I'll Be Right Here | ✔

45 | why doe?

Aaliyah

THE WHOLE RIDE home no one mutters a peep, but that's not surprising considering what just happened in the mall. But what is surprising, is what Rachel suggests when I come down for dinner. I had immediately ran up to my room as soon as we entered the house and didn't come out until dinner was ready (the smell of the pasta drew me). I told Rachel I was studying vigorously for my Latin quiz tomorrow, but we both knew I wasn't. Especially because I don't even have Latin tomorrow. "What? Are you crazy!"

Rachel twirls the pasta with her fork. "Just think about it, Aaliyah."

"I am thinking about it," Rachel looks up, "and I don't wanna go!"

She shakes her head. "I just don't understand what's your deal with therapists."

"Y- you don't understand? Rachel, they suck!" Ever since I got adopted and turned ten, Rachel decided it was time for me to go to a therapist. I'm assuming it's because I'd always come to her, asking why people kept sending me weird looks in public, which I regret now, but as soon as I came to the therapist; I hated her.

I hated everything about her.

Her looks, her eyes, and how, when we were living in a world like this, she still managed to stay positive and reoccurring. It was then and there, I decided I would no longer to any therapists for my mental health. So the idea of a therapist for me popping up in Rachel's head is completely and utterly insane!

"Just because I've lost both my birth mother and father, doesn't mean I'll go crazy!"

That's a lie. As soon as I came into my room, the first thing I eyed for was my pocket knife (a gift from Grandpa) and knead it gently across my skin. 

"I'm not saying that at all, sweetie," Rachel comments, but just by the look on her face, I can tell she is worried. Should I be grateful that she's worried? Oh shit, should I be worried?

"Really?" I raise an eyebrow.

"Oh, it's just one session, and I heard she's a good therapist," Rachel practically begs me. "It's for your own good. Please, please. Do it for me."

I roll my eyes. "Alright fine, but I want some ice cream later."

Rachel falls back in her chair and collapses. "Really?"

I resist another eye roll. "Yes, really."

"O- okay," she steadies herself. "W- where are you going?"

"Up," I signify to the upper level.

"But what about your pasta?" her eyes lock with the elbow pasta. "It's your favorite."

"Eh I kind of lost my appetite," I do my best to ignore the heaps of pasta, sitting on the table, as I walk upstairs. I admit I do feel guilty for leaving Rachel empty, but it's true:

I did lose my appetite for tonight.

---

MY EYES DROOP as I feel for the alarm clock, shutting it down, as I lay back in bed. I open my left eye, in search of the clock. Just one more minute. I relax back in my bed, perplexed from last night. I'd spent over an hour last night watching The Middle on my laptop, not feeling the need to sleep, which I thoroughly regret now.

"Aaliyah," I hear my name call out in the distance.

"What?" I open my eyes to my room, relieved that it's not Derek's room.

"Aaliyah, we gotta go!" Standing in front of my doorway is Rachel, decked out in her business uniform.

"W- where are we going? I have school."