Falling

37

TRIGGER WARNING: mention of self harm

Vinny Taylor

To say things were rocky between Carson and me over the last week was an understatement. We hadn't spent much time alone at all, and when we did, it was spent making out and not talking. I could tell he felt guilty about what had happened, but any time I thought he was going to bring it up, I just changed the subject or kissed him.

It made me a coward, but at that point I didn't care. I would rather him forget about what happened and for the two of us to go back to normal, but it wasn't that easy. I still felt some anger toward him, he felt guilty, and now there was a lack of trust between us.

Logan seemed to think that us going out with he and Dana would solve some of our problems, so that was where I was being forced to go after being forced to my first therapy session on Friday afternoon.

Dad got out of work early to bring me to therapy. He had called all over, trying to get me a spot as soon as possible and eventually found one that was taking new patients. Either he wanted to be here for moral support or he didn't trust me enough to drive myself to therapy.

"How are you feeling?" he asked as we sat in the waiting room.

"Fine," I replied, my tone slightly agitated.

"Are you nervous?" he asked.

I let out a sigh. "No, Dad."

I wouldn't call what I was feeling at the moment nerves. It was more like discomfort and dread. I didn't want to talk about my feelings. I didn't want someone asking me a bunch of questions.

"Vincent Taylor?" a petite woman called out. "Dr. Brown is ready for you."

"I'll wait right here for you," Dad said as I stood up from the chair. I nodded at him before following the woman out of the waiting room and down the hall where a taller woman stepped out of an office.

"Is this Vincent?" she asked, looking between me and the other woman with a kind smile.

I nodded at the woman who I assumed was Dr. Brown.

"My name is Annalise Brown," she said, extending her hand for me to shake. "You can call me Annalise or Dr. Brown, either is fine."

I shook her hand. "I go by Vinny."

"Great," she said, opening her office door. "Come on in, Vinny."

As I walked into her office, I looked around the room. The walls were painted a muted tan, but there were numerous colorful paintings hanging up. There was an overwhelming amount of places to sit. A couch was pushed up against the far wall and there were all sorts of different chairs littered throughout the room.

"Please sit anywhere you're comfortable," Dr. Brown said. "Or you can stand if that's most comfortable."

I sat down at the chair in front of her desk. Dr. Brown dragged her chair from behind the desk and sat across from me so that we were both in front of it, no barrier between us. I couldn't tell if I was comforted by the act or put on edge.

"So, Vinny," Dr. Brown started, crossing one of her legs over the other. "What's your favorite thing to do?"

The confusion I felt must have shown on my face because Dr. Brown let out a laugh.

"I like to get to know the people I'm going to be working with," she said. "All of this is a lot more meaningful when it's about all of you, not just about the parts of you you're here for."