Ch. 28 - Normal

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THE REST OF THE DAY, I was silent

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THE REST OF THE DAY, I was silent. Brent tried everything to make me talk including poking my cheeks, kicking my seat, playing with my hair, and doodling on my notebook.

I told him that I loved him and to text me after practice, but that was it. I didn't want to talk about what happened at school. It was gone when I went to put my books in there when the last bell rang. I think my brothers washed it off.

"You okay, Cam?" Mom asked me once I entered the car.

I nodded,"Just a lot on my plate right now."

"I bet. After your appointment, we can go get a snow cone. I saw a snow cone stand in my way here," Mom offered, driving away from the school.

"Sure."

She smiled before turning up the radio. I looked out the window, trying to ease my mind.

Twenty minutes, I'm standing in front of a white door. Mom had to wait in the waiting room while I went into the room. It's just suppose to be me and the therapist.

I can do this.

I twisted the doorknob, and it creaked open. I pushed it forward to reveal a huge room. There was a bookshelf behind a desk along with some plants decorated around the room. In the middle of the room was a gray sofa with a glass coffee table in front of it. Then there was the regular soft gray chair in front of the table.

Art paintings were on the walls, and I looked at them in awe. Lastly, there was a huge window with two thick gray curtains hanging on either side, letting the sunshine in the room.

"I can close the blinds if you like," a female voice said behind me.

I turned around to see a small woman–maybe in her forties–standing by her chair. Her short blonde hair was in a small ponytail, and her brown eyes were welcoming and warm. She had on a light pink dress with flowers on it and black heels.

"Sorry. I was just admiring your office," I said, looking around.

"Don't apologize. I want you to feel welcome here. I'm Dr. Morgan, your therapist. You must be Campbell, correct?" She asked, flashing me a smile as she took her spot in the chair.

"Yes ma'am."

"You can't sit if you like or stand. Whatever makes you feel more comfortable," she informed me as she opened her journal.

"How does this work?" I asked, gesturing between me and her.

She clasped her hands in front of her, dropping her journal in her lap.

"Well, that depends. If you wanna talk, then we'll sit here and talk like friends. If you want to be silent, we'll be silent. It's really up to you," Dr. Morgan explained, calmly.

"Do you tell anybody about our conversations?" I asked her before taking a seat on the sofa.

She shook her head,"No. Whatever you say in this room, stays in this room unless I feel like you are not mentally stable. Now you can tell your parents about our conversation if you like."

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