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-Hunter- - - -
Another day. Another state. Another meaningless face.
I've been moving around since I can remember, it never changes anything. No matter the place, time, or the people the base facts of the matter remain the same.
My dad is still a shitty person.
My life is still broken, jagged at the edges.
My emotions still don't work properly.
Alexithymia.
That's what they called it. My inability to feel certain emotions and experience others as strongly as normal people do. It's basically a nice way of saying that I'm as shattered inside as can be. Both in my heart and my brain.
"It's very common to have a condition similar to this after having experienced such early childhood trauma. A few months of group sessions and one on one therapy with me should help you gradually establish a better connection with your emotions." the new therapist, whose name I hadn't bothered to remember, said.
Like I haven't heard those words before.
The harsh truth that no one seemed to be able to face was that I was unfixable. My dad and all the therapists he sent me to over the years still seemed to hold out hope though.
Hope. Such a strange emotion. One of the more recent definitions in the Urban Dictionary described it as 'the driving force of the universe'. I describe it as a pointless and foolish feeling that the human mind programs in us so we'll think that a simple and meaningless emotion will save everything in our lives, even when it has all fallen to shreds. Hope makes people do reckless things. Hope made my father moved us from London to America three years ago in search of the perfect remedy for my disorder. Hope made my mum wait six years before she finally let go of said father after what he did.
"Hunter? Hunter, did you hear me?" the therapist's voice snapped me out of my thoughts. It takes me a second to register her question before I absent-mindedly shake my head. She lets out a sigh of exhaustion. Or disappointment maybe? I never could tell the difference between those two, seemed like pretty much the same thing to me.
"I was just saying that I talked to your dad and you will no longer be homeschooled as you have been up to now. I think everyday interaction with people your age in a standard environment will be good for you," she repeats herself.
Tell that to the first, and only therapist that seemed to share your absurd notion.
Still, I go along with it, nodding my head once more. Before she can add to her previous statement, probably going to fill the silent space with pointless details about the school that will go through one ear and out the other, something opens the door.
Someone.
A girl walks through the large wooden doors, seeming not to have a care in the world as she strolls through the largely spaced room towards the big desk I'm currently seated in front of. She has long-ish brown hair that rests just below her shoulders, and eyes that I can't quite extinguish the color of. Blue? Green? Gray maybe? She's wearing a black and white striped blouse that falls over one shoulder, leaving the other bare, and a pair of black jeans. She's got black flats on to match and some sort of ring that catches the single beam of sunlight peeking in through the window and reflects in her eyes when she moves to push her hair off her shoulders.
"Melody? What are you doing here, your session isn't until tomorrow." My attention moves from the girl, Melody perhaps, back to the therapist.
"Not apparently to step mummy dearest, Lindsay," Melody responds in what sounds like an indifferent tone.
Lindsay's eyebrows scrunch up "What are you talking about?"
"Something about me being impossible to deal with, getting me to go to therapy more often, going out of the house blah blah blah. I tend to tune out whatever she's saying, wouldn't want my head exploding from her constant whining."
Lindsay sighs and mutters something I can't hear under her breath before standing up from her chair. "I will be right back, I'm so sorry Hunter I will be with you in just a second. Melody you stay in here or the lobby while I sort this out quickly because you aren't on my schedule for today."
Melody finally seems to notice there's a third person in the room and looks down to where I'm seated in the chair. "Fine," she mumbles, her eyes now on mine sending what seems like a faint rush of electricity through me.
Lindsay walks out the same doors Melody walked in through, shaking her head and pinching her nose bridge.
As soon as we're alone in the room Melody walks behind the desk and turns on Lindsay's computer starting to type something into it. From time to time she glances towards the door.
"You know that probably isn't the best idea," I say my eyes flickering between her and the large computer monitor in front of her.
"Didn't ask. Don't care," she responds flatly. A few moments later she smiles lightly and shuts the computer back down. "Too fucking easy," she mutters.
Slight curiosity peaks in me and I ask "What is?"
She looks back at me slightly tilting her head to one side. "Why do you care?"
I don't but it seems more interesting than staring at a wall.
However people usually don't react well to that response so instead I avoid the question and ask "Isn't the computer password protected?"
Melody reaches back towards the computer and pulls off a small sticky note stuck to the front of it that I hadn't paid attention to before. "Lindsay likes routine. For example every morning she writes the names of all the patients she has that day and what they struggle with on a sticky note and puts it on the front of the computer." she hands me said sticky note and sure enough my name is at the top of it.
"Pretty sure you're actually the most interesting case on that list today," she says. Ah so she's read said sticky note. "At the bottom is her password just in case she forgets it. I don't know how she'd manage to do that but it sure as hell makes logging into the computer a lot easier. And for your information, I was fixing my attendance. I don't really want to give my parents another reason to complain."
"What about you?" I ask her.
"What about me?"
"You know what's wrong with me so what's wrong with you?"
"Everything and nothing all at once." the corners of her lips curl up in a slight smile.
I'm about to ask her to elaborate when Lindsay walks back in.
"Ok, I called Rebecca and it was a scheduling mistake, but I think I can fit you in at two pm," she states.
"Don't bother, I have better shit to do anyway," Melody declares already headed for the exit. Before pushing the door open she throws me a quick glance. "I hope I see you around Hunter."
- - -
*semi edited*
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