Into Darkness

Chapter 2

Ryler:

It's Friday morning and it's been one hell of a week. I have maybe slept a total of ten solid hours all week. So about two and a half hours per night. Needless to say, I'm exhausted. Nikki finally twisted my arm and I'm going to see my therapist this morning. I'm not very happy about it, but maybe it will give her some peace of mind and maybe it will help me a little.

My therapist is a nice woman. She's attractive and in her thirties and while I trust her somewhat, I do not trust her completely. There are some things she asks me to talk about that just hurt too much, like Connor. I can't talk about him. Ever. I haven't spoken his name since everything happened two and a half years ago. The guilt I feel over his death is overwhelming. He gave his life to try and save mine that day. If he had never loved me he never would have died. I wish he never loved me. I wish he was still alive. I wish so many things.

I put a little extra effort into my appearance this morning. I actually bothered with doing my hair and make-up and I put on a nice sweater and one of my newer pairs of jeans. The only reason I'm bothering with any of this today is so I can seem like I'm doing okay. I don't need to give my therapist any other reasons for her to hound me in our session today. My tragic past gives her enough ammunition for a lifetime. I don't need for her to look at me and see the dark circles under my eyes which show just how much I'm not sleeping. I don't need to give her more reasons to want to suggest I come in for more sessions like I used to. I don't need her to call my parents and give them more reasons to worry about me. I don't need a lot of things and there are a million more that I do need, but I'll never get.

When I walk into the office the receptionist tells me good morning and I mumble my response and then she tells me to head on in. I open the door and I'm greeted by my therapist who is sitting behind her desk looking over some files, which are more than likely mine. I say nothing as I slide into the seat in front of her desk. There is a couch, but I always opt for the chair. The couch seems too cliché and I'm also always way too tense to lounge on a couch and relax while I'm talking about my life, my past.

"Morning Ryler" she says to me cheerily as I fidget with my hands and the sleeves of my sweater. Did I mention my therapist is a morning person? And that she is perky. Two characteristics I used to admire in people. Now? Not so much.

"Morning Dr. Roberts" I say not nearly as cheerily. After our first few months of therapy she tried to get me to call her by her first name, which is Vivian, but I couldn't. Calling her Vivian would suggest we are close, friends even and I can't allow myself to have any new friends. I can't allow anyone else in, because people who are close to me are in danger. I can't lose anyone else I care about. So how do I fix that? I don't allow myself to care, which is why I seem cold to Dr. Roberts.

"I was surprised to hear you wanted to schedule an impromptu session, happy, but surprised. What's going on Ryler?" There are so many answers to that question I don't even know where to start. I hear her genuine concern for what is going on with me and I feel an ache in my chest but I push it away. I have to remain cold and closed off.

"Nothing" I say as I look down at my hands. My long dark hair falls in front of my face but I don't move it. I use it as a shield instead.

"If that was the case I don't think you would have scheduled this meeting." How observant of you. Did they teach you such skills in school? I fight the urge to think my sarcastic comments out loud. "I can't help you Ryler if you won't talk to me" she says gently.

For a moment I allow myself to think about how I'm studying to possibly be a psychologist one day and I wonder if I'll have a patient as difficult as I am someday. It would be justified. Maybe I should cut her some slack. At least she seems genuine in wanting to help me.