Chapter 174

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Trigger warning.

After endless persuasion Remington finally agrees to go to therapy. He doesn't even try to smile at Abigail when she opens the door, looking behind him, paranoid, before stepping into her house.

"Hi Remington," she greets, "I've heard things aren't going so well."

Remington sits down. "Things are shit," he says in a monotone voice. "The stalker is threatening to kill you, so there's that." It's the second time he's said it, and just like last time, it comes out before he has chance to stop himself saying it.

Abigail does her best to hide her shock. "You can't worry about that, Remington. Worry about yourself. I doubt he even knows where I live."

"No, he said he did. And how am I meant to not worry about it? I need you alive." Deep down, Remington knows the stalker probably doesn't know where his therapist lives. He knows he just said it to scare the boy. But God is it working.

"What have you been doing recently, Remington?" She changes the subject, seeing that if they keep talking about this he'll most likely give himself a panic attack.

The boy shrugs. "Nothing. Hiding, mostly."

Abigail frowns. "It's not healthy to hide yourself away. I understand that you're scared, and you have every right to be, but hiding away is only gonna mek you feel worse. Have you talked to anyone about how you're feeling?"

Remington shakes his head. "Andy and Sebby keep trying to get me to talk to them but...I'm not." He looks down. He knows it's not good for him to be acting the way he is. "I did explain to Emerson what it's like to be me, though."

"That's good. What did he think of it?"

Again, he shrugs. "He just kinda sat there. I don't know."

"Tell me what you've been doing to look after your mental health."

The question makes Remington feel ashamed of himself for how he's been behaving recently. "I haven't."

"You haven't?"

Remington shakes his head slowly. "No..."

"Okay. Can you tell me how you're feeling?"

"Like I'm having a permanent panic attack. I want things to go back to how they were when we were in Greece. I was so happy then. Everything was easy. My biggest issue was self harming, not anorexia, suicide, and a fucking stalker." He accidentally pulls his wedding ring off and it slips from his fingers onto the carpet. Remington bends down to pick it up and when he sits back up there's a figure right infront of him, and even though he has had enough halucinations to know that's what it is, he still squeals and covers his face, dropping the ring again. "No, no, no," he whispers, terrified of his own brain for making this happen.

Abigail leans forwards. "Remington, hey, look at me."

The boy brings his knees into his chest. "It's not real, it's not real, it's not-NO!" He screams, jumping when the figure pulls out a knife. It's Holly's knife. His blood is on the blade.

"Remington, you're safe. Look at me, you're safe."

"No! No! Please!" He buries his face into his knees. "Make him go away," he begs, "please make him go away."

"Breathe. In for three, out for three. Just breathe. You're safe here."

Remington does as he's told, focussing on Abigail's voice and not on what's inside his head. "There's no one there."

"That's right. There's no one there." Her voice is always so soothing. Remington finds comfort in it. "You're safe here."

"I'm safe here," Remington repeats, "do you promise?"

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