His Words (bxb)

chapter forty-one

Saturday, February 13, 2020

✧noah✧

"Let's get right into it, shall we? First of all, happy eighteenth birthday. I hope you had a special day yesterday."

"Thank you," I reply, "I did."

"How have you been lately, what have you been up to?" Dr. Willow says as she sits in her leather armchair and places her clipboard on her lap.

"I've been alright, how about you?" I say nervously, trying to postpone this conversation as much as possible. When I look up to see the knowing look in her eyes, I knew it was a stupid thing to ask.

"I'm your therapist, Noah, not your best friend's mom," she pauses. "So, what has actually been happening lately?"

I take a deep breath. "Not much really. I have developed a sex addiction and I'm lowkey a whore now, my foster moms adopted me, my ex-boyfriend and I got back together after a night of making hot, passionate love to each other and... Yeah, no, that's all that comes to mind at the moment."

I look around the room awkwardly as Dr. Willow takes a minute to collect herself, too stunned to say anything right away. I take some time to appreciate the several watercolour paintings around her office.

"Alright, let's go through things one at a time. We spoke in the past few sessions about your sexual activity, is there anything to add onto what we've already established about it?" Dr. Willow grips her pen and is ready to note things down.

"It's definitely a more frequent thing now." I don't know when I got so comfortable talking to my therapist about my sex life, but considering she's seen me at my lowest of lows, this is probably nothing in comparison.

"Do you ever find yourself in dangerous or threatening situations caused by these hookups?"

"There's always going to be that one sick freak that takes it too far..." My fingers graze my forearm where remnants of the bruise I acquired last night peek through.

"And you referred to yourself as a 'whore'?" Dr. Willow asks, jotting something else down.

I chuckle. "I mean, yeah. What else would you call someone who hooks up with strangers three to four times a week?"

"I have a few ideas," Dr. Willow starts. "You noticed your old medication lowered your sex drive - maybe the new meds you're on cause hyper-sexuality. Or maybe after not feeling up to sex for so long, you want to do it as much as possible now... But that's just the physiological stuff."

"And the psychological?" I ask apprehensively.

"I'm sure you already know this, but different people cope in different ways to the shit they experience in their lives," Dr. Willow explains, setting her clipboard aside and uncrossing her legs. "Some people with food, others with drugs or alcohol, some people go as far as to self-harm - something you're familiar with. You found sex. Is it healthy? No. Is it very dangerous and even illegal at times? Definitely. Are there worse things? I think so." She pauses, then says, "Do you consider it to be a coping mechanism? A distraction, even? Just so you can feel something?"

I nod, not knowing what else to say.

"Do you still feel numb at times?" Dr. Willow asks, picking up her clipboard and pen again.

"Kinda comes with the whole 'dissociation disorder' thing..."

"Describe it to me."

I sigh deeply. "It's like... something happens, and I look around and everyone's reacting somehow. If it's something sad, people are crying. If it's something happy, people are smiling. And I'm just sitting here going 'What the fuck, Noah? What the fuck are you feeling right now? Why the fuck aren't you reacting like everyone else does?' It's so fucking frustrating and it makes me feel like a psychopath."