𝚂𝚎𝚎 𝚃𝚑𝚛𝚘𝚞𝚐𝚑 𝚂𝚎𝚛𝚒𝚎𝚜 #1: 𝐒𝐞𝐞 𝐓𝐡𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡

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AIDAN:
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"Yes ma. I'm there now." I told Aunt Fatima, standing before the hospital.

"You can do this, okay?" I laughed at her words. She'd been assuring me about that even before I started this, it was something I had become use to.

"Okay." I said and walked into the hospital building, placing my phone carefully in my pocket.

When I had gotten near Dr. Adaeze's office, I felt a quick flash behind me again. My brows furrowed and the turned around immediately, but all I saw was an empty hallway. I looked around the area for a while but when I couldn't sight anyone, I turned the door knob and stepped into the office, shutting the door behind me.

Dr. Adaeze, who had been washing her hands by the sink, flinched and jerked backwards, exclaiming loudly at the immediate sight of me.

I smiled and waved. "Good evening to you too."

She eased up and smiled. "Stop doing that."

I nodded and grinned, taking a slight bow before her. "My apologies."

She laughed and walked to her sofa, sitting down immediately. I walked towards the sofa I usually sit on and sat down as well. She took out a paper and waved it at me.

"Look what I found." She smiled.

"What?"

"A form your dad filled, for your therapy session. You were supposed to be the one to do that but he said you weren't in a good state then."

I kept quiet for a while and stared at the paper. "What's in it?"

She shrugged. "Just some questions about your... health."

I looked from her to the paper, brows furrowing. "Can I see that?"

"Sure." She replied, and handed it to me.

All it contained were questions about my 'mental issues' and the cause. But it wasn't filled right, the part of it where the cause of my mental disorders was to be written and any traumatic event that could've caused it was to be stated.. it was left blank, unoccupied.

I scoffed.

Of course he didn't know. No one really did, except Aunt Fatima.

I handed it back to her and she smiled warmly. "We'll dance to music later, okay? Do you mind if I ask you some questions?"

I remained silent, staring at the paper and I sighed. A part of me felt... fearful, a feeling I wasn't quiet familiar with, and another part of me, felt assured, even though I didn't understand why.

"Yeah, sure." I muttered. I heard her exhale.

"From what I'm seeing in this form, it looks to me like you were diagnosed of Post Traumatic Stress Disorder and an Obssessive Compulsive disorder. Is that right?"

I nodded. "Yeah."

"So, can you tell me, Aidan. What is the most traumatic experience you have had in your life?"

I looked up at her and she stared back with a soft, gentle expression, nodding at me to go ahead, and speak.

"The most traumatic experience I've had was the time of my mother and sister's death." And I said no more than that.

She nodded and asked, "Both?"

I nodded. "Yeah."

"That's sad." She said with a frown. "Could you explain the event?"

I looked at her and gulped, my gaze falling to my interwined fingers as I leaned back on the sofa.

"I get that you don't feel comfortable sharing it with me." She said.