I'd woken up early the next morning, and kicked a very hung-over Conner from my room, via the window, which he had grumbled about a great deal.
"I've got a therapy appointment." I'd told, right before he'd rolled over to ignore me, which led to me shoving him non-too-gently off of my bed.
[want to do something after your session today?]
I blinked in surprise at the message on my screen. I was sat in Dr Bran's waiting room, flicking through a magazine, not really expecting to hear from Conner until gone noon.
[what do you have in mind?]
[Idk, I just want to do something together]
[preferably somewhere we can talk]
[...it sounds like you're getting sappy on me]
[I am ;)]
[sure we can do something, but I want to go home and get changed first]
[wanna meet at two?]
[also thanks for everything last night]
[dw about it!]
[I owe you one]
[sounds good to me]
Just then the receptionist called out my name, making me look up. Sending off a quick goodbye message I put my phone in my pocket.
"She's ready to see you." The receptionist always acted like we didn't see each other several times a week. Maybe be it was to be professional?
"Thanks Mindy." I said, not even having to look at her ID badge. She was visibly surprised at getting an actual verbal response. I was getting better at talking to people I didn't already know really well.
I hid my proud smile (because it was a weird thing to be proud of myself for) and continued the familiar walk to Dr Brans office.
It went like it usually did, sometimes she still went back to the thumbs up, thumbs down system when I got to the point of being too frustrated to talk – and it still made me feel like a child – she still kept giving impromptu pep talks, that sometimes spiralled away from her until she was talking about something completely different than what she started out with.
But I felt less like shooting myself in the face every time she spoke, so something must be getting better.
At the end of out session Dr Bran gave me wide smile and closed her clipboard that she was taking notes on. I still understand what it was she could be writing on there, there hadn't been enough note worthy change in me apart from when I'd first began talking again, but she never stopped taking them.
I had a couple of messages waiting on my phone for me by the time I'd finished my therapy session. One was from my mum, which I decided to look at later, and the other one was from Conner.
It was just a heart emoji, which made me wrinkle my nose slightly. He'd spent a whole solid week just responding to all my messages with emojis during the beginning of our relationship because 'it was so us' (his words not mine). Half of the emojis had been either the heart emoji or the flowers one.
Deciding not to respond, I pocketed my phone. I forgot about the message from my mum until I was at mine. But then it was a little too late as it turned out.
"Charlotte!" My mum gave me an excited smile when she saw me come into the house. I frowned at the mugs she was holding on a tray. Three mugs of coffee.
YOU ARE READING
Muted LoveTeen Fiction
It's been seven months since 'the incident' and Charlotte hasn't spoken since. And she doesn't intend to. She's no longer the person she was a year ago, but now she's being forced my her mother to re-attend school for her last year. Surrounded by...