Broken Half: A Tom Holland Story

100 Times A Therapist Was Needed

Surprisingly, she laughs in my face. Not a small, reserved, chuckle to herself but, head back, full-bodied, laugh. Not gonna lie, it was nice to see her so happy and relaxed, but it also slightly put me on edge, because what I said wasn't funny.

"Why wouldn't you Tom?!" She says still chuckling, wiping an invisible tear from the corner of her eye, "Ah, that's comedy gold."

Nervous, I lean forward in my seat, "MJ... I'm honest. I don't mean to make fun of you-"

"Tom, have you seen me?" She asks, suddenly serious, her smile dropping, "I'm sorry but I thought we talked about this. I have a problems list longer than freaking Santa, and not to mention these last couple of days has been the most I have talked to people in years."

I make a face, raising my eyebrows, "What about your friend? I thought-"

Her face drops even more, which I didn't think was possible. "She moved." That's all she says at first, after a long pause. "Her name was Abby, and the only reason she talked to me was 'cause we had no one else to talk to..." Again she stiffly chuckles, "Between you and me, after she left... she kinda ditched me like an empty Greggs wrapper."

I lean back in my chair. It struck me that this kid probably hadn't had someone to talk to and vent to in years, and that was probably putting it lightly.

"It was practically jail." MJ continues, "The only difference between that and Stockwell, was we had kids instead of killers."

Not gonna lie, that comparison kinda struck me. And it must have shown on my face since MJ asked about it.

"What?"

I can't help but hold back my smile, "It just... your brain its-"

She sighs, "Listen, man, the only thing that's worse than my physical health is my mental health... That dark road is a story for a whole 'nother day."

I take a deep breath, "Listen. MJ. We have around a week or so till the premiere..."

She laughs at me, "Poor planning skills on your part, I'd say."

I ignore her and continue. I gotta say when the kid came out of her shell, she actually had a lot to say.

"Well since we have some spare time you want to get to know each other more? I mean, if you can paint we can do that, if you want to go to the golf course I'm decent at that." I quickly glance at my watch, "I mean hell since were done eating we can go right now-"

She looks up at me, slightly startled, adjusting in her chair. (We were still on the back patio, we hadn't moved at all.) "How'd you know I liked to paint?" Her voice comes out small.

I shrug, "I don't know, just a guess-"

She cuts me off, "No seriously. Did Ainsworth tell you?! I swear-"

I hold up my hands; apparently, painting was a touchy subject. "Hey, MJ. No, it's fine. It was just a guess, I swear... are you okay?"

She sighs and collects herself, "Yeah, I'm fine. It's just that I loved to paint. It was my favourite thing to do around with Abby actually. But after she left, Ainsworth took and burned all of my stuff. And I mean ALL of it. She wouldn't let me have anything... Just like a jail, I tell you."

I let out a heavy sigh, "Bloody Mary MJ, I'm sorry. I didn't know Stockwell was so rough.

She brushes it off like it's nothing. "But hey, now I'm out of that place and have a Marvel premiere to look forward to!"

Author's Note: Y'all thank you sm for 1K reads that's wicked xx... more parts coming soon ;)