RED ROOM [H.S]

50.

Harry.

The room had a strange sense of calmness to it. The only sound was the distant sound of the clock ticking, along with the steady drumming of my fingers against the leather arm of the couch.

I didn't make eye contact, my eyes were drawn to the framed certificates on the walls, highlighting great achievements. It was a distraction, a way to keep my mind at ease and I endured what was coming.

I didn't want to be here, it was making my heart race and my palms sweat. I didn't like not feeling as if I was in control, but I knew I had to be here. I didn't have a choice.

My mind had been all sorts of places lately, but no where near the sort of calmness I craved to be able to survive. Instead, I did anything I needed for a distraction. Coming here, included.

"When did the voices start again?"

Her voice was soft, too soft. Like she was trying to dismantle a bomb with just the tone of her voice. It irked me. I cracked my knuckles and stifled a sigh of annoyance. Inside, my brain rattled with too many thoughts, many of which I couldn't get a solid grasp on because they were running away from me too fast. I shut my eyes briefly as the voices came back.

Don't tell her.

She doesn't need to know.

She'll try and stop you.

Gritting down my teeth, my gaze flickered to to woman, eying her with caution. I didn't know if I could trust her. She was a stranger after all, despite it being in her job description to keep everything I said in the professional environment. She stared back at me, patiently waiting for a response. I didn't know what she already knew about me, but I knew it must of been a lot if she knew about the voices.

I felt as if that was against protocol, since when were they allowed to know past history? Then again, what did I even know these days. I didn't know anything.

Cracking my knuckles again, I made brief eye contact with her before I had to look away.

"When she left."

The woman nodded. I felt like I should of asked her name to be polite, to stop referring to her as the woman but I really didn't care for pleasantries. I wanted her diagnose. I wanted her medication referral and then I wanted to leave. I didn't want her to get to know me. I didn't need another person thinking they could fix me when they couldn't.

I had things to do, many of which consisted of finalising my plans to find Sophia. I still didn't have the slightest of clues of where she was and it had been just over a month. My fingers squeezed at the leather arm of the couch as the thoughts of it settled in my head.

"And are they worse than they were before?"

I cracked my neck. "Define worse."

"Are they more frequent, Harry?"

I didn't like the sound of my name on her lips. I shook my head. "No."

Yes.

She nodded thoughtfully, and I could tell she didn't believe me. She must be good at her job if she could see past my lies. I pursed my lips.

"And how are you coping with Sophia leaving?"

I winced, my eyes darting around the bland room. "You make it sound like she's not coming back," I said stiffly. I didn't like that. There was always hope of her coming back. The game hadn't ended just yet. "Why?"

The woman's eyes burned into the side of my head, but I refused to meet the pity in her gaze. It would of been enough to make me snap on the spot, and I knew that wouldn't be beneficial for anyone. Niall had done a lot to get me to come to this appointment and I don't think making my new therapist disappear would solve any of my problems. It would just increase my workload.