𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐓𝐡𝐢𝐫𝐭𝐲 𝐎𝐧𝐞 ✧ 𝐒𝐜𝐞𝐧𝐞 𝐓𝐰𝐨

79 6 0
                                    

✧*~☽༓・*˚⁺‧͙ - .*☆

The short blonde woman clicked her pen before peering over her glasses at the boy sitting across from her

Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.

The short blonde woman clicked her pen before peering over her glasses at the boy sitting across from her.

"What brings you to see me today Mr. Harrington?"

She asked, her tone was professional but not harsh. There was a light warmth to it like morning sunshine.

Steve gulped. He shifted nervously in his chair.

"Well... My friend Robin says I need to do this." He said. "See you I mean." He added.

"After everything that's happened over the years... She strongly recommend I see some kind of therapist or counselor." "But Robin didn't make this appointment with me, did she, Mr. Harrington?" The woman asked and Steve sighed.

He eyed her name tag for a moment, Dr. J. Mills. He scanned it quickly so he knew how to address her.

"No, Dr. Mills."

He said.

"She did not. I did. But if I hadn't she would be up my ass about it." He said with a roll of his eyes and Dr. Mills chuckled lightly, pressing her dark pink lips into a thin smile.

"So then why don't you tell me exactly why you came in today?" "Well I have, haven't I?"

Dr. Mills looked at her notes.

"Yes, the mall fire, not getting in to college, loosing a dear friend of yours, but I feel like you aren't telling me everything, Mr. Harrington." She looked at him, peering over her reading glasses once more.

Her stare of her deep blue eyes chilled Steve. It was like she could see straight in to his soul. Nothing was safe from her peering eyes.

"You wouldn't believe me." He muttered.

"Try me." Dr. Mills said. "I think you'll find I make a rather terrible skeptic and a lovely believer." She said with a grin.

Steve sighed.

"Well... My friend Asling - the one I lost - she wasn't exactly from scotland like I said she was..."

✧*~☽༓・*˚⁺‧͙ - .*☆

The last bat dropped to the ground, dead, with an arrow sticking from it's side. Asling yanked the weapon out of it's body; it gave a cruel crack and pop as it slid past bone and blood. She cleaned the arrow and returned it to her quiver.

MAGICK • 𝐒𝐭𝐞𝐯𝐞 𝐇𝐚𝐫𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐭𝐨𝐧 •Where stories live. Discover now