Sebastian Bear (complete)

ONE

One

Madeline Hunter shifted uncomfortably on the leather sofa. Her therapist, a middle-aged woman with a strong set of steely eyes and pen that never stopped scribbling, sat diagonally across the room. "So you say you're having a hard time sleeping?" It was the second time the question had been asked. Madeline could tell by the cool edge of her words. She had let her lack of sleep distract her again, her eyes glossy, her mind far away. Doctor Sarah Hershel didn't like repeating herself. Madeline had learned that over the last ten years.

"Yeah, it's getting pretty bad." It was. Madeline could feel the heavy hand of fatigue pressing against the back of her skull. A dozen aches and pains squeezed at her sleep-deprived body. She was depressed again and with that came the rapid thoughts, which provoked the sleepless nights. It had been so long since the last episode, she had hoped, that part of her, gone altogether. Insomnia was a huge clue. Dr. Hershel would know that. They had been down this road before.

"Where are you with your moods?" Dr. Hershel was a kind woman and did actually want to help. Madeline had picked up on her sincerity over time, but it didn't make opening up any easier when she felt like this. She wanted to know where her thoughts were. Had she dipped her feet in the negativity pool? Of course, she had. That always came first. Then there was the sadness, the worry, the ugly hopelessness. She would go there if she didn't stop. She'd lay in bed, lights off, covers pulled high. It was handed down from her mother. She hated her for it.

"Not great," She answered honestly. "There's a lot going on with school. Well, it's ending. Graduation is in a couple of days. You know that though." She made a face. "Nolan is leaving after the summer for college."

"Are you still planning on the Parkview Community?" There was no judgment in her question but Madeline still winced. Sure, there was nothing wrong with starting out there, but she had worked so hard in school to let her anxiety shackle her. She was too scared to leave. She didn't want to share a small space with a stranger, eat cafeteria food, walk miles to her classes. She couldn't imagine sharing a bathroom with an entire floor of people or worrying about her roommate bringing home a dude for the night. The horror stories were endless. Besides, community college was completely paid for. She told herself that when Nolan talked about all the bands that played near his soon to be campus or the plans he had for his newfound freedom.

"Yeah, that's the plan. Nolan is going to Berkley. I don't remember if I told you that or not." She didn't mean to always bring the subject back to him but somehow did. Dr. Hershel surely noticed but rarely remarked on it during their time together. Nolan, after all, was a huge part of her day to day life.

"You mentioned it. How are you feeling about him leaving, now that it's so close?" There it was. How did it make her feel? Terrible, angry, jealous... a lot of things.

"Shitty," Madeline shrugged. "I'm acting shitty. I am." She sat up straighter, her hands' perched, elbows locked on her tattered jeans. "I'm no fun. I'm not fun to be around anyway. I can tell I'm annoying him with my attitude and I'm trying to stop but you know how that goes."

Dr. Hershel grinned. "You've always been pretty self-aware."

That was true, not that it really helped in most situations. Madeline glanced out the window, her mind was somewhere far off and cloudy. She really needed to sleep. Her attention span was short. She imagined Nolan driving away for the last time. He had never been so far away by himself. She was worried about so many things.

"So have you asked yourself the obvious question yet?" Dr. Hershel peaked at her young patient over her trendy glasses. That grabbed her attention. "Come on Madeline, you knew I was going to ask you so why don't you go ahead and ask yourself?" Obvious questions didn't seem so obvious when you were wallowing in despair. Television seemed obvious. A comfortable bed, dim lighting, eating too much or not eating at all, all obvious things.