leaving behind.

Apart from his clothes, I haven't been able to go through his things and I know that if I move I'd have to finally do that. I'm not ready for that.

Also, I'm currently jobless. Eli and I put money away as much as we could, so it's prevented me from being homeless. But the money's running out and if I don't get my shit together in the next couple of months, I'm going to end up being evicted.

          Everything seems to be crashing down around me, and I can't make myself care enough to fix it.