𝐌𝐨𝐨𝐧 𝐒𝐭𝐫𝐮𝐜𝐤|| 𝗧𝘆𝗹𝗲𝗿 𝗚𝗮𝗹𝗽𝗶𝗻'𝘀 𝗧𝘄𝗶𝗻 𝘅 𝗬/𝗻 𝗟/𝗻

𝟙𝟛.

"I just want to understand why the THREE of you would claim to have witnessed a murder."

Rolling my eyes yet again, I had finally given up on trying to explain myself, especially since I realized that no matter what I'd say or do, grown-ups will always believe their version of the truth, even if it's far from the actual fact.

First the sheriff, then my mom. I have no interest in speaking to the Mayor, but I'm pretty sure he'd act the same unless offered some more money. And lastly, our therapist, Dr. Valerie Kinbott too, which is ironic considering that this was supposed to be a 'judgment-free' zone.

All three of us, Atlas, Wednesday and I, spent the last 15 minutes narrating the incident that occured last time, individually AND together, over and over again without any variations in the narration whatsoever, and even that wasn't good enough for the blonde.

"Was it to gain attention? Some sort of a cry for help? Coping mechanisms?" She guesses, making us all groan aloud in unison, rolling our eyes. "Why should we bother telling you anything?" Wednesday then retorts. "You've already decided we're lying." Atlas shrugs.

"I refuse to talk to you on a Monday, when I'm supposed to be meeting you on Wednesday's anyway!" I scoff, upset for a completely different reason. "Besides, what makes you think attending a group therapy session with some random strangers is gonna make me talk, when coming here alone never did?" I raise my brow.

"It's not a group therapy session, y/n..." Kinbott sighs.

"I just want to understand your minds better. Whether if it's just the grief that binds you together, or just chaotic teenage hormones." She adds. "We know what we saw." Atlas cuts her short after realizing my discomfort when she mentioned 'grief'.

"And the fact that all three of us saw the EXACT same thing just proves that we aren't crazy, or were even hallucinating as that pathetic sheriff of yours keeps implying!" Wednesday chimes in. "All of your lives have had a lot of upheaval recently..." The blonde starts.

"It's okay to be confused about things." She assures, still not convinced. "It was probably just your trauma trying to consume you." She shrugs. "Quit trying to lure me into another one of your psychological traps." Snaps the boy.

"It may have worked on my brother, but it sure as hell doesn't affect me. One. Bit." He adds coldly. Wait, brother? I didn't know he had one... Is he an outcast too? Well, of course he's not gonna be a normie. I mean, aren't supernatural powers genetic?

"No one is trying to trap you, Atlas... Or even you for that matter, y/n and Wednesday." She sighs. "Therapy is a safe space, and everything here is strictly confidential." She reinstates. "I'm only here to help you process your emotions, and cope with the shortcomings of life." She muses.

"Emotions are a gateway trait." Wednesday deadpans. "They lead to feelings which trigger tears. I don't do tears." She speaks rather menacingly. "Well then, if I can't get anything out of any of you, let's just talk about how you're both adjusting to school." She gives up.

"It's school. It obviously sucks." I scoff, getting annoyed just thinking of that place and my dumb peers. I swear to god, every time I think of that place, it somehow almost ALWAYS ends up triggering my cute little inner arsonist.

"Sartre one said 'hell is other people.'" Wednesday quotes. "He was my first crush." She blushes, making my mouth drop. That's like the most color I've seen on her pale, dead face. "He hot?" I ask, making Atlas snort a little. "No y/n he's not hot." Kinbott sighs.

"He's dead." Wednesday informs, and my face drops. Didn't mean to sound so disrespectful..

"Oh my- I'm sorry, I guess..." I mumble, trying to figure if Wednesday was crushing on a dead person, or did she mean the younger, more alive version of Sartre. "Part of the reason why you both moved here was so that you could both find your people." Kinbott states, reading our files.

"Yeah, where have I heard that one before?" Atlas rolls his eyes, way too familiar with this.

"Don't you believe that maybe all this hate and anger you have inside of you might just have to do something with the unexpected death of your father?" Kinbott then asks me, making my heart stop for a second. "I thought this was supposed to be a private session?" I snap.

"It is. Everything you say stays within these walls." She nods. "Okay- No offense or anything, but having you expose my personal shit like that in a room full of people who aren't even related to any of this, is ANYTHING but private." I scoff, standing up.

"Y/n... I know you may be a little uncomfortable with the entire idea of letting your emotions out, but everyone here has lost someone." She shrugs, making Atlas look away, as upset as I was now. "That doesn't make things any better-" I raise my brows.

"And stop always bringing up my dad- Like how dense are you people?!" I exclaim, grabbing my jacket. "Where do you think you're going?" She asks as I storm towards the door. "Away from this conversation." I spat, slamming the door shut behind me.

I couldn't believe her- I mean, one minute she's all about valuing privacy and personal space and comfort zones and whatnot, and the next minute she reads my file aloud in front of two completely stoic, unemotional strangers, who could possibly never relate?!

This is why I never trust anyone. Because every time I try to keep an open mind, someone does something that reminds me why I never should've done it in the first place. And unironically, it has always been adults in my case. Right from my mom to my teachers to even my therapist.

My boy Sartre was actually right- Hell indeed is other people...