All Eyes

All Eyes|| Chapter One

The feeling was mutual.

However, after I lived with gran it felt like since I am in a therapist clinic, I had to do an effort.

For her and for Darcy.

My grandmother used to be very close to the both of us. She used to talk to Darcy a lot, and they were very close. If not, they were best friends even.

She cried more than my mother did on her funeral. In fact, she cared about the funeral more than both my parents did.

Oh, the funeral.
It was the worst feeling a guy could experience in the world.

I felt like my insides had been smashed, slowly and painfully. It felt like there was a potato in my chest and it was being smashed for dinner.

And that was where my heart laid.

Or what remained of it.

"Christopher, am I right?" she asked politely, and I nodded my head in affirmation, clearing my throat.

She eyed me, sensing my awkwardness and my uneasiness.

"No need to be shy, take a seat or lay down if you want," she suggested, gesturing to a chaise longue with her tall painted finger.

Nodding, I took a seat in front of her on a similar wooden chair.

She cleared her throat casually and opened my file that laid open  between her hands.

Everything she needed to know about my mental issues were registered down in that file, then why the hell am I even doing here?

"So Chris, if you don't mind me calling you that of course," she kinda asked, smiling easily at me. She wore a nice white blouse with some flowers patterned on the long sleeves and a black skirt that reached just above her knees. She couldn't possibly be older than forty and she looked professional.

I flinched at the nickname, shaking my head wishing that she wouldn't call me by that nickname again.

She looked at me with her wide blue eyes and pursed lips, nodding her head in understanding. Then she let her lips settle in a small polite smile, as she went on again.

"So, Christopher-"  she empathized my name. I nodded for her to keep on talking, before I totally lose interest because I was starting to, honestly.

"You suffer from..."

Anger issues, depression, anxiety, eating disorders, and I am not sure if I forgot anything else.

"Anger issues, depression, anxiety, eating disorders and-"

I sighed waiting for her to say the last and the worst thing my sick brain suffers from.

"Schizophrenia," I released a breath I didn't know I was holding, glancing down at my hands that turned white from gripping too hard on the armrests.

I released my death grip and wiped my sweaty palms against my jeans.

And suddenly I didn't feel cold anymore.

"Would you like to tell me what's the cause of all these problems?" Dr. Samantha asked, the same small smile on her glossed lips.

I started hating that smile already. However, I needed to make an effort. I needed to get better.

The real question that floated around my mind was,

If I wanted to get better?

Did I?

Honestly, I didn't know. A big part was nagging at me to get out of here already.

"I love it when I make you smile," her smile was bigger than Texas, eyes beaming with glee and face flushed from the heat.