Mr. Walter's 24 hour Library Therapy

2nd therapy session

two

let her go

"mom" i said. "drop me off here, i need to buy something"

mom obliged. she parks in front of hollister, and drives away looking happy that her daughter is finally into pop culture and wants to shop at hollister and be a normal teen. as if, i think with a snort, before running to the supermarket. 

the last therapy session inspired me to buy some new curtains for remy. his ugly curtains were really pissing me off, so yeah. i've got three dollars in my pocket, enough to buy the bright pink curtains with little banana prints across it.

the french liked bananas right?

i ripped it out from the counter, paid for it, before walking to the therapy building-or Mr. Walter's 24 hour Library therapy-with the curtains inside a plastic bag. i've got spare change to buy a popsicle, but i was already fifteen minutes late.

entering the building, i stormed up the spiral staircase. the plastic bag is really itchy, since it brushes against my bare legs. though i hated wearing shorts, it was like the sahara desert outside. only differance was that people had access to water and liquids. 

room 6. i barge inside, half-expecting to see remy reading a dirty book. god i could already imagine him reading fifty shades of grey. 

remy smiles as he sees me. 

"i got you new curtains" i say, closing the door behind me and tossing the plastic bag on his desk. he looks surprised, flattered and then happy when he sees the curtains.

"totally will improve the room" he replies. i grin, helping him put the curtains on before i took a step back, looking satisfied. 

"i love it" he says.

it kinda looked shitty against the ocean blue walls. 

"don't say that. i probably just wasted three dollars which i could've bought to buy three popsicles" i shot back. remy laughs, glancing at me with those god forsaken, beautiful eyes. nobody should ever be born with knee buckling beautiful eyes. it's too dangerous for humanity.

he sits down on his chair, and i sit down on the uncomfortable, plastic chair that makes my ass really wet. it's cold against my bare thighs, and i scoot closer to hide my fat legs underneath the table. (that's a trick by the way)

"is that a first sign of kindness, amelia?" he asks me, smiling.

god his smile. 

"no, i don't break easily, it's just that your curtains pissed me off like my mom" was my reply. shit i sound bitchy. remy frowns (he still looks smoking) and his lips thin as he sighs and shakes his head. 

i get that a lot. 

remy takes out a poetry book. since when did i last read a book? i thought, staring at the battered copy. there's dog ears on the yellow pages, and a wine stain at the back. but it smells alive and used, and i like to think that remy cried because of the story and hugged the book.

"it's a library therapy session" remy began watching me as i flick through the pages. "it's not at the best condition...but i suppose it will have to do" what do i do with it? i think as i watched remy take out a white notebook. 

"i will encourage you to express yourself in this notebook, and what you think of the poetry book so far" remy says, smiling. god i'd do everything if he smiles at me like that, it makes me all jittery and warm and oh, so beautiful. 

"are you going to read it?" i ask.

because my thoughts will involve my mom.

and a few inapproriate words.

"no" he says, in the most believable fashion. i can see honesty in his eyes, and i hesitate before taking both of the books in my hands. and it feels warm in my grasp, and mine. mine. 

i never had anything to call mine. 

my whole life was my mom's.

"t-thanks" i whisper.