Her Therapist

Chapter 13.

SEBASTIAN

It could be only one person.

My best friend.

But why didn't he call me first?

Wait.

He has a hangover. It can't be him. The who i...

"Mrs. Hamliton!", I exclaim, my voice high-pitched for some unknown reason, just like at the child who is trying to hide the mistake he made in front of his parents. 

When I first came, I thought that she could be like a mother to me, but soon I realized what kind of a woman she is. She acts more than she is honest, unfortunately. She is bitter inside, but soft and sweet on the outside. Though, I realized that before I tied myself to her. Sometimes... Sometimes I need a mother. A father. Anyone. And when I have patients with parents, it's kinda hard for me to solve the problems, and just understand the relationship my patients have with their parents because I've never experienced that, I don't know what parents do, but I do know what they should be doing instead.  But, alas, it's not the same. It could never be.

I feel as if I shouldn't be advising my patients, nor their parents when I have never had mine. How could I know? And to be honest, sometimes I'm scared of what could happen if one of my patients found out that I was raised in a shelter, like a... like a bastard. Would they all leave me then? Would they consider me inappropriate to be a therapist? Their therapist, their helper? Their friend? At the end of the day, I intend to be a friend to all of my patients so they can overcome that barricade and open up to me.

Even to Esther?

Even to Esther. I want to be her friend, then her therapist.

"Sebastian, dear, I..." I snap from my thoughts and come back to the present where my neighbor is asking me... Wait, what was she asking me?

"Who was the girl?"

"Who was? Wait, where is s... Esther!" I catch her petite figure in the corner of my eyes, running down the stairs, and I push Mrs. Hamliton who complains, but I don't stay to listen to her, yet I run after the aggressive girl who is stumbling on her feet while skipping two or three stairs.

"Larsson, stop!", I shout after her, and stumble, but catch myself on the metal railing. "Shit!", I scream when I feel the pain in my angle. I have twisted it or even sprinkled it, who knows. "Wait, I... Fuck!"

I begin running again, trying to step as softer as I can on my sprained ankle. She will pay for this. Why the hell is she running from me? I was ready to make her breakfast, I gave her my clothes, I would even let her in my bathroom even if she could be a thief. Wait... Did she... I'll have to check my house.

One side of me scolds me for daring to think about her like this, but I can't let the feeling rule me when my brain should be the only one controlling everything, and... Wait, feelings? What feelings, Sebastian? Now, I scold myself for daring to have any feeling toward one patient. Toward one aggressive girl who broke my things, who insulted me, who... did so many things she shouldn't have done. But, I'm not angry at her. I could never be angry at her.

Wait, I can and I am. I am upset with her, but knowing the possible traumas she could have gone through, I can't really judge her. Plus, I could be wrong, and maybe none of the possibilities that are crossing my mind could be the right one, so, I can't be judgemental. Therapists aren't judgemental, but they do act like they are, so they can awake some feeling in their patients. The ones even the patients are not aware of. And that is what I am doing with Esther, too, I try to console myself. 

Maybe she has run out because you had said that you would bring her to the ward.

Damn, I forgo... Enough with maybes! 

"Esther", I breathe out, feeling so tired, and I stop, panting like a dog. My hands drop to my knees, and I squat, still panting, my lungs so empty, there is not enough air. God, where has the air left? I need it. I don't see, I can't see, everything is a blur, and I blink rapidly to disperse the fog, but it doesn't want to disappear. 

"Hey, move out the way!", someone shouts, and I manage to jump to the side before a cyclist tramples me. He continues shouting something about how people are so rude nowadays, but I'm too focused on scanning the surroundings for Esther than I am on him, his cursing, and his rudeness. 

"She's gone. Damn, she is gone", I mumble in my chin, squeezing my fist, angry at myself, but at the same time sad that I let myself lose her. "I lost her. Maybe I lost her forever."