book 1 of 4
ever since bianca 'b' prescott was born, she was told that she was the fairest of them all. and like any, the island's very own kook princess had a reputation- she was stubborn and shallow and most of all, she was a spoiled bitch. but ev...
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"I wanna go back to the topic of guilt today."
Bianca glanced up at the rehabilitation counsellor, Felicity Hamilton, as they sat around a circle in hard, plastic chairs.
"It might surprise you to hear me say that guilt is a good thing," Felicity smiled softly through her spectacles, hands clasped in her lap, "It's a rather mature emotion."
Bianca had to stifle a scoff- there was nothing mature about feeling guilty. It was a nauseating feeling that Bianca didn't even know existed until the beginning of summer. But now she wished every single person that resided on the Outer Banks– Shoupe, the entire police force was drowning in it. If guilt was mature, she hoped Rafe was rotting in his own consciousness, his sins eating him from the inside out and that her father and Ward were choking on the aftermath.
"Bianca," Felicity suddenly piped up, forcing the girl to turn to her, "You said something about guilt the other day- you said it came with a visceral reaction."
"I said it made me feel sick," Bianca deadpanned, crossing her arms over her chest.
"Guilt often becomes physical," The counsellor nodded along, "You feel it in your gut, it's not just psychological," Bianca tuned her out, after that, rolling her eyes at the shit she was spewing.
Vaguely, she could here Felicity speak to the circle, "How does guilt make you feel?"
Someone, a girl Bianca hadn't cared to remember the name of name, continued, "Nervous."
"Like a sense of urgency," Mrs Hamilton continued, "You feel an urgent need to make up for something you've done, to apologise. These are all healthy responses-"
"Uh- sorry to interrupt your session, Mrs Hamilton," One of the orderly's interjected quickly, "But we have an urgent visitor for Bianca."
At this, Bianca's eyebrows furrowed, she wasn't expecting anyone and the few visits she'd had were from her father.
"B, off you go," Felicity sent her a small smile, "I'll see you tomorrow, won't I?"
"Yeah," Bianca dismissed, grateful to leave more than anything. Whoever the visitor, she was glad to get out of her daily group session that drove her absolutely insane.
Bianca mostly kept to herself, refraining from starting up conversations with the other patients–– or inmates as she liked to call them. The Recovery Centre was more of a prison than anything, they took away most of her belongings and had strict timings for gatherings, but she supposed for their safety of those less mentally stable than her, it was for the best.
Upon assessment, Bianca should've been cleared of any addictive tendencies or withdrawal symptoms and her examinations were evidence of that. She was compliant, complacent and followed instruction without a hassle. However, she didn't have control over her own autonomy nor did the psychologists apparently because no matter how many times they checked in on her–– and acknowledged she was doing better than okay, they kept postponing her release.
