Cliffs Edge [Kaylor]

one

There's something dreadful about therapist offices. Karlie's been inside many since she started her road to recovery five years ago and she's deduced that they all share a few similarities. The warm lighting, the comfortable furniture, and the bookcases filled with tomes that describe every possible mental illness that a human being could have. This office in particular is decked out in contrasting dark browns and light creams, and the small armchair that Karlie is sitting in is made of genuine leather. She can tell that business is good for the woman who's currently sitting across from her, a notepad resting on her lap and her gaze trained on Karlie. They've been staring at one another for a few minutes, neither of them saying much aside from hello. It's getting boring.

Doctor Bennett is the newest annoyance that her parents have decided to force upon her. She looks like she's pushing sixty and her black hair is littered with streaks of grey. There's a sullen look about her, as if she's never satisfied, and Karlie can already tell she's going to be a condescending bitch. One that probably won't be easy to get rid of, either. Her parents have gotten better at screening potential therapists. They get a little older and frumpier each time.

"Your parents didn't think you'd show up today. Why is that?" Doctor Bennett breaks the silence in the room.

"Maybe because I don't want to be here? I could be pulling an extra shift."

God knows she needs the money.

"At the bar you work at?"

"Yeah. You already knew that, though."

"Do you work extra shifts often?"

"As many as I can get. The pay is crap but tips make up for it a little. I need all the hours I can manage, New York isn't exactly the cheapest place to live."

"Yet you left your family in St. Louis to come here."

"Anywhere is better than St. Louis. I hated it there."

"Why?"

The question irritates Karlie more than it probably should. It's always the same with these fucking therapists. Why do you say that? What do you mean? How does that make you feel? It's a never ending cycle of questions and Karlie is honestly so sick of it. She can't wait until she gets enough money to break away from her family completely. After that she won't need to be sitting in a room with stuffy ass Doctor Bennett, or anyone else.

"Karlie?"

"What?!"

Doctor Bennett doesn't bat an eyelash at Karlie's sharp tone. She is infuriatingly nonchalant. "Why do you hate St. Louis?"

"Because I do. Everything went to shit there."

"That's where your addiction came to light. Is that what you mean?"

"I guess."

She writes something down in that stupid notepad. Karlie scowls, wondering if those notes are going to end up in her parents' hands. There's supposed to be a therapist-client privilege but that doesn't seem to mean shit to the therapists that her parents throw her way. She can't trust any of them, and Doctor Bennett is no exception.

"Let's talk about that. How old were you when you realized you had a sex addiction?"

"I didn't realize anything," Karlie spits out angrily, "I was told."

"Excuse me. How old were you when you were diagnosed?"

"Sixteen."

"And you're twenty-one now, correct?"