Fragments

8.7

8.7

"So here we are again," Dr. Moore says, setting his clipboard down on his desk. His pen rolls for a moment, then slows to a stop."But this time, things are more pressing."

I look everywhere except for my counsellor's eyes.

"Your mother has called, Piper, and she is very concerned."

I have no choice but to finally look at him, to actually be present for my appointment. "Why?"

"She says you refuse to go home for Christmas. May I ask why that is?" My shrug is an inadequate response. "You're almost eighteen, so I'm going to be very open with you about things. Your mother does not believe you're getting better here and is considering bringing you home. She has been in touch with your previous counsellor, Dr. Day, and they have discussed outpatient treatment options for you."

I can't keep my hands from shaking. The words I'm hearing are barely registering before fear starts pumping through my veins. She wants me home, away from here and Roman and Adam and now Sasha.

"You can't let them," I object. My lungs are practically wheezing with the thought of leaving everything behind and going home.

"Why shouldn't I?" Dr. Moore asks. Before I can respond, he continues, his right hand gliding lazily through the air as he speaks. "You haven't made any progress with your sessions, Piper. You don't talk about your past, you don't talk about your present, you don't wish to set any goals. What progress are you making?"

My mouth opens. Closes. I have nothing to tell him, except maybe for the one thing I've noticed recently.

"I don't want to jump off a bridge anymore. But if you send me home, Dr. Moore, I can promise you, I'll want to again. And I will."

"Then open up, Piper. Tell me what I want to know." He picks his clipboard back up, pausing to meet my gaze. His pen hovers over the lined paper. "Start with why you don't want to go home."

It's almost easier than yesterday, almost easier than telling Roman. The words come out like I've turned on a facet, but I limit myself, withholding details I'm not yet ready to share. The clock ticks past the end of our session but Dr. Moore doesn't stop us. I don't know if he even notices or is simply prioritizing me. When I'm done though, I'm quick to point out the time. The school day is about to end.

Dr. Moore makes me an appointment for tomorrow, and I leave his office quietly. By the time the bell rings I'm already to my room. I flop on my bed, facing away from the stain I've been unable to ignore since Sasha pointed it out. I think back to what Dr. Moore said.

"I'll talk to your mother about staying here at school, but on one condition. You keep sharing during our sessions. If you keep bettering yourself, what reason does she have for you to change your treatment plan?"

Maybe talking about Trevor isn't as bad as I thought.