Saviors (Completed)

53. How Are You Doing

"Come in!" Miss Hamilton yelled, causing me to twitch in surprise. It sounded like she was just on the other side of the door 

I opened the door slowly and walked in. She rested in her chair, arms and legs crossed and wearing a screaming pink shirt. Her smile was easygoing and welcoming. "How are you doing?" she asked and patted on the sofa, signaling for me to sit down. I marched silently over and sat. 

"Fucking terrible." My words were what I would describe as cutting. I crossed my arms over my rasing chest and shifted my gaze to the wall. 

"That doesn't sound especially good." She was way too cheerful for my desire. 

"No way!" 

"Wanna talk about it?"

"No!"

"Okay." 

After that, she didn't say anything as if we weren't supposed to talk at all. Not even about my dilemmas. Silence swallowed me whole, deliberately, and painfully. "Say something! That's your job after all!" 

She beamed. "How are you doing?" 

I tossed my head back and groaned noisily. "Don't do that."

"Don't do what?" She almost persuaded me that she was upright confused; almost. 

"Seriously! Why did I even come here in the first place?" 

"Because your appointment begins in one minute and twenty-seven seconds." Whatever there was going on in her mind, I didn't want to be a part of it. 

"What do you want to talk about?" I asked. She settled her hand under her chin as if she was in distant thought. 

"I should actually be the one asking that question, but with you, nothing ever goes after the plan." I didn't answer but studied her while she opened a rucksack and drew up a computer from the bag and transferred it over to me. "Can you find your novel on this one?"

I took the computer. Yeah, I think I can, but why should I do it?"

"Because I want  to inspect you while you do something that you actually cherish."

"I don't understand, but it's better than explaining my emotions or whatever." I shrugged and found my story. As soon as the words came into view my fingers started gliding over the keyboard like a switch had been turned on inside of me. 

However, then it hit me. The one thing I dreaded the most. 

Writer's block. 

I stared at the screen, the light brightening my face secretly up. My words clashed with nothing but thin air and floated away and out of reach. A heavy cry left my dry and still lips as my fingers were tucked away from the keyboard. 

"Something happened, I can read it in your facial expression and body language." She tilted forward. "Why aren't you writing?" 

A thick wall tattoed itself inside my brain blocking words and making me hit the table outrage. I was almost finished! Only the ending was missing!

"A writer's block, I can't come up with anything and mainly not with anything good!" I granted her the computer strenuously. "Here." 

She took it with care and peeped at the screen before she locked it and put it back down in her backpack. "You don't respond well when you're frustrated," she declared and enveloped her hands in her lap and looked at me like she genuinely cared, but I knew better. "Well, that's just another thing we have to work on." 

She reached down for a few papers in her bag and as she showed them to me, it wasn't normal papers, but on one of the sides a painting was formed and I very well knew what she was going to do. "No thanks, I don't like those kinds of things."