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Chapter Ten

10.

"So, Edward. How was your visit yesterday?"

Edward continues to stare down at his feet, hands pressed underneath his thighs to hide the shaking. Although the shaking has subsided slightly and now his hands don't seem to shake nearly as bad as they did when he first arrived. But he still doesn't want Doctor Hutt to see them. He hates when they shake so bad that he can barely hold a cup of water without it spilling over, but he would hate it more under the ever-watchful gaze of Doctor Hutt. If he did see Edward's shaking hands, it would only give him something else to ask Edward about. And Edward really isn't in the mood to answer any questions today. Not from anyone really. But especially not from Doctor Hutt. He has one of those stares that instantly make you feel as though you've done something wrong. That you're wrong, bad and never will be right again. And Edward doesn't think that's how a therapist is meant to make you feel, right?

So, he decides, he's not opening up any more than he has to, to get out of here. He's not going to let Doctor Hutt think for a moment that he knows anything about Edward's life and how it can be fixed. He doesn't think anyone knows how to fix him really. He's a puzzle and all the pieces are mixed up, parts never to be found again. And that's something he's learning to accept. Although secretly he longs to be better, to have his life back again; he just can't seem to go through the motions to actually make himself get better. He wonders if he ever will be able too.

"I understand," Doctor Hutt breaks the silence, "that you got a bit annoyed or frustrated at one point?"

"Not really," Edward replies, hoping the conversation can be changed and they can just sit in silence like these sessions normally end.

He much prefers group therapy sessions, because at them all you need to say is something like I feel positive today and the nurses lap it up. And then he's normally left alone for the rest of the session. But private sessions. They're a lot worse. The hour-long session seems to drag on and on and on. Never ending. And every minute that ticks by, seems to last a life time. Not getting better, and not getting worse. Edward wishes he didn't have to sit in this bright room, waiting for his torture to be over. He wishes he could just get up and walk out, back into his life, and pick up from where he left off. But he's been told time and time again that that isn't going to happen unless he partakes in his treatment. He wonders how long he'll be here. Maybe forever. He's not sure he even cares anymore.

Doctor Hutt continually probes and asks questions even when Edward just sits in silence. It's almost as if he cares. Edward isn't sure whether to be pleased that this man seems to care about his life, or if he should be annoyed that this man is pretending to know what Edward is going through. Because he doesn't. No one does. And he'd like to keep it that way. Keep all his secrets to himself.

And then Doctor Hutt decides to circle back to the previous conversation, "I wondered if we could talk about your visit yesterday? I know you told me you didn't really get annoyed, do you want to talk about anything that might have annoyed you?"

"Not really," is the only reply Edward gives and briefly glances up to see Doctor Hutt take off his glasses and place them on his notebook which is resting gently on his lap.

He looks away again, his hands firmly still pressed under his thighs. He doesn't want to give Doctor Hutt the satisfaction of an answer. He wonders if all his sessions will be the same until he finally gets to leave. He hopes that Doctor Hutt will soon give in and just let them sit in the broken silence for the hour. But he knows that won't happen. He's meant to say something in his therapy sessions, even if all he does is sit and cry. But Edward isn't going to let that happen. He isn't going to cry in front of a man he doesn't know. Any tears that Edward sheds are kept for his pillow, in the middle of the night, when his roommate Ben is fast asleep.