Us by James Bay
Can we make it better cause I'm losing hope, tell me how to be in this world, tell me how to breathe in and feel no hurt, tell me how could I believe in something — I believe in us.
"How do you feel?"
I dunno, a little like my friend just died because I didn't trust her, and like maybe if I had she wouldn't have been brutally murdered on display to a full audience and the world's televisions.
"Fine."
My therapist scrawls down some notes on her clipboard. I sit still in my uncomfortable seat and wait for the next question.
"Do you feel anything in particular?" She asks.
"Sad?" I shrug. She gestures for me to go on. "That's all I've got." I sigh bluntly.
"You need to cooperate if you want this to work. Be honest and I might actually be able to help you get over this. I'll ask again: What do you feel?"
I sink deeper into my shoulders, drowning in my own skin.
"Guilt." I finally say after momentary silence. "And why is that?" She hums. "I killed her." I whisper.
"You've said that 4 times total now, Paris, and you're yet to expand on that statement. Are you aware the detectives in this homicide are suspecting you over anyone?"
Maybe if they arrested me I'd be safer.
"Please tell me what's going on. Patient confidentiality." She assures me.
Just tell her.
Don't.
Tell her.
Don't you dare.
C'mon, do it.
Don't.
Say it.
"I have a stalker."
Why would you say that?!
You told me to!
That's my inner thought, it's meant to stay inner.
I've officially fucking lost it now that the voices in my head are having conversations.
"Sorry?" She blinks.
"Been stalking me for over a year." I elaborate.
"I.. I don't know if I've heard that one before.."
She thinks I'm crazy. No. She knows I'm crazy. 'Thinks' implies that there's any speculation. 'Knows' is a fact. She knows I'm insane.
"I have a stalker. I don't know who it is. They've been hunting me down, hurting me, threatening me." I ramble.
"Tell me everything." She orders. And so I do. I replay everything, knowing this therapists life is now directly in danger because of my rambling, but I can't bring myself to keep it inside.
Grayson:
My foot taps aggressively on the floor, my leg bouncing as I sit in the waiting room of the therapists office. I know Paris knows more than she's letting on. I know she may even know who did this. But the only way to get it out of her is with her therapist. According to Dr Greene, Paris stopped seeing her a long time ago. We were all under the impression she was still seeing her every week.
ESTÁS LEYENDO
Riches | The inheritance games
Misterio / Suspenso"My whole life has always been built around my future.. and it still is but now, you're my future" Imagine you're living in your eldest sister apartment with her abusive boyfriend some nights living in your car to get away, having your younger sist...
