Annalisa Green -- September 19th, 1994 Location: 4325 Sunset Blvd Unit 206; Silver Lake Psychology
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--- (-usually I'd edit a baby bump into a picture, but I didn't feel like it.💀 so do what Spongebob said best: Use Your Imaaaaginaaatioooonnnn 💋)
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Dr. Harrington paid us no mind as we took turns talking to one another, like she directed us to do every time our session started. She said that it would help us improve our communication skills a lot, and I have to say that it has been working for the most part.
Michael wasn't feeling good for a few days, so we missed out on a few sessions. Luckily, Dr. Harrington understood and since we were her 'favorite' clients, she let us off the hook.
I knew for a fact that Michael was still feeling the blues after his argument with Joseph a few days ago, and I understood. Joseph wasn't the easiest person to deal with, nor was he a good person period. In my eyes, that man was the Devil's Advocate. A fire breeding man from Hell. And I hated that Michael had to endure, what I'm sure was, his abuse over the years.
I've always noticed his demeanor when close to Joseph. How timid he'd get. And how he'd literally shrink in size around him. It was how I'd behave whenever Joe came around, unbeknownst to my aunt and uncle, the many years before he died. Those were definite traits of an abused child.
I'd hoped to learn just a bit more about Michael's past in this session, if he's willing to talk about it. I hope Dr. Harrington could get it out of him. I noticed that she has a way with words, and she has this facial expression she makes, that makes you want to tell her your entire life story.
The actual timer on her phone blared several times, letting us know that our time was up. I gave Michael a reassuring smile, as he gazed at me nervously, before I settled my attention on her.
"I've noticed that your communication skills are getting better already. Bravo." She commended us with a sly smile.
"Thank you." I smiled back.
She glanced at Michael, becoming quite serious. "And how are you doing, Michael? Are you feeling better?"
I kept a strong hold on his hand, squeezing ever so softly. I didn't want to look at him as well and make him feel like he was 'on the spot', - even though he was - so I kept my eyes on our hands instead.
It took him a small time to answer. "Um... um, no. Not really."
"Can you tell me why?" She pried. Michael gave her a sad expression, as if he was silently begging her to let it go. He didn't want to answer. And instead of letting it go, Dr. Harrington swapped her question with a new one. "How about this: How are you feeling right now, at this moment?"
