"How are you feeling?"
"Numb. Totally and utterly numb." I answer, playing with my fingers as my therapist jots down my answer.
I had been talking to her since Liv died, begging the college to get someone in to talk to me. I only wanted to see her once, I only asked for one session but she insisted on seeing me and she continues to see me every week. It helps me speaking to someone that I know won't and physically can't tell anyone what I say to her. I know she doesn't understand; the only stuff she knows is what the textbooks have told her but just ranting to someone really fucking helps.
"What's on your mind at this current moment in time?" She asks, tilting her head as she looks at me.
"Nothing but also everything. It's like there is so much stuff in my head I can't simply focus on one thing so it all just becomes nothing."
Her eyebrows furrow, I know I confuse her on my answers sometimes; to be honest I didn't even understand them most times.
"Can you elaborate on that, tell me what them thoughts in the background are."
"What I am going to do when my dad dies, what really happened to Olivia, why is my life so fucked up and why am I like this." I say, I don't even really think about what is coming out of my mouth.
My head is so full everything just comes out because it needs space, like when you're clearing out a cupboard; getting rid of the out of date food or the stuff you just never eat and make place for the new food. It's a weird description but it's the only one I can really use to fully describe what I actually feel like. I often compare my mental health to everyday life stuff, it helps me and her understand a lot better.
I continue to rant to her, not really fully aware of what I was saying to her. All she does is nod and ask a question, jotting stuff down to what I imagine to be "this lass is off the fucking rails, get her to a mental institution ASAP". I don't know why I think people think so lowly of me, perhaps because I think so lowly of myself I assume everyone else does too. It's sad really, like my life is just one big sad song.
Immediately when the hour long session comes to an end I rush out, uttering only a simple bye, feeling embarrassed for a reason that I still am unaware of. Maybe the fact that I've just spilt my guts to a stranger.
I normally do this, she's used to it and not once have I ran into any complications whilst making my getaway. I make sure no one sees me leaving her office and today I literally ran into the complication into todays escapade and he has a very hard shoulder.
I look at him in horror, trying to get past him but his hand grabs my arm which due to my rapid weight loss it manages to fit around my whole bicep.
"What were you doing in there?" He questions and my gaze stays fixed to the ground.
"Just because you helped me last week doesn't mean you get to know everything." I almost snap, just wanting to get away and take my free period in the library like usual. Why is he ruining my weekly routine?
"Oh my god do you go to counselling?" He asks, a smirk making its way up on his face.
I almost forgot he was a complete dickhead who had no remorse and was full of himself.
"Oh my god are you a complete fuck-nut?" I mimic his accent terribly, I sound like a three-year old and it gives him more of a reason to make fun of me.
My heart was beating way too fast, it was completely normal for people to need to speak to someone and with the shit I'm going through it was inevitable I would need to just rant. He has no idea and this is why you should try to be nice to everyone, you don't know the buttons you are pushing and one of them might just lead to suicide.
My mind was rushing to think of a lie and I just hoped he would believe me.
"No. Now you have to answer my question." He crosses his arms across his chest, intensifying his muscles and I had to stop myself from staring.
"No, I was getting Olivia's file to give to her parents." Why did I have to bring her into this? "And you lied, you are a complete fuck-nut."
I try to walk away, to the library where I desperately want to be where Gloria will shush him from trying to talk to me, or just hit him over the head with the book but obviously I have to be realistic.
I was beginning to think he was nice, that because he was popular I stereotyped him and that I had just caught him on a few bad days but apparently he is a dickhead and this is proved by him smirking over the fact that he found out someone has therapy. Can just one person in this place be nice for a change?
"Lauren. Lauren. Lauren. Lauren. Laur-"
"What the fuck do you want?" I shout, turning around in anger.
"Sorry, I forgot the slightest of things could trigger mental people."
Before I even realise it my fist was connecting to his eye socket and a cracking (not from his face but my hand) and a shout from a very angry head teacher was heard.
"Lauren McGuiness! Bradley Simpson! My office now!"
He was clutching his eye, a mark already beginning to show up and I was holding my hand; I'm pretty sure the punch was that forceful I had actually put my thumb out of place but it was totally worth it. He was a cunt and I was going to explain that to my best extent without using that word or any other curse word that could get me in even more trouble than I already was.
As we reached his office, I had a full speech prepared in my head but as soon as the question about what had happened was asked once again my inner three-year old was brought out.
"He started it."
hey guys, sorry this didnt go up yesterday ive had a lot of stuff going on and obvs im writing another book sort of based on it; not completely but writing really helps me get over shit. and of course its another brad fic.
