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act one, chapter four magic bullet
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TALKING TO someone was a harder task for Freya than she could ever imagine. She didn't like to talk about her feelings. It meant being weak and feeling vulnerable. Freya hated that feeling.
She wasn't a sweet puppy who someone needed to cheer up. Or a baby who couldn't take care of himself. She didn't need help. But Stiles was bothering her since they last talked to talk to someone, and when she didn't seem to take manners into her own hands, he took advantage of the situation and made an appointment by himself.
So there she was now, staring into the therapist's eyes with narrow eyes. The therapist didn't even seem bothered by her lack of talkiness. Which was making Freya's nerves bold with annoyance.
"Aren't you supposed to talk or something?", she finally asked her therapist.
"I'm guessing that since you are not the same kid who made the appointment, you don't want to be here", she answered, looking back at Freya.
Freya huffed annoyed, remembering that this was all his fault. Getting his privileges revoked seemed a nice thing to do right now.
"No. That's Stiles. He thinks talking to someone could help me. Such an asshole...", she mumbled annoyed.
The therapist wrote down quickly his name. "How do you spell that name? Stiles?", she genuinely asked.
Freya eyed her suspiciously, "Why are you writing about him?", she asked.
She shrugged, "Well, it's the first thing you said since you came here, must be important somehow...", she answered her.
"It's-It's not important in any way. You were the one who mentioned him first", Freya spat angrily.
"Right. You're right. I'm sorry, that was my fault", she nodded at Freya.
