Scars (Ziam)

Questions and Answers

Update!!!!! It's been a while, but it's here.

And speaking of questions and answers, do any of you guys want a Character Ask? If so, I will post a place to leave questions for the characters probably tomorrow. Let me know because I always enjoy doing them for you all!

Lastly, please read this chapter carefully as Liam's thoughts may be depressing.

I love you all, and please stay safe! 💕

Chapter 18:

I tapped my fingers against the leather arm rest of the chair I was sitting in, feeling my heart beating erratically in my chest as the woman in the seat across from me awaited my answer to her question. The black frames around her eyes were perched delicately on her nose, and she glanced up at me from the journal she was going to write my words in-- keeping track of every single though I said aloud.

I felt like I was suffocating; the room seeming to grow smaller as my thoughts jumbled up inside of me.

"Liam," The woman called to me, snapping me out of my thoughts, but my reality wasn't any better.

The woman's name was Dr. Phillips, and she was the therapist that my family was able to find to work with me. She had black hair that was tied up in a bun, red lips that stained the edge of her coffee cup as she drank from it, very keen eyes, and a hold on her ballpoint pen like she was ready to write an essay on my strange behavior already. She was intimidating, but I knew that it was only my perspective.

She had been nice enough as I walked into her office behind her. She smiled and introduced herself and explained to me how everything would work as we sat. Then, she asked the first question, and my brain shut down on me.

"Liam, do you need me to repeat the question?" She asked, and I nodded hesitantly.

I knew what the question was, but I didn't know how to respond to it.

"How would you describe your childhood and your relationship with your family?" She asked once more, allowing me a moment to think about my reply.

I let out a deep breath and forced myself to begin with what was easy.

"My childhood was good," I stated. What exactly was I supposed to say?

"And how would you define 'good?'" Dr. Phillips asked, scribbling down something in her notes already.

"Um... I was happy."

"You were happy. Do you still feel happy?" She wondered aloud, and I swallowed thickly as I glanced over at the clock, seeing that it had only been five minutes of an hour long session.

"I don't... I don't know."

She looked up at me again, pausing in her writing to take in my appearance. I quickly looked down at my lap, hiding my face away. I knew that she knew what I looked like, but that didn't make it any easier. It was never easy-- except when Zayn was around.

"Tell me, Liam, how are you feeling right now?"

"Nervous, I suppose."

"Well that makes sense," She smiled kindly, setting down her pen and folding her arms into her lap. "What else do you feel? What other emotions are there?" She wondered, gently prodding at me.

"Fear," I mumbled out, picking at my fingernails and biting my lip as my nerves overtook me. "Like I want to disappear. I don't want to be here," I admitted.

"You don't want therapy," She repeated. "What made you decide to do this then?"

"My family," I said, thinking about my father and sisters waiting out in the waiting room. "I'm doing it for my family."