Emotional Traffic Series: Look After You (Louis Tomlinson Fic)

Chapter 5

Becca’s POV:

“And, how did that make you feel?”

“Is it supposed to make me feel good?” I crossed my arms over my chest, looking through my black rimmed glasses at the woman across from me. 

She sat in her leather arm chair, a notepad in her lap, her hair twisted up in a bun. She jotted something down on the notepad then looked back up at me, squinting her eyes.  “No, it’s not supposed to make you feel good.  But, how did it make you feel at the time?”

“Like a piece of shit,” I replied.  “There’s not really any other way to feel about. The man that I completely devoted my life to cheated on me.  Within a year of marrying him, he was already cheating on me.”

“You said that after you found out...you let it go on even longer.  Why?”

I looked down, picking at the hem on the inside thigh of my jeans with my freshly painted fingernails. “I guess…I was hoping that if I avoided it, it would go away?”

“How long did you know about it, before you confronted him?”

“Almost a month,”

“How did he react?”

“He said that he was in love with her, but he loved me more.  He swore that I’d always be the only for him and that I needed to stop being so selfish.”  I could feel the tears start to build up behind my eyes.

“What do you think he meant by that?  When he called you selfish…why would he say that?”

I rested my chin against my fist and looked away, then sighed as I felt the tears start to fall.  “I think we’re done for today.”

“Are you sure?” she leaned over in her chair and reached out to touch my knee. 

I nodded and stood to my feet, slinging my bag over my shoulder.  I moved past her and made my way to the door of her office.

“Rebecca,” she called after me and turned in her chair. “You need to reschedule, there’s a lot more that we need to cover.”

A lot more that we need to cover?  No.  Not gonna happen.   How did this middle aged woman expect me to sit in front of her and spill my guts about my sham of a marriage?  To sit and tell her every sordid detail about how Eric cheated on me and used me for every single thing he could get out of me? 

Why the fuck did I even sign myself up for therapy to begin with?  I should of known better!  My mother had always said that therapists were the most judge mental of people.   They get paid to sit and listen to people’s problems, she would say, it only helps them hide from their own problems.  Screw this.

I made it outside and started off down the crowded London sidewalk, I reached into my bag and pulled out my phone.  It was already 3pm and I had two texts waiting for me.