I'm Not Okay [UsUk]

Questions

Here we go. This is the moment from which I'll either start to get better or worse.

I can't believe they have signed me up for a therapy session that quickly! I literally woke up three hours ago, and they're already sending someone in?

This is scary. Very scary.

"Good afternoon! You're Alfred Jones, is that right?"

A somewhat cheerful, female voice with an amusing Scottish accent could be heard from the door. Alfred turned his head and sat up a little on the bed to find out it was a young lady with luxurious, long and curly red hair in a white uniform - the therapist.

Oh, she's already here...

Wonderful.

"Uh... Hello." He managed to stutter out two words, avoiding eye contact and rather examining an unknown spot in the distance which was probably non-existent in the first place.

"I'm Emily, your therapist." She sat herself on the plastic chair next to Alfred's bed. The first thing she spotted on the boy were the scars, and the gauze tightly wrapped around his wrist that made her inwardly shiver just slightly, but she didn't show it. That was, in all honesty, kind of scary. By that small physical analyse she could understand a bit of his backstory, but nothing more than why he was at the hospital in the first place.

Emily. That's my mum's name.

I shouldn't be thinking about that now, should I?

"So, Alfred, let me ask you a few things to get to know you better."

Questions? Just fantastic. I mean, it was sure to be expected but... I wish I could run away from this.

"G-go ahead." He said instead, wanting to hide the shame of the wounds showing on his left arm. In fact, it was cold in short sleeves, he didn't understand why it was obligatory for him to wear a night dress in the first place.

"What do you like to do? What are your interests?" Emily looked excited to be here, and Alfred guessed that he might had been her first patient. She was young, and had yet lots to experience.

"Um... I like to play piano." He muttered, now averting his glaze to the floor.

"That's interesting, so do I!"

Wait, what?

Mind, don't you dare do this to me now. I have to stay calm and collected for the next ten or fifteen minutes.

You must stop reminding me of that Chopin valse now. It's not the time for it! It's not! It's not!

Having a constant shouting voice in his mind, Alfred had difficulties focusing on talking and speaking properly, and remembering what was the last thing that someone said... And that was tiring. Extremely.

"My mother played the piano as well." Suddenly, he blurted out, not meaning to start that topic whatsoever. But, he had very little control over himself.

The Scottish lady politely smiled at his answer. "Why that's wonderful, isn't it? Music certainly gives the world more life."

"I agree." Alfred nodded, just shyly smiling, almost unnoticeably.

"Tell me about your family a little, Alfred. Do you have a brother? Sister?"

Not family. Just not that topic. I don't want to, please...

Why is it suddenly so difficult to stay polite?

"I have a younger brother... H-his name's Matthew. And he's really kind to me."