The Story of After

Chapter One

Patience is not one of Angel's strongest virtues. He knew that. Everyone knew that. For anyone looking in that knew him knew that he was impatient. He was tired of waiting. He jingled his keys for the third time that day and bounced his leg while drumming his left hand on the side of his Khakis. He had just gotten out of his high school and was spending his time with a therapist instead of going out with friends. Okay, maybe not with friends but he definitely didn't want to be there. In fact, he wanted to anywhere but the place he was in. It was all-

Angel sucked in a breath and clenched his fists into tight balls.

No Angel. That's unwanted territory, his mind spoke to him as he sighed and slouched into his seat, his fingers no longer touching the side of his pants. He knew that was an unspeakable topic. Just thinking about it made his chest tighten. He could practically feel the air escaping his lungs, the clock definitely too loud. He immediately wrapped his hands around the arms of his chair as he thought about the goodbye he wasn't able to say to her. Or the fact that he didn't want a goodbye. She was his achilles heel. He knew that was true. He clenched his hands until he heard the door open and a man that seemed extremely too young to be a therapist popped his head out the doorway.

"Angel?" He called out to the fragile boy that sat in the chair. Angel nodded curtly and tried to take breath. Even when he inhaled,it was difficult. He sighed and stood up, having regained some of his sanity as he crossed the small waiting room and into the therapist office. As soon as he stepped in, he immediately hated it. The room was incredibly too bright because of the windows that were just across from him. He could get a clear view of downtown Chicago from all angles if he spun around, which he did. He noticed a digital clock hanging right on top of the shrinks desk and papers exceptionally messy as if they were intentionally placed to look that way. In sum, everything looked incredibly staged-something right out of the cheesy movies he had seen millions of times. He turned and noticed the young therapist sitting in a chair and observing him as if he were an animal in a cage. He scoffed and raised an eyebrow.

"Can I help you?" He asked. The therapist shook his head nonchalantly.

"No, I'm fine thank you." The therapist cocked his head a bit to the right. "Can I help you?" He questioned just as he set the pen that he had in his hand on the side table. Angel shook his head and crossed his arms. He didn't need help. He just needed to get this shit over with.

"I don't need your help," he sneered. The therapist raised his eyebrow slightly as he got a bit comfortable in his chair.

"Oh? Can you explain the look of panic you seemed to have outside my office?"

Angel furrowed his eyebrows and felt his anger rise. At the same time, his heart raced. He had no idea the therapist noticed that.

"Yeah, panic because I realized I was in this place," he said, sneering the word place. The therapist sighed and crossed his legs.

"Angel, it's okay to need help-"

Angel wasn't ready to talk about help or anything for that matter. He didn't want to deal with it was it.

"I don't need your help or anyone's for that matter. I just want to get this session over with. Clearly, I'm just wasting your time so I'm gonna go." As Angel spoke, he inched his way towards the door.

"Whose Bianca?" Seconds away from opening the door, Angel stopped, his fingertips brushing the tip of the knob. He Felt the air escaping his lungs and the room getting smaller.

"She seems to have an affect," the therapist said as he shifted. Angel wished that what he said was wrong.

It wasn't. In fact, he was right on target.

"Do you want to discuss it?" The man asked softly. Angel panted, trying to regain the air he had lost.

"No," he croaked. He stumbled to get the doorknob but once he did, he dashed out of the therapist's office- not paying attention to anything around him.