Her Therapist

Chapter 30.

SEBASTIAN

"I grew up in a shelter", I speak, not knowing why exactly am I beginning to talk about my painful past. But it doesn't seem painful anymore when being told to this aggressive girl who is sitting next to me on a dirty floor in a dusty basement.

I placed my jacket on the floor, so she can sit, and don't stain her sweatpants, even though she tried telling me that it was okay. I didn't wanna hear it, and part of me was surprised that she didn't make a bigger mess of it, that she didn't protest. But, I guess that after I cried in her arms, she softened. But she cried in mine, too, guess that she is embarrassed, too.

But, I don't feel embarrassed surprisingly. I feel relieved. I feel fresh. I feel new. As a new person.

Maybe I needed a therapist myself. But I didn't know that therapist would be Esther Larsson herself.

"They left me at the door of it, without any document, without any possible chance for me to find them once I grow up. Guess, that was their  wish." I swallow hard and feel a hand on my arm. A cold hand. I snap my head to it, to see Esther's soft expression, and her lashes still wet from tears.

"It's okay. You don't have to tell me if it's hard for you."

I shake my head. "It's okay. I want to tell you. I want you to know." She lowers her brows, and if I didn't know her, I would think that she made puppy eyes on purpose. She did it accidentally, though. And it's adorable. I think that if she did that I would do anything she asked me to.

"Anyway, so I grew up in a shelter, and it was... Well, it wasn't easy. But I kinda miss it, to be honest. Nowadays when I come to my empty apartment, I miss the boys I lived with, even though some of them bullied me."

"Physically?", her small voice asks.

"Both physically, and mentally, yes", I answer. "They would steal my things, too, so I had to hide everything" I chuckle at the memory.

"For how long were you living there?"

"For nineteen years. Then when I enrolled myself in the university, I went to the dorm that was close to it to live in."

"How was there?"

"It was... fine. Yeah, no more hiding things, even though I kept doing that, still not believing my roommate. He turned out to be a nice guy, who was more out than in the room, so I could study and live in peace. So, yeah." I scratch my neck, a little nervous to be telling this to someone. Her hand is the whole time on my arm."Later, in the third year, I started living with Conor."

She frowns, confused. "Who's Conor?"

"Conor is my colleague. He was there when you first came. He blocked the door when you wanted to escape", I explain, refreshing her memory a little.

"Oh, him", she scrunches her nose.

"What?", I chuckle. "You don't like him?"

"Well, not much, to be honest."

I laugh. "But why? Because he didn't let you escape?"

"No. Because he... looks like my old therapist. Well, not physically, but, just... He seems a little uninterested in the patients, and a little cocky."

I laugh again, not believing how she read him so fast, and so well. "Well, that he certainly is."

Her face enlightens for a second. "I guessed it?" I nod. "Ha, I knew it", she scoffs and smirks proudly. "I know them."

"Them?"

"Therapists like them. They just give you medications, and leave you to spend months in the madhouse without even talking to you even once."