An Honest Heart

Therapy Session

Chapter Question:
What's the scariest moment you've had in your life?
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*Y/n's P.O.V.*

We finally pull up to the Therapist office. To say I was nervous was an understatement.

I was absolutely terrified.

I couldn't help but fiddle with my fingers the whole drive down. I would've usually bounced my legs, but in their current state, I didn't want to risk hurting them even more. Thomas noticed some time along the drive and had slipped his fingers through mine, allowing me to hold on to him.

"It's alright, love." He had said softly, rubbing his thumb against my hand. "Everything will be just fine. I'll be with you through it all."

I nodded my head, too nervous to speak. Thomas gave my hand a small squeeze and I squeezed back, using his hand as my only anchor to keep me somewhat calm.

But here we are, and I think I just might faint.

Thomas got out of the car and carefully helped me into my wheelchair.

I held onto him as if he was the only thing keeping me steady. And he didn't protest. In fact, I felt as if he held me tighter because I was scared.

When he did get me in my wheelchair, I felt reluctant to let go. I didn't want this to be real. I just wish I would wake up in Thomas' arms, completely safe and not having to be forced to relive that hell I barely got out of.

Thomas noticed my hesitation and kneeled down in front of me, carefully rubbing a part of my back that was healed. "It's ok to be afraid, love." Thomas says softly. "And I know you don't want to do this and I wish you didn't have to. But I know this will help you heal and move on so those nightmares won't control you so badly. And I'll be there for you the whole way."

I nod my head into his shoulder as I felt the sting of tears entering my eyes. He was right, though - I had to overcome my fear and get help for my PTSD. I didn't want to hurt Thomas or bother him more than my other mental issues did. It killed me to know that if I had just been stronger or more aware of what my surroundings were I could've prevented this.

Thomas slowly pulls away from me, bringing his hand to the side of my face. I lean into his warm palm, grasping his wrist with my own hand to prevent him from pulling away.

"I promise I'll be there with you the whole time," Thomas says softly, rubbing his thumb against my cheek. "I'll hold your hand the whole time. Or I'll just hold all of you if that's what you want. But just know that I will not leave your side unless you ask me to. And even then, I won't be far."

I nod my head, pulling back a shaky sob.

Thomas kisses my forehead, lingering for a moment before pulling away, leaving me colder than I was mere seconds ago.

He goes to the back of my wheelchair and begins to push me to the doors, making sure our car was locked. I tense up, feeling uncertain about all of it despite the comforting words Thomas had just uttered to me.

I then feel a small, warming weight rest on my shoulder, making me crane my neck to try to catch a glimpse of Thomas as he gives me a warm smile, helping me relax again.

I can't help but reach my hand up and grab his, hoping just his touch would be able to keep me anchored.

We get to the front desk and the woman, I'd suspect around her early or mid-twenties, looked up and began squealing when she saw Thomas.

"Oh my gosh! You're Thomas Brodie Sangster! I'm such a huge fan!" She squealed, nearly jumping out of her seat. She opens her mouth to say something else, but stops when she turns to me. "Oh! You must be y/n y/l/n! It's such an honor to meet you!"