C H A C E'S P.O.V
"How are you feeling today Chace?" Dr. Aggarwal says, adjusting his round framed glasses as he reads over the notes he has made about me.
I'm in the middle of my one-to-one therapy session, sitting in my room on a chair.
"I'm fine," I reply and press the medicine ball on my palms over and over again, straining my wrists due to the excessive pressure applied.
Dr Aggarwal is my therapist, but he prefers to be called Vihaan since he finds it awkward when people call him by his last name. He is young to be forty nine, with thick black hair and minimal wrinkles around his eyes.
Jotting down some notes, he looks up at me.
"I understand it is difficult to talk about what we truly feel, especially when we have so much animosity and fear going on inside, but you might find it beneficial if you try talking about it."
I drop the ball to the ground, folding my arms and lean back in the seat, spreading my legs a little wider and relaxingly outstretch my right leg in front of me. I don't want to be here. The bravest thing I ever did was to call asking for help, without feeling ashamed.
I wanted help to get rid of the poison I have accumulated in so many years, I want to be free. I don't know why I think I'm being ridiculed and subjugated when I try to reveal the truth about myself.
"You won't understand," I mutter. "It's fucking ridiculous."
Vihaan leans forward with curiosity.
"What's ridiculous?"
I don't know if I should be specific.
"Love," I shrug. His eyebrows dip beneath his glasses.
"Why do you think it is ridiculous, Chace?"
He probably won't understand if I tell him, which might be an escape for me to elaborately explain why it sucks.
"The way it makes you question."
Vihaan takes a sip of his tea, crossing a leg.
"Questions about your capability of feeling it? Or the inability to convey it to someone?"
It is my turn to lean forward with curiosity. "That is one way to put it, Yeah."
"What is it about love that scares you?"
I consider what he said for a while.
Throughout my childhood, I've watched my parents fight, clawing each other out I did not want to land up like them. I think back to all the swings, punches, the cursing, shouting and how I bled inside. "Me feeling it not being able to say it."
It is weird for me to talk about it. Two weeks have gone by without Hurricane, I want to grab my phone and call her back. She was the only person who made me want to trust her.
The only person I was close to revealing bits and pieces of my miserable, fucked up childhood and the impact it has had on me.
Vihaan scribbles down some notes. "Why are you not able to say it?"
"You already know the answer to that, I'm not obliged to repeat myself again."
His hazel green eyes shine with tolerance. I don't care if he loses his shit on me, I've never been the type to sit in one place and listen to a stranger give me life advices. "Let's talk about your parents."
"I told you everything, they mean nothing to me."
"Of course they don't mean anything to you, but they could be the reason why they conditioned you to think like this. Emotions play a crucial role based on what we do in our day to day activities, Chace."
"I'm not human then," I slouch back in my seat.
"I get it," Vihaan responds empathetically. "I'd like to know if there is anyone in your life who is special to you. Is there a special someone whom you just met?"
"You won't be interested," I tell him,rubbing my swollen knuckles on my thighs. "It won't be of concern to you, what so ever. Believe me."
He sips his tea and places it on top of the plate. "Why would you say that?"
"It's true." I pinch the skin on my knuckles, deeper, feeling the blood split open, slithering with alleviation. "There's no point in trying to figure me out. I'm about to pass out from my teens and it is too late to change the way I perceive. I'm not your business, neither is my life. What if my treatment with you is over and I go back to being a lot more screwed up than I already am? It is of no use."
"I'm not figuring you out, Lambert," he denotes. "I want to cure you. I want to make you feel better and get well soon. I don't want to give up on you. You wouldn't be sitting here in front of me, if you thought this treatment wouldn't be of any use to you. Don't look at it as a treatment. See me as a confidante. Baby steps. You telling me this much is an achievement. Give it a shot."
"Cure me? I'm positive this is isn't going any fucking where. I'm not going anywhere. This is getting too much for me, I don't want your sympathy. Can I leave now?" I say, grabbing onto the sides of my chair getting ready to leave. He signals for me to sit back down. "Fine, we don't have to talk about yourself then. But I want to know something." I lower myself back into the chair, focusing my gaze on him with mild irritation. "Depends what that "something" is." He taps his feet against the floor, carefully planning to frame the question.
"Is there someone, other than your friends Jaden and Reed, whom you enjoyed spending time with?"
My pulse speeds erratically, I feel her hands on my shoulders, sunshine blonde hair caressing my face, her stormy blue eyes gleaming with serenity. Enjoyed? Spending time? I'm in a loss of words. "It was a lot more. I don't know how to describe it." Vihaan looks as if he found a theorem to a complicated math problem. "Did he or she mean something to you?" I sigh with frustration. "Is there an option?" I ask, answering his question with a question. He lightly chuckles, chewing the tip of his thumb. "Silence is golden, Chace. I already have my answer."
"It's a she," I mutter exasperatedly. "And yes she did mean something to me, but only for a short span." Liar, Hurricane teasingly whispers , making place for her to sit on Vihaan's table. If that is the case, why is it you can't get my name out of your beautiful head?
This is driving me insane, I get up without asking his permission. I need a distraction. I need a smoke. He jots down a few notes, tucking his pen in between the pages of his notebook before shutting it close. "Keep it up, Chace. We have made some progress today, and the results will continue to improve with every day passing by. Tomorrow, same time, eight thirty am sharp."
Pulling open the door, I stride outside. Rummaging through my pockets, I light a cigarette in my mouth and lean against the chill bricks, the nicotine calming my nerves. Her eyes are the same. Her hair is the same. Her smile is radiant, intensity to burn. My stomach rolls as I can see her pushing her lithe body against mine, index finger drawing traces through my abdomen. Exhaling a raged shallow breath, the heat of her gaze makes me go numb. Hurricane is next to me, pressing her lips against my cheek and blocks my way, our mouths colliding, restoring the lost passion that I thought was lost.
"Never tell me I deserve better. I don't. I deserve you." She says daintily, supporting her head against my chest. I have no strength to get over her because she is my strength. My only hope. Do I love her? Hurricane disappears within a blink of an eye, without giving me time to think of what to say to her.