Her Therapist

Chapter 11.

SEBASTIAN

"I won't take a shower in your fucking house!", the aggressive girl that was so calm while she was sleeping, and that has started to go on my nerves slowly but surely shouts and pats the ground with her bare foot, resembling a little child.

"I will be preparing breakfast, and you take a shower, it's not like I will be taking a shower with you, Larsson", I groan and roll my eyes. She irritates me so much, and she is so tiring, and I don't think that I can take her anymore.

But I have to. 

I need to. 

For her.

Not for me.

She needs help, and I am a helper. A therapist.

Her therapist. 

"I don't need any breakfast, I am not hun...", she stops mid-sentence when her stomach makes a sound. I chuckle, and she lifts her head to shoot me a glare. I sigh and shrug.

"I don't think that your stomach agrees on that, Larsson."

"Oh, it does, Tomlinson. It does."

It growls again, and I grin, biting the inner side of my cheek to stop myself from laughing, "Then, why is it growling like that?"

"It's just that", she averts her gaze, forming and thinking of a lie, and once she does she turns her eyes back on me, "sometimes it makes weird sounds. It's just that. It's like it is broken." She shrugs and snorts for a second. I want to pull back the thing I've said about her irritating me. She is cute sometimes. But the key word is sometimes. 

"Right", I decide to let out a small chuckle. "Come here", I gesture for her to join me, as I enter the bathroom. I turn to see that she is peeking through the door, leaning on its frame. "Come, I don't bite. I told you I will just turn on the water since this is some weird mechanism", I explain, showing on the buttons and screens that require some passwords. 

"I still don't believe this is his house", she mumbles in her chin, but I manage to hear every word she says. "Hey", she squeaks, and I turn to her while trying to make the water is hot enough, but not too hot or too cold, "I don't wanna take a shower."

"Why?" You can lock the door, and I promise I won't come in."

From the experience, I know that some women can be scared of men seeing them naked. but Esther isn't a woman. She is a child. The one that acts like a brat. 

"I don' wanna take a fucking shower!", she protests and again pats the flor with her foot this time harder. 

"Why not?", I repeat the question on which I haven't gotten any answer, turning off the water, sighing, and turning to her. "When was the last time you took a shower?"

Again from the experience from the university, I know that people who are in depression refuse to take care of their hygiene and neglect it to the point where they can suffer from some serious disease due to the hygiene. And right now I think that could be Larsson's case which is noting shameful, just something that needs to be treated and prevented. 

"Um, I..."

"You can tell me if you don't take showers, that's nothing to be ashamed of..."

"I wanna go!", she squeaks and for a second I thought that she was about to cry, but when she frowns and starts nibbling the inner side of her cheek, I realize that she is trying not to repeat the mistake she made yesterday. 

"You will go with me to the war..." Before I can finish the sentence, she is again banging on the door, and I sigh, getting out of the bathroom. 

"Help!", she screams, punching with her fists. "Where the fuck is a lock here?", she mumbles for herself. 

"It locks automatically from the inside and only I can unlock it with my password", I explain, leaning on the wall. I yawn and run my hand through my hair. It must be late, who knows for how long have I been playing with her. 

She turns to me abruptly, surprised, "What is this place? It doesn't look like a normal house."

"It's an apartment in a very elegant and rich building", I explain.

"Cocky idiot", she murmurs, and I act as if I didn't hear her insult. I turn on my heel, now not caring anymore if she is going to bang on my door. I just hope she stops soon, tires herself, and joins me in the kitchen.

As I enter the living room and turn into the kitchen I glance at the big silver clock that is hung on the wall above the elegant fireplace that I rarely use since I have radiators, too that I use more. A fireplace is more romantic for me, for couples, not for the solo man like me. I widen my eyes and sigh when I see that it is already eight o'clock. Shit, I am going to be late if Esther doesn't decide to act less stubborn. But, I guess that takes time, just like it took Wendy to go on a first date, and give a chance to another man. Which was sooner than I'd expected, actually. She is one brave and intelligent woman, and I admire her for the effort she is putting to feel better. Unlike someone.

Speaking of my ginger patient, that made my best friend drink, or I'd just like to think that was a reason, I will need to call the safe house and check up on her, and also to arrange our appointment. I just hope that her ex arrival won't ruin everything that she has made in these six past months. 

I feel someone's presence when I open the fridge, and I glance at them over my shoulder. The aggressive girl is biting her lower lip and covering her bare legs with one another. I clear my throat to make her look at me and suppress the grin or chuckle that is forming in my mouth. 

"What do you want to eat?"

"I..."

"Here, come, choose. I'll make it for you."

She parts her lips, and sighs, coming closer, and once she approaches the fridge, she gasps, surprised. She turns her gaze to me, the expression on her face puzzled, as her eyes are slightly glowing, or is that the sun's ray coming from the windows that I should have closed, and put blinds on last night. 

"All of this, um, is, um, y-yours?"

"And whom else do you see here, Esther, hm?"

"I... I don't know, perhaps you live with your parents."

I don't have them, the sentence is stuck in my throat.

"No, I don't", I say instead. 

"Oh, okay, then with some roommate or a girlfriend." No bitterness in her voice, nor any sign of jealousy as she pronounces the last word.

"No, I don't have either of that. I'm all alone", I chuckle nostalgically. 

"Oh, okay, so all this food belongs to y-you?" She approaches the fridge, and reaches to touch the milk box, but stops herself. Then she turns to me, her expression still surprised, and her pale lips parted. 

"Yes, it's all for me. Why are you so surprised, Larsson?" I grab eggs, and milk, placing them on the counter. "Do you want an omelet? O-or something else?"

"I... um... I've never seen this much food in my life, fuck", she curses in her chin, and I struggle to hear what is that she is saying.

Maybe she is poor and has never had this much food in her fridge. 

You said enough with maybes, my consciousness reminds me.

I can't see if she is poor or not from the hospital report, I retort, irrittated.