It was a roomy office. There was a bookshelf at her right and a big desk in the far corner of the left side of the room. It smelled like candles, although not the way they smell when lit. The tall woman walking ahead of her sat down in a black chair, motioning for Zoe to follow suit in the chair directly across from her; a table adjacent to the left of the empty seat stood beneath a window, sporting a cup full of pens, a notepad, and a box of tissues. It wasn’t at all what she’d pictured a therapist’s office looking like, but it wasn’t as daunting as the images portrayed in cartoons and movies. She sat down, smoothing the black, knee length skirt she wore as it bunched up around her thighs. Once she was comfortable, Zoe began to wring her hands nervously as she stared down at them, tiny and fragile... that is what most people called her. She wasn’t that small, really, five feet tall and roughly four inches at sixteen, she was tall - at least in her humble opinion. However, her frame was extremely thin for her height, most could see her bones through her shirts. She continued to wring her hands as the therapist sitting across from her jotted something down.
“So... I’m Lauren, I will be your therapist for the next six months... unless we decide to continue your sessions.” Lauren smiled warmly, flipping the pen she held between two fingers.
Zoe stared at Lauren’s hands, noting mentally that she was right handed. There were ink smudges at her pinky and the side of her palm. She stopped staring at her therapist’s hands and took notice of her hair, it was long, honey blond, but there were hints of brown highlights. Zoe’s own hair was double in length, a muddy brown she always disliked. She found herself tugging on the strands and thinking about how mournful it was to have such boring hair.
“Zoe?”
“Hmm?” Zoe looked up, allowing her hands to let go of her hair. She folded them in her lap and bit her lip, sighing shakily, “Oh... sorry.”
“It’s alright, I’m going to ask you a few questions.”
“O-Okay...” Zoe squeaked, her heart was beginning to pound, she really wasn’t one to share her past or her secrets, but she promised him she would. Again she managed to stop looking at her hands and noticed how blue Lauren’s eyes were, a fantastic color, yet not so surprising. Her skin was soft looking, and her lips, how did she keep them from getting chapped? This brought Zoe’s attention to her own lips and she began to tug on the lower one nervously.
“Are you alright?”
“Mhm.” Zoe mumbled while still tugging at her mouth, her feet crossed somewhat over each other. The flats she wore were a little too tight, but she also promised that she’d put at least a tiny bit of effort into looking pleasant. Suddenly aware of how silly she probably looked, she let go of her mouth and her face began to heat up. “Yes, I’m ready for questions...”
“Good!” Lauren sounded awfully perky, which sort of surprised Zoe, she’d always imagined therapists as being rather serious or quiet... like a listener. But Lauren was different, she was young and rather energetic. “Now, have you ever seen a therapist before?”
Zoe shook her head and then realized Lauren wasn’t looking at her, she seemed to be staring at a clipboard in her left hand.
“No, this is my first time.” She was wringing her hands again, they were beginning to feel a little irritated, but she didn’t know how to relax.
“Okay. What brings you here?”
Zoe opened her mouth to speak and then stopped herself, she really wanted to answer honestly but then it would look like she didn’t come willingly. She had agreed that it might help to talk, but it wasn’t necessarily her idea. “If I’m being honest... it was sort of like an intervention.”
“Oh?” Lauren looked interested.
“My tutor was worried about me.”
“So you decided to come?” Lauren asked, smiling reassuringly. It was as though she wanted to make sure Zoe knew it was okay to be honest.
“Yes. It took a little while, but I decided...” Her hands were back to her hair, pulling at the muddy brown strands and twisting them. When pulling got overwhelming, she quietly braided the front.
“Alright, I’m glad you decided to come. So is there something that is deeply bothering you right now?”
Zoe felt her anxiety rising, so she took a long, deep breath to keep herself relaxed. It didn’t always help right away, but she knew it would if she tried.
“Take your time.” Lauren stopped twirling her pen, the silence was helpful.
“My brother died.”
“Let’s talk about that, then.” Lauren sat up straighter, lightly stretching her shoulders. “Take your time, though.”
“Okay.” Zoe closed her eyes and took a breath in through her nose, then exhaled through her mouth. “Last year we were in an accident and... he died.” She saw Lauren waiting, so very patient and relaxed.
“It was a car accident... they said...” Zoe began to choke on her words, she could feel a lump forming in her throat and her chin began to quiver. “They... they...” She stammered, her hands beginning to shake.
“Zoe.” Lauren pushed a box of tissues on the table between them closer to Zoe so she could reach if she needed one. “Deep breaths, if this is too hard we can wait until you’re ready.”
Zoe reached up, her hands were shaking as she pressed them to her face, quiet sobs began to escape her lips. “I c-can still hear the metal being crushed and I couldn’t stop screaming! W-We were on a bridge and there were three other cars and... I couldn’t breathe.”
Lauren nodded, “Take a moment to breathe, it’s not happening now...”
Zoe could hear Lauren talking but the images in her head had her distracted, she couldn’t seem to get the flashes of memory to stop throwing things at her. She felt nauseous and her body was rigid and shaking with panic.
“Zoe...” Lauren continued, “Let’s talk about something else... if you aren’t ready, then don’t push yourself.”
She was gasping and trying to unlock her arms from the position they were in against her chest, hands at her chin and folded into tight fists. Zoe sunk into the chair and tried to calm her gasping, her chest was aching and her muscles felt like she’d just spent hours working out. Finally she reached up and raked her hands through her long hair, eyes burning terribly from the amount of crying she had just done.
“I’m sorry.” Zoe finally replied, her voice was nasally as she reached out a shaky hand for a tissue, nearly knocking the box off of the table in her haste. She began to wipe the tears away and then blew her nose. Once she was done she crumbled the tissue in a hand, squeezing it repeatedly.
“No apologizing here.” Lauren smiled softly, “Take a moment to relax and then we’ll talk about something else. When you’re ready, we’ll come back to it.”
Zoe took a moment to gather herself. She’d done her best over the last year to keep those memories at bay, recalling her first few nights after the accident. She didn’t sleep well for days, the trauma drained her and turned her into someone completely different. In honesty, she couldn’t remember the last time she had really enjoyed something. She could remember happier times, difficult as they often were.
She recalled herself being fiery and not afraid to speak her mind. But that day, her first visit to the therapist, revealed to her that she was no longer that girl.
No, she was a shell of her former self. Quiet, perplexed, dying inside. She allowed her shaky hands to be folded in her lap. A sniffle made her decide to grab another tissue, she blew her nose into it.
“Are you ready to talk again?”
“Yeah.” Zoe cleared her throat, “Yeah, I am.” Her heart was still racing rapidly, and the shaking didn’t really give off the image of a girl who was ready to talk.
“Alright, other than what happened last year, is there something in your life right now that is hurting you?”
Zoe wrung her hands absentmindedly. “My parents hate each other.”
“Do you want to talk about it?” Lauren was so patient, she crossed one leg over the other and propped her clipboard upon her knee. She had long legs, and her brown boots were tall and just about hit her knees. Zoe sort of wished she had boots, they seemed to display confidence. She found herself staring down again and shook herself out of a daze.
“Oh... it’s always been like this. They got divorced when I was five and I’ve lived with my dad ever since. My mom and I have always been distant from each other, but I don’t know why.”
“How is your relationship with your father?”
Zoe sighed shakily, still recovering from her panic attack, “He’s protective of me, so I am home schooled right now and he hired a tutor to come and help me with schoolwork since he has so much to do... um... work wise. We get along really well, and we’re sort of all each other has.”
“I see, that’s good. Remember, Zoe... you aren’t alone in this.”
Zoe looked down at her hands, contemplating what Lauren said deeply. Alone... she had never felt more alone in her entire life.
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Zoe found sleep to be evasive the next night. She kept thinking about her first therapy appointment and how embarrassing it was to have a break down like that in front of a complete stranger. She had to remind herself that it was just her therapist, like a doctor. A person wouldn’t get embarrassed for throwing up in front of a doctor who worked in the emergency room, right? She sighed heavily as she rolled onto her side, not particularly interested in getting up and ready for her tutor to show up. Usually she tried to put effort into getting ready, but it was Friday and she was feeling too lazy to try.
“Zoe!”
She shot up, her hair in disarray, it would take forever to brush and probably half a bottle of detangling spray to put back in order. She realized that when she tried to rake her fingers through the long untameable strands.
“Yeah?” She called back, taking a deep breath in through her nostrils before letting out a tired yawn.
“Scott will be here in an hour!” Zoe’s father called up the stairs, she could hear the echo of the high stairwell. “Get dressed and come eat breakfast!”
“Mmmph...” Zoe climbed out of bed, only to stand and collapse to the floor. Her legs felt like jelly and her joints flared up in pain. She closed her eyes and tried to will herself to get up, but the overwhelming fatigue made her not want to. Then she heard her father coming up the stairs, his footsteps were loud and heavy as he ran. Her door shot open and he scrambled over to her side, scooping her up off the floor.
“What happened?” He lifted her with great ease and set her on the edge of the bed, supporting her as if he were concerned that she’d collapse if he let her go. “Zoe, look at me...”
Zoe looked at him, her green eyes glazed over with sadness and frustration. “I’m just tired.”
Her father looked back at her with a great deal of concern on his face, “I know...” He tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and her head nodded as though it was too tiresome to carry it. She gave him a weary smile to try and reassure him, but the worry lines upon his brow didn’t seem to go away.
“Dad...” She reached up and patted his head, “I need to get dressed now.”
He hesitated, still deeply worried about letting her go as he didn’t immediately remove his hands from her shoulders. “Will you be okay on your own?”
Zoe gave him a nod, “Yeah, I’ll be okay.” She wasn’t sure if she was being honest. “I want to try and take a shower before Scott gets here.” She attempted to stand, wobbling at first but then catching herself and smiling triumphantly. “I’ll be okay.”
Still not terribly convinced, her father gave a nod of his own and took a few steps back, holding out his hands in preparation to catch her should she fall again. When she didn’t, she smiled again and ushered him towards the door.
“If you fall again I’m taking you to the emergency room...” He gave a grunt and shook his head, “I should,” He paused, putting emphasis on the word should, “take you to the emergency room...”
“But I’m fine! My feet were just asleep and I was just... too tired to get up.”
He didn’t look at all convinced. “Careful coming down the stairs.”
“I will.” The door shut and Zoe’s shoulders sagged tiredly. “Time to shower...”
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Almost two hours later, Scott Anderson showed up for the usual tutoring session. He had been her tutor for the last two months, and Zoe had become accustomed to him being prompt and on schedule, but being over an hour late was a little unusual.
“Sorry I’m late.” Scott, nearly eighteen, sat down on the couch next to Zoe, a backpack loosely hanging off his shoulder.
“It’s okay.” Zoe observed him, as she often did. His hair was a dark auburn, short and often spikier towards the front. There was something different about him that day though, he seemed tired. She noticed the dark circles under his eyes as he was looking down at a math book in his lap, one he’d fished out of the black and grey backpack next to him. There was also a paleness to his skin she couldn’t quite ignore. She stopped gazing at him when he cleared his throat, brows furrowing deeply.
“How’d it go?” Scott flipped the pages, not really looking at her when he asked her a question.
“How’d it go?” Zoe repeated, then realized what he was asking about. “Oh... therapy. It went alright, Lauren is nice.” She watched Scott rub his thigh slightly and then he glanced at her with half a smile. She couldn’t help but notice it again, the exhaustion on his face.
“Great!” He tried to sound lively, but his voice cracked and he cleared his throat. “That’s good, I really hope it helps you feel better...”
“Yeah, me too. So we’re working on math today?”
Scott nodded slowly, finally settling on a page labeled Pythagorean Theorem. Zoe wasn’t too interested in math, she preferred writing, or art, but Scott seemed to be alright in teaching anything. She considered him a genius and enjoyed listening to him ramble about educational things. Occasionally they had other conversations, but he didn’t seem particularly talkative that afternoon. No, he was really quiet, focusing on showing her how the problems worked rather than giving her indepth explanations. She watched him scribble down problems on lined paper, then stopping often enough for her to notice. He was taking deep breaths and his face was often distorted in discomfort.
“Are you okay?”
“Yeah.” He gave her a short answer, “I’m fine.” He resumed writing, giving her a quick explanation of why she couldn’t put both numbers on one side of the equation. It wasn’t long before she noticed that he was just about as distracted as she was. It was strange for him to act like that, normally he was very focused.
Just as Zoe was thinking about that, the book was abruptly shoved into her lap. Scott dropped the pencil on the floor and darted down the hall. He must not have had time to shut the bathroom door, because Zoe could hear him throwing up very clearly from where she sat. Stunned, she couldn’t decide if she should check on him or let him have his space to gather himself. It was nearly fifteen minutes and many coughs later when he finally appeared from around the corner, having already flushed. He staggered over and fell onto the couch next to Zoe, leaning back while he pressed his palms to his eyes. Concerned, she hesitantly reached to touch his shoulder, not very certain how he’d respond.
“Scott? Are you going to be okay?”
“I’m sorry. I really haven’t felt amazing this afternoon.” Scott sighed heavily and let his hands drop into his lap. “It’s fine though... just kind of nauseous.”
“Maybe we should work on this tomorrow?” Zoe suggested, realizing after she said it that it may have come off as an excuse to get out of doing the math she disliked.
However, Scott didn’t seem to take it that way at all, and he shook his head.
“No.” He replied, “I really do enjoy my weekends, as fun as it is being able to tutor you.” He chuckled, but he didn’t sound all that cheerful. “I’m fine, let’s get back to your math. I think you are really catching on. I...” He cleared his throat again. “I wouldn’t be surprised if you had your grades up to a B soon.”
Zoe really wished she could agree on weekends, but they often gave her too much time to think and she didn’t really enjoy the silence that filled the two story house. She had gotten into the habit of watching television all day, or walking around the house with her earbuds in, music blasting. Scott was a distraction that she welcomed.
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