TORTURED SOUL | abby littman

𝗰𝗵𝗮𝗽𝘁𝗲𝗿 𝘁𝗵𝗶𝗿𝘁𝘆 𝗼𝗻𝗲.

Rowan hadn't guessed that it was her school records in the files. Guess nothing was confidential anymore. "I guess," she answered with a loose shrug.

"Why?"

"What?"

"What drives you to be perfect in everything?" Paul elaborated. "Especially from that young? A perfectionist always has a reason for working that hard though all can be different. What is your reason?"

Rowan hesitated.

"I don't know."

Rowan wasn't sure why she had hesitated. There wasn't a reason she strived to be top of her classes. She just did. That was all. She had no reason to hesitate at all. She could feel Paul studying her, following even the slightest change of her features.

"Some strive for academic achievement. Some believe it gives them value, it proves that they're worthy of something. Some people are like that because it makes them feel good about themselves. Some as a distraction." Rowan shrugged again and Paul hummed, closing the folder and placing it down on the desk behind him. "Forgive me if I cross a line here but do you maybe believe that if you are nothing less than perfect then these people, your teachers and your peers, will see you the way your father sees you?"

Rowan turned away from Paul, gaze lowering to her lap as she asked quietly, "what way is that?"

"You tell me." Rowan hated that he knew what he meant. A screw-up. A mistake that should not have been there. That was the way her father saw her. A mistake which should never had been born, someone who would be better off dead. But Rowan remained silent, not replying to Paul. "Okay. We'll circle back to that later, let me ask you something else. When it all gets too much for you, when you can't achieve that perfection or when things at home become too hard, what do you do? Hang out with friends, maybe? Go to parties? Drink?"

"I don't drink."

"Because of your father?" Rowan nodded. "Good thing too since you're underage. Well, what is your go to thing when you are anything less than perfect?"

Rowan pursed her lips, thinking about what could count. She reads a lot though not as much as she used to so she didn't think that was what he was asking for. There was talking to Abby when things became too hard but she did not want to talk about her here so instead, she answered with what allowed for her and Abby to connect in the first place. "I like drives."

"Ah, more scenic," he said and Rowan nodded once more. "So you escape for a few hours, is that it? How do you feel when you're on your drives?"

"I don't know, free?"

"So it's an escape, correct?

"I guess."

"Escapism is a coping mechanism, primarily one used to avoid negative emotions. That is exactly what you described, to be free. Perhaps from those bad thoughts and feelings. It is your escape into comfort away from the need for perfection. We'll go back to that later. I am curious now, you have just turned sixteen, right? So before drives, what was your escape?" Rowan paused. She may not drink but she doubted smoking was any better. "Rowan, anything you say does not leave this room. It won't get you into trouble so whatever it is, you can say it."

"I smoke. Sometimes."

"Why?"

"Why do I smoke?" Paul nodded. "I don't know." Rowan knew she was repeating herself a lot and maybe it wasn't a good idea to lie to someone who analyses people for a living but she really did not want to live in the past. Not anymore.

"You're a smart girl, Rowan, try harder than that."

Rowan sighed, her foot tapping against the floor frantically, her knee bouncing. "My stepmom used to." Paul didn't say anything but Rowan knew he was waiting for her to continue. "Not in front of us. She was better than that. Better than my dad. But she left her pack when she left. I found it and, I dunno, tried it and couldn't stop."