Formidable // Sally Face (2)

O n e

"Tell me more about this 'Sally' individual, Violet," Dr. Olson requested with her hands folded in her lap. "You've brought her up during every one of our sessions."

It was a cold Wednesday afternoon. Violet sat in the rather small office of her therapist, whom she'd been assigned to following the incident with her father. It smelled of old books in here and the loveseat she sat upon was painfully firm. She had to frequently shifted her body to keep her lower back from spasming. 

Dr. Olson, however, sat several feet across from her in a lush leather chair with beautiful wooden upholstry. Though, she never leaned into it or even used the armrests. Her posture was usually stick-straight and rigid (as were her facial expressions much of the time).

Violet was always actively aware of the clock ticking in the background of their conversations. It was a constant reminder that she was wasting an hour of her day in a cramped office, talking about her "trauma." On bad days, she wanted to rip the clock off the wall and smash it on the ground. Fortunately, today wasn't one of those days. 

Thanksgiving, Christmas and New Years came and went since the incident. Violet had little to no memory of any of it. The last 2 months were a blur. Her only goal when she woke up every morning was to make it through the day. She was merely going through the motions, doing only enough to keep her alive. The rest was either done with the help of Sal or by him entirely. 

"He's a boy. His name is just Sal," she replied, flatly.

"Is he a friend?"

Dr. Olson asked a lot of questions. Apparently, part of her job was knowing everything about everything in Violet's life. She never forced her to answer the questions, but the inquisitive tone in her voice almost made it sound like she cared, which never failed to guilt-trip her into doing so. 

"Yes. He takes care of me."

"Ah, so he's your legal guardian?"

"No."

Dr. Olson's facial features twisted into a puzzled expression. She cocked her head to the side, causing her rounded spectacles to slide down the bridge of her nose. "I'd like to hear more about this, if that's alright."

"It's not a big deal," the teen sighed. "He just makes sure I eat and stuff. He brings me here and takes me to school. That's about it."

"That's very kind of him. Sal must be a very good friend of yours."

"Yeah. He's my best friend."

Of course, the woman went on to ask all of her thousands of questions about Sal and how his actions made her feel and whatever else. Violet chose not to comment on much of this. Her relationship with Sal was very confusing at the moment. They weren't boyfriend and girlfriend, and yet, he behaved as if they were. He kissed her all the time, told her he loved her, and did practically everything for her. In fact, he was the reason she was in therapy in the first place. He begged her to go because he thought it would help her. So far, no such luck.

"Before we end today's session, I'd like to ask about your nightmares. Have they improved or gotten any worse?" She inquired. It was about time she changed the subject.

"No."

"Are you still having the same one?"

"Yes."

"Have you ever seen the supposed demon standing behind your father in the dream?"

Violet knew better than to speak of the things that went on in the walls of Addison Apartments. Admittedly, it sounded rather unbelievable, especially to an outsider. She'd be thrown into a mental institution if she mentioned the Red-Eyed Demon to Dr. Olson, or any of the other spirits for that matter. "No."

"Hmm," she scribbled this onto the clipboard in her lap. "Have you been keeping a dream journal or meditating before you go to bed like we talked about?"

"I've been meditating." That was a lie. Well, sort of. Mostly a lie.

"We'll discuss this further in our next session, Violet. Our time is unfortunately out for today." Dr. Olson placed the clipboard on the coffee table that sat between them and rose from her chair. She offered the young girl a small, and very obviously forced smile and gestured for her to follow her toward the exit. She happily obliged.

"Thanks," she mumbled.

"Have a good week, Violet. Keep working on your coping skills."

"I will."

> > >

Sal was waiting in his usual parking spot outside of the office building. His head was bowed as a green light reflected off of his prosthetic. He must have been playing his Gear Boy. As soon as he noticed her approaching the car, he smiled and waved to her. 

Violet's parents left her everything they owned, including both cars. Since they were both only children with deceased parents, they really had no one else but the government to surrender it all to. However, since Violet still couldn't drive, she gave her father's car to Sal. He only ever used it to transport her anyway.

Once she climbed into the vehicle, the smell of cinnamon filled her nose, soothing her of the pent up frustration from being in therapy. She leaned against her seat and closed her eyes with a sigh. "Hi, Sally."

"Hey, Vi. How was therapy today?" He asked.

"She asks too many questions."

The blue-haired boy chuckled, reaching across her lap to put his Gear Boy in the glove compartment. "Yeah, therapists will do that. She's just trying to learn more so she knows how to help you better."

"Didn't she go to college just to learn how to help people?"

"Everyone has different needs, Vi," he laughed. "Be patient, okay?"

"Whatever you say, Sally."

The two fell quiet once they were on the road. Sal kept the Sanity's Fall tape passed down to him by Larry playing lowly in the background. Occasionally, he'd drum his fingers on the steering wheel or subtly bob his head to the rhythm. As much as the two enjoyed quiet car rides, they agreed that sitting in complete silence for the whole ride home was a bit over the top. After all, Dr. Olson's office was 30 minutes outside of Nockfell. 

Sal reached for one of Violet's hands, tangling his fingers with hers. He brushed his thumb against her skin ever so gently. He could see it by the look on her face that therapy was far from enjoyable every time she finished a session. Part of him felt guilty for practically forcing her into it. She was already having a hard enough time without a stranger asking her tons of personal questions to the point that she grew frustrated. However, he also knew that he didn't have what it took to help her cope with her circumstances healthily and move on. All he could do was keep her as safe and comfortable as he could in the meantime. She'd never admit to it, but he certainly noticed her new habit of doing deep breathing exercises when she got overwhelmed. 

"I love you, my Violet," he murmered.

"I love you too."