XXVIII

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Hope stares at the small embroidered pillow in her lap

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Hope stares at the small embroidered pillow in her lap. She frowns at the tiny strand of thread sticking out, too small to pull out.
That doesn't stop her from trying though.

"Hope, do you feel like talking today?" The therapist sits opposite to her with a notebook and pen in hand.  "Whatever you wanna say, whenever you want to say it. I'm here to listen."

The blonde scoffs and returns her attention to the pillow. "No, you're here to listen and then report back to my parents."

"Nothing you say in here will leave this room. Trust me."

Her lips curl into a deep frown "Trust you? What exactly have you done to earn my trust?" It's a rhetorical question and they both know it.

"Okay, so you don't trust me." A few strands of grey hair fall from the therapists bun as she nods. "Who do you trust then?" Hope remains silent, her eyes on fire with anger. "Your parents? Your brothers? Your friends? Who?"

"No one." She whispers it, like admitting this took something away from her and her shield. "I trust no one."

"That sounds like a lonely life." Her tone is steady, stern but calm.

"I'm better off alone." Hope raises a shaky hand to her lips and begins to pull at the skin. "I complicate things."

"Interesting."

"What?" Her voice is angry once again as she glares at the woman sitting in front of her.

"When I spoke to your brothers, they told me that's what you said a couple night ago. Right before you didn't leave your room for days." She ignores Hope's defensive stance and continues on. "They were really worried about you."

"They freaked out over nothing, why else do you think I'm here?" Hope rolls her eyes, picking more harshly at the pillow thread.

The therapist nods to herself and puts her notebook on the table next to her. "I'm going to ask you a question and you're going to answer and then I going to tell you if you're right or wrong." She waits for Hope to nod before continuing. "Are you okay?"

"Yes." Hope answers immediately before she could even finish the question.

"Wrong." The therapist smiles sadly at her.

"Who the hell are you to tell me what I am?" Hope growls, "You don't know me! You think because you talked to some people and wrote in your little notebook that you know who I am? You don't !"

Hope (ONE TREE HILL)Where stories live. Discover now