Late Eighteen

29| Chapter twenty nine

I'm deeply sorry for the late update sweeties, please bare with me. I gat exams coming up and things are just plain tight! You have every right to be angry with me, because this was barely an excuse. All in all, please forgive me. x.

Anyway, Team Ezekiel or Team Micheal?

BTW, I'm expecting ship names o. Lol.

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"Tell me, how do you cope with your nightmares?" My therapist inquired, placing her hands on the top of her wooden table before looking at me with old squinted eyes.

Honesly, I'm still trying to comprehend the exact reason my mum had to take me for therapy.

In her own words, she sees me as "a damaged nicoompoop who needs a touch of holy water'.

I didn't even try to ask to ask why she didn't take me to a prophet, instead of wasting her precious money on a seventy year old woman with four dysfunctional eyes.

People think therapists and motivational speakers can help with their psychological problems.

But they lie.

All they do is sit in an office, attending to clients with spiritual problems, whilst eating on their own death bed. Hell, they even have more problems than their client.

I cleared my throat and moved my plastic chair closer to her. "I don't cope with the nightmares ma, I only try to regulate them so they don't pop up every night."

She nodded her head, tapping her blue pen on the table loudly. She sighed and leaned against her chair, further pushing up her glasses to the bridge of her nose. "Can you explain to me how that. . . Incident happened that night?"

Again?

I scrunched my eyebrows up in a frown as j tried not to glare into her eyes. "But ma, I have explained this for atleast four times in the last one week."

"I want to hear it again." She responded coldly.

I gritted my teeth as I tried not to snap at her. I'm positive that we've gone through this conversation for more than four times and it's not even up to a week yet. If you're sure you have such bad memory, why not resign?

She knows damn well the emotional trauma I pass through whenever I tried to relate what had happened that night, yet here she goes telling me to tell her all over again.

I sighed and started narrating everything again. "Well, it happened when I went out with friends—"

She held up a finger to me. "What happened?"

My eyes widened as I tried not to relieve the memories. It just hurts, it hurts so much. Unfortunately, I got an heartless therapist who does the exact opposite of the job she was paid to do.

She's the first therapist I would come across that derives pleasure from putting her clients through emotional torture. For God's sake, you're supposed to help them be a better person, not discourage them further!

"It happened. The night I was raped— that was what happened." I blinked to prevent the tears from rolling down my eyes.

The last thing I need right now is a wicked and irritated therapist yelling at me.

"Okay, please go on. Be fast with it too, I don't have all day, I have clients waiting for me outside as we speak."

I rolled my eyes but continued talking. "I was pressured by my friends to go to a party with them even after I told them I didn't want to. I also knew I couldn't ask my parents for permission to attend a party because they would never permit me to so. . . I- I sneaked out."