Fix You

Chapter One

It's cold. I want a drink, but I don't want to get up. It will be even colder if I do.

There's a knock at the door.

"Who is it?" I call out.

The door opens. It's Uncle Jack. I grin. I sit up.

"How are you, baby girl?" he asks. He sits beside me.

"Good," I answer. I'm glad he's here.

He moves closer. "You've grown up so much now."

"Thanks." I blush. He takes my hand in his.

"You're almost a woman now."

I grin. I can't wait to be a grown up.

"Yeah. I'm eight years old!"

He smiles. It's dark. I can't really see his face. I want him to turn the lights on.

"Do you know how you can finally be a real woman?" he asks.

"How?!" I want to be a woman.

"I'll show you." He rests his hand on my leg. I smile at him. I want to be a grown up. A woman.

   

The traffic was really bad that morning.

The sky was dark and cloudy, the sun completely hidden from sight. It was probably going to rain later. I didn't know why I was surprised; it was always raining in Portland. I cursed under my breath as I suddenly realized I had forgotten my umbrella, registering the fact that I would get drenched on my way out of work. I had broken the first rule of surviving in Portland: always have an umbrella.

Still cursing my stupidity, I switched on my turn signal before pulling into the parking lot.

'Clinical Psychology Therapy Center' the sign read. The building itself was rather large; ten floors in total and a little more than fifty employees total. I'd been working there for around two years. I was twenty-eight and pretty accomplished for such a young age. I'd graduated college with all my degrees and had quickly gotten a job and made a name for myself as a successful psychiatrist in this rather large building.

"Good morning, Doctor Ayers," chirped the receptionist as I walked into the lobby. She was around twenty-two and was obviously only working here for the money and possibly to gain work experience, not having a genuine calling to the field of psychology or a desire to help others. I'd learned all of this early on after many attempts at being nice to her and trying to engage in a conversation. After a couple of weeks and realizing that neither of us had anything in common or particularly enjoyed the company of the other, we had both come to an unspoken agreement to merely do our jobs and tolerate the other.

"Good morning, Morgan," I briskly replied before walking into my office. I was no mood to be pleasant, my mood darkened by the fact that my carelessness had resulted in me leaving my umbrella at my house.

She yelled after me as I went into my office, "Your schedule has been updated and is on your desk! Your 7:30am is going to be here in ten!"

I quickly sat down at my desk. My office gave off very calm vibes, furnished with comfortable furniture and painted a soothing shade of light blue with minimalistic paintings hanging, designed to keep my patients in a relaxed environment while I treated them. My desk was in one corner of the room, along with all of my files and paperwork, and on the other side was a navy blue couch for the patients and across from it a large, gray chair for myself.