My Warfstache Princess

Chapter 20

I hold Tiny Box Tim in my lap as the nurse wheels me towards where ever they were taking me. I told the nurse that I wouldn't leave the room unless I brought him with me. The nurse turns us into a pastel blue walled room. The floor was tan wood unlike the tiled flooring everywhere else. A black couch sat on the far wall with two blue pillows sitting on top of it. Two gray end tables sat on each side of the couch. A white vase with tall grass poking out of it sat on one of the end tables. A gray rug was underneath the couch and end tables. A matching blue arm chair was across the couch. No desk was in there for the therapist.

The nurse helps me out of the wheel chair and onto the couch. I fix the borrowed maroon sweatshirt that the hospital gave to me. The nurse leaves. The therapist walks in. He takes one look at me before glancing down at his clipboard. I squeeze Tiny Box Tim's small hand.

The therapist takes a seat in the arm chair. He sets his leg on his other knee. I cross my legs in the baggy gray sweat pants.

He glances up at me. "How are you feeling, Aria?"

I shift around, hesitating to answer. "I'm feeling fine. A little worn out. Tired."

"That's good." He replies, glancing back down at his clipboard once more. He reads something before setting it aside. His fingers intertwine with each other. "Tell me a little about yourself. It can be about anything."

I nod my head. "Um... Well, there's not much to know about me. I was a small town girl. Born and raised in Wisconsin. My mother died when I was sixteen. I moved here when I graduated. I animate for a living while my friends go out and have actual jobs."

He nods his head. "At what point did you think you were depressed?"

"I'd say maybe thirteen. I was going into middle school and my friends were making new friends. I was never good at making friends so instead of fighting with them, I expressed my pain with tiny scars on my hands."

"Did it get worse when your mother died?" I nod my head. He scribbles something down. "How did your mother die, if you don't mind me asking."

I sigh. "She died in a car crash. I was the one behind the wheel, learning how to drive." I look down at Tiny Box Tim. "I always blamed myself for her death."

Some more scribbling. "Did you ever tell anyone about your condition before or after your mother died?"

I shake my head. "I didn't have any friends to talk to then and I didn't want to tell my father about it. I didn't want to worry him."

Scribbles. "Have you went to a doctor and talked about your depression?"

I shake my head. "I haven't. Although." He looks up at me. I look at him. "I do want to change."

He intertwines his fingers again. "That's a good thing to hear. What is the reason?"

I glance down at Tim. "I saw the good memories I had with my roommates. With my father. With my mother. I figured that I want to stay here longer than I thought."

He nods his head. "Well, to do that, you have to go on anti depressants and see a therapist."

I smile a little. "That's all right! My roommate is a therapist. She got me through a lot when I moved in with my roommates."

The therapist smiles. "What about the pills?"

"I'll take them if they help me."

He scribbles down some things. "Very good. That's all we time for today."

Authors note: I know this may or May not progressed the story but I wanted to establish some background info about Aria and I thought it would have been cool to show this than skipping over it