He was younger than I expected. He had much more living to do. So why a therapist? Why spend your life worrying about others when you still have time for yourself? He was tanned, not from here then. Clean shaven, blue eyes, calloused hands- a wedding ring. I looked at his desk, him and a woman: blonde, no surprise there.
"So why are you here?" He said to me. He had my notes right there in front of him. "It says here we discharged you, that you were showing visible signs of recovery...you were getting better. So why now?"
I looked up at him. "I'm looking for new ways of coping."
"And let's just say these new method were unsuccessful. What's your alternative?" He was full of these questions.
"Death, I guess." I whispered.
He sat silent for a moment, the clock ticked on his desk. The patronising click click click.
"I want you to tell me everything."
"Everything?"
"Take me right back to where this all started. The first domino, the bottom step. Your earliest recollection of life-changing sadness."
I took a breath.
"My dad was shot in a hit and run when I was 10."
CZYTASZ
Wonderland
Krótkie OpowiadaniaShe was always different. See the story of a damaged teen unfold while one man does his best to save her from her previous troubles threatening to chase her to the grave.
