the desperate ones ✓

therapy with your boyfriend's sister

<Wednesday, 12:00 pm>

Abigail clicked her pen several times, tapping her notebook and watching Tyler shift nervously in his seat across from her. She smirked slightly when he tried leaning back to be casual and ended up almost flipping the chair over.

"Don't be so nervous, Ty," she teased. "This is a therapy session, not an interrogation."

Tyler huffed. "Feels like one."

"This is a safe space, Tyler." She looked and sounded so professional, even wearing her glasses rather than her contacts. He didn't know if it made him more or less nervous.

Abigail clicked her pen one final time, positioning herself to write. "So, Tyler, what brings you to this session today?"

Tyler scoffed. "You do."

"You could've said no, despite my constant nagging. Why did you say yes?"

"Because-" Tyler had to think about it. "I- I guess talking to someone would be better than talking to myself while no one's in the apartment."

Abigail's lips quirked. "You do that often?"

"Only when I'm in a really bad mood. I kind of- I yell at God? It's almost like I'm trying to get him to prove  to me he's real, even if it means me being struck down by lightning or a flood or whatever."

"You're religious?"

"Used to be."

Abigail scribbled something down. "And have you ever met with a therapist before, or sought treatment for your issues?"

Tyler scoffed. "As if my parents would let me. My dad didn't believe in mental illness, not even after-" he had to stop and take a breath. "Not even after what happened to my sister."

"Do you feel responsible for what happened to your sister, Tyler?" Abigail asked.

"Of course I do. She was my little sister, it was my job to protect her from this shitty world we live in." Tyler flinched. "Am I allowed to swear?"

Abigail laughed. "Sure, just don't make it excessive."

"Well, shit, my bitch ass is completely fucking damned."

She pointed her pencil at Tyler threateningly, but she was secretly smiling.

"Hey, you're fucking pushing it."

They laughed, but Abigail composed herself quickly. "Seriously, though. These sessions are supposed to help you express yourself and allow you to do so in a safe space, so you can use profanity as long as it's in the appropriate context."

"Okay, sorry."

"So, what problem, in your point of view, drove you to seeking out counsel?"

"Honestly? Everything." Tyler leaned back in his chair, rummaging through his thoughts. "It started when Josh disappeared, obviously. I dunno, I thought I'd gotten him back and then poof, he was gone again. I thought he was dead, so that would tally up to three people I loved that I couldn't save. Then my sister killed herself, and that was the final straw."

Abigail watched Tyler carefully, brows furrowing further and further. "We don't have control over who lives and who dies, Tyler."

"But I saved Josh and Pete, right?" His voice was getting louder and louder, but not enough to mask the memories of all the people he saw die in succession. "So why couldn't I do the same with Halsey? Or Ryan? Or Ashley? Or Madison?

His chest was rising and falling at a fast pace, but no air went into his lungs. He coiled in, trying to catch futilely his breath. Abigail stood and rushed to his side, helping him sit up.

"Mimic my breathing, Tyler," she said softly, rubbing his back. "In and out. In... and out... there we go."

Once the attack had passed, Tyler fell back into his chair and Abigail sat back down. He rubbed his face, tears stinging his eyes.

"I'm sorry, I've never done this before."

"It's okay," Abigail said. "Do you want to take a break, or would you like to continue?"

"Let's keep going. If Josh can do this, so can I."

She smirked and reached into her purse. "Speaking of Josh..."

Tyler's jaw dropped and he rolled his eyes. "You can't be serious."

Abigail pointed the nerf gun at him, shrugging casually. "Don't knock it til you try it. So, let me ask again. What problem brought you here?"

"Uh... I guess it's because I'm such a screwup. I chose a major I wasn't fit for, I got a job that I hated, and I screwed up any chance at being a psychologist."

Pow. One of the nerf bullets stuck to Tyler's left ankle. Tyler jumped and Abigail smiled innocently. "What the-"

"There are some things you cannot control," Abigail said. "Maybe you were meant for something different. Maybe you have a greater purpose that has nothing to do with psychology."

Tyler scoffed. "As if. I'm not capable of anything more than this."

Another nerf bullet his Tyler's forearm. "Ow! Are they- do they have suction cups on them?"

"Yep. Try again."

Tyler sighed. "Okay. Uh- I have potential?"

Abigail smiled. "Good. Now, where were we?"

They continued talking back and forth, exceeding their time by thirty minutes. Whenever Tyler would say something negative about himself or about his situation, another nerf bullet would latch itself onto him. Eventually, he was actively avoiding bad things to say because even though they're foam, they hurt like a bitch.

Slowly but surely, he started to feel positive. Abigail said it was because that the human mind can be manipulated easily. She explained that speaking and acting positively can eventually turn his whole outlook on life positive as well.

"So, I'm basically tricking my mind into being happy," Tyler said.

Abigail nodded, closing her notebook. "It's a tactic lots of therapists and counselors use because usually the situation is only as bad as you think it is."

"Great. Now, when's our next session?"