utopia ᵃᵐᵉʳⁱᶜᵃⁿ ʰᵒʳʳᵒʳ ˢᵗᵒʳʸ

[ 08 ] therapy is a personality trait

Maisie Warwick stared at Ben Harmon, her ankles were crossed as she laid on the couch. Therapy was so boring, people simply sat around talking about their endless problems.

Ben could see how much Maisie didn't want to be there — she wasn't particularly good at acting like she wanted to be there.

"Have you been feeling better?"

Maisie lifted her shoulders in a shrug. She hadn't really thought much about her feeling — except the ones that concerned her psychiatrists son.

"Have you made friends since we last spoke? Or felt less lonely?"

Ben watched the tiny smile appear on her lips. He assumed it was a good start. Maisie didn't smile in their sessions, but here she was smiling. 

"Your son, actually. He's a nice guy."

Victor and Maisie still hung out frequently. They enjoyed each other's company and surprisingly things hadn't been awkward. The two seemed to ignore their near kiss experience.

Ben Harmon knew his son. He knew Victor was what people described as a playboy/ fuck-boy — he was aware since they moved the boy hadn't changed. Ben wasn't sure if he should warn her not to fall in love — but he chose against it, it was not his business to get involved.

Maisie was a nice girl, and he wasn't worried about her becoming a killer any time soon — or at all. He doubted she'd be able to deal with the guilt of even considering it, let alone the actual act of murder.

"Really? You two are very different." He opted to say, watching her nod lightly.

There were of course differences, Maisie wasn't stupid, but differences shouldn't affect a friendship to much. She believed everyone deserved an equal opportunity in life and friendship, so with that belief she avoided judging people.

"That isn't a problem, right? I mean it doesn't affect our sessions."

"There's no problem, Maisie, at least not yet." Ben went on to say, quickly noting down her development in bonding with people outside of her uncles.

The session went on for a while, Maisie answered his questions with short answers. She only came because her uncles believed she should talk about some of her trauma — the bits she could get away with exposing with out scaring away the Harmons.

Maisie didn't want them to leave, so she was on her best (bored) behaviour. Ben Harmon seemed like a decent guy, Victor was her new friend and Violet seemed nice too.

Ben liked to recap her old questions. He asked her about her hobbies, and it seemed that there was no improvement.

Maisie still didn't have hobbies — she'd loved to go back to designing rooms and clothes maybe even baking. But since her death, doing things like that seemed pointless now or simply reminded her that she was never going to live her life again.

Being dead meant a lot of things. It meant Maisie was never going to be a mother, and she honestly always wanted a little child.

Maisie had planned her life as an adult around her nonexistent child. She'd work from home, as either a fashion designer or a interior designer (she personally preferred the latter and wanted to make clothes as a side hobby) and have her uncles help her. She knew Chad and Pat wanted a child, and so she believed they could play a big part in her child's life — she was going to let them choose if they'd rather be called uncle or grandad — so if she needed help she knew they'd help, wether it be at work or at home. She also knew she could hire people to work for her.

Ben noticed that her answers hadn't changed and came to a conclusion that maybe the teenager should be put on medication — something like antidepressants. He didn't think she was severely depressed, but he did believe that she have depression or something very similar. She had no motives, no reason. Everything Maisie said was painfully bland, like her life had come to a stand still and she needed something - anything - to bring her back to life. It was like she was a ghost.

"I want you to try taking these, only one a day, as I don't think that you are a danger too yourself or seem to want to kill yourself, but I think these could help."

A snort left her lips, Maisie placed a hand over her mouth to hide her amusement. "I'm so sorry." She whispered, moving to sit up.

"Right, it's okay. I don't think you are severely depressed, but I do think these will help."

She nodded in understanding, taking the orange tub of pills into her hand, reading the label before slipping it into the denim jacket of her blue shorts.

"Thank you, is there a time or day I should start?"

"You can start today, and take them at a time best for you."

"Yeah, no, give me an actual time."

"Why don't you have them in the morning when you wake up, so you can start tomorrow."

Maisie nodded, taking a pen of his desk and scribbling onto her wrist. She smiled up to Ben, before placing the black pen down on the table.

"That'll be all today, Maisie."

The teenager nodded, pushing herself out of the chair. She shook hands with Ben before telling him she could guide herself out of his office. He told her that was great, saying he had a client straight after her.

The second Maisie opened the office door she met the eyes of Tate Langdon. She assumed her heart would stop . . . again if it ever could beat.

Ben watched as the two stared into each other's eyes before Maisie walked past Tate, slamming her shoulder against him. Tate was knocked of balance slightly. He met Ben's eyes and gave him an awkward smile.