The Difference Between Fear and Terror

Untitled Part 17

"Miss Sorenson, how are you feeling?" Great. Just perfect. North must've not liked my answers so he sent in Mr. Blackbourne to interrogate me. "I'll be f-fine." He look at me with a critical gaze before approaching. "No Sang, how are you feeling now?" Why can't he just accept that I'm avoiding the question? "I'm t-tired and hungry." It is hard to convince someone that you feel fine while you stutter. "I'll talk to Dr. Green about getting you some food." I nod in appreciation. "Th-thank you."

"We need to have a serious conversation." I don't respond, silently urging him to get on with it. " We need to get you to a psychologist." I shake my head repeatedly. "N-no." His face softens and he sits down on the chair next to the bed. "Why not?" The way everyone is speaking to me like I'm a china doll is slightly off-putting. "I can't do it. I can't." I mumble incoherently. "Why can't you do it?" He is going to think I'm too broken to be fixed. They are going to leave me.

"I can't relive it." The emotion that comes across his face is a mixture of sympathy and rage. "Will you try for me? Just one appointment then we will figure something else out."

...

Oh god, why did I agree to this? He is going to be here any moment.I can't do this. I can not possibly do this.

A young man comes into the room. If I didn't know better I'd say he was too young to be a doctor. He seems to have a bubbly disposition. He is wearing a large smile, but it isn't offensive. He just seems like an overall nice, happy person.

"Hi, I'm Doctor Setters." He sticks his hand out. I place mine delicately in his. "S-sang." I swing my legs on the side of the bed, feeling awkward. "Well nice to meet you Sang. Do you want to go for a walk? There's a nice garden." I nod in approval before jumping off the bed. After who-knows-how-long of sitting and kneeling a walk sounds amazing. He holds out his hand but makes no move to grab it. I slowly reach for it discovering that touching is easier when i am in control.

We walk in silence down to the garden. The sun shines bright and warm. It is nice. "W-when is it?" It is a question I've been wondering since I've got here. "It is May 23." I do the math quickly in my head. One year and six days.

"How are you feeling?" If I am being forced to talk to somebody I might as well be honest. Maybe in the slight chance I get fixed, the boys won't leave me. "Exhausted." It is the best way to describe my feelings at the moment, both mentally and physically. I am half expecting him to ask me how I'm feeling about that. But he doesn't.

We sit on a bench in comfortable silence. Until he just has to break it. "What do you want to do?' The question is confusing. "What? When? Why?" He chuckles a bit at my confusion, realizing his poorly worded question. "What do you want to do right now? Or in a year? Or in five? As for why, because I'm a psychologist, it's my job to ask you random questions." I crack a small smile at the last portion. 

"I just want things to go back to n-normal. I wa-want to finish school, maybe go to college." He continues to ask me random questions about my future, or really weird things like my favorite color. Something about his demeanor just makes me comfortable with him.

"I hear you get to go home in the morning." First I've heard, but I act like I knew. "I'm sure your family can't wait to spend time with you." What family?

"So what all have you done today?" I have to think for a moment. I don't know when yesterday ended and today began. "Um, well I woke up, talked a bit, ate, slept, and now I'm here." He is either over-analyzing what I said or matching it up with what Mr. Blackbourne told him.

"How did you sleep?" Badly. "Eh." I can tell that wasn't the response he was looking for, but I really don't want to have this conversation. "What made it 'eh'?" Can we go back to talking about my favorite color or where I want to go to college? "Nightmare."

"What was it about?" Just the thought of having to share it makes my heart beat fast. I clench my fists and black starts to creep into my vision. I can't seem to catch my breath.

There is a snap in front of me. "Sang." I look up. "Dinner should be up in your room, do you want to go back upstairs?" I am taken away from my impeding anxiety attack by the prospect of food. I think he knew the effect the conversation was having on my, so he ended it suddenly. Anyways, I'm not about to complain about that.