Ten Years Without Love

First Therapy Session

Billy's POV

Today is when Dacre goes to see his therapist Kara for the first time.

I have to go and get him up unfortunately because he doesn't want to go at all, but I really could care less. He is going whether he likes it or not.

I go up to his and Michael's room and knock on the door.
No answer.

I knock again and still no answer.
I've fucking had it. He won't answer the goddamn door.
I open the door to Dacre on the floor next to the closet.
What the actual hell???
How did he end up on the floor like that? How is it even possible to roll out of the bed from that far away???

"DACRE!!!!"

Dacre shot up and looked at me. "Huh?!.."

"Get your ass up!!! We have to leave in five minutes!!!"

Dacre gave me a look. "....I am not going to therapy..."

I'm getting so fed up.
I am trying to do something nice for him here, taking him to therapy I felt would be a nice thing to do for him, to help him heal up somewhat and not have those voices.

"Dacre, I don't fucking care. Get your fucking ass up, get dressed, and get downstairs. You're going whether you like it or not. If you're not downstairs in two minutes, I will come and drag you down" I give him a serious look.
I will actually fucking drag him downstairs and into the car and I'm not joking around.

"And also, why the fuck were you on the floor??"

".....I knocked myself out"

Ok. He needs help. That's not fucking normal.

"Yeah, you definitely need therapy. Jesus fucking Christ"

I shake my head and turn away from him and go towards the door.

I head out of the room and go down the stairs and wait by the door.

Dacre's POV

I really really really don't want to go to therapy....
The therapist isn't even going to be able to help me..., so I don't understand what the point is of even going when I'm not going to get better no matter what....

I look towards the closet and stand up. I open it up.
I haven't changed my clothes in weeks.... I haven't showered or anything... I don't feel the need to shower.
I'm too miserable to barely do anything.
I hate being productive. I hate having to do shit.

I have been forced to do so much shit these past few weeks....
I have been forced to wash the plates and bowls, to clean up the dinner table... I hate it...
I hate living like this without Michael...

I grab a sweater that was bright red. I don't even see the point in changing my clothes honestly....

I grab the sweater and a pair of black jeans with rips in just the knees. I put on the sweater and jeans and just a pair of black socks that go up to the ankles.