PROMISES » #MeToo ✔️

FIVE // Piper

A/N: Here. Have another. 
I've decided that I'm not going to make a set-in-stone schedule for this story, but instead I'll update it spontaneously, so expect a chapter a day, every other day, or a couple in one day, etc. Just depends on how busy I am and if I want another one to be put up.
That being said, this one is a bit heavier on the whole PTSD, panic disorder, etc. stuff, so be careful. Stay safe <3

HOW SHE TRIES TO OPEN UP

"Piper, I know how you work, and to me it sounds like you're avoiding this boy."

I avert my eyes from the floor to my therapist, Neoma. Her face is pleading, and soft. I can tell she's really wanting me to open up right now, but I'm being stubborn. Again.

"I'm not avoiding anything," I repeat pointedly, as if it means anything more when I say it a second time. It doesn't. It only makes me sound weak, which I really wasn't going for, but this is all so confusing.

I want it to fix itself.

This is stupid.

Neoma sighs, turning to place her clipboard down on her desk. "Listen—"

"I know, I know," I interrupt her, taking a deep breath. I know this talk by heart. "I need to talk to him, and not avoid him. Because avoiding him is only fueling the anxiety and making my body accustomed to avoiding boys."

She sits back in her chair, a small, content smile on her lips. "Well, either I've given you the talk too much or that's your logical brain talking."

I groan, placing my head in my hands. "I think it's both. Why can't I function off my logical brain? Why does the illogical side have to take control all the time?"

"Because then you wouldn't have mistakes to learn from," She says softly, and yeah, that makes sense. That makes perfect sense. Now the next task is convincing me of that.

"I know," I sigh, running my fingers through my hair. "But what do I do? I can't just try to talk to him now. I've avoided him all week." I pause, groaning, "He probably thinks I hate him."

Neoma smiles softly, "I'm sure he doesn't. He probably thinks you're embarrassed by what happened." She pauses, thinking for a moment. "Try going to a football game, or maybe say hi if you see him in the hallway. Being polite goes a long way, too, you know."

"Yeah, well," I chuckle darkly. "I haven't exactly been polite this whole week." Literally, I haven't. If I knew that I would see him if I went down a certain hallway, I took a shortcut, and vice versa. I didn't want to see him, so I changed all my routes. And even left lunch early some days.

I'm a mess.

"Mistakes," Neoma reminds me in a slightly sing-song voice. "Now you can learn from them. Let's focus on something else, though. How is your junior year going so far with academics?"

And so here we are, on a different conversation. Neoma does that a lot. She often decides to focus on something, and then when she's sure I'm at a point where I can work it out, we switch gears. Sometimes it irritates me, and other times it's perfectly okay because I need to think about something different. Right now it's the first.

It's weird, actually. I need to talk about it, but I know I can't. Every time I try to, the words get caught in my throat, or I change the subject so we go off into a different conversation.

As much as I don't want to talk about it aloud, I need to think about it. Neoma is right. I need the illogical side of me to make mistakes, so I can learn from them and in return make the logical side of me stronger. Right now, I need the logical side to be seriously strong.