Fractured Heartstrings

Ch. 24

Alyssa's POV
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I love dogs and all, but shouldn't alcohol truly be a man's best friend (or woman's best friend for that matter). It cannot talk back to you - no matter how desperately you yell at your half empty glass of cheap red wine. And it makes you feel great and forget everything about ignorant blonde hockey players.

Alcohol replenished my soul with freedom from ease. Similarly made me feeling like the queen of England ruling over, only I was ruling over the mice in my apartment. I hadn't exactly terminated the mice as I promised myself weeks ago.

I unsteadily walked along the sidewalk, my only destination being the traumatizing therapy home. I had been hauled into therapy by my unhelpful roommate whom had forced me to go. Originally I thought it would be an amazing experience - but it's truthfully. Living hell where I confess my burning hate towards heartbreak and love itself.

Turns out in marriage therapy you truly do need a legal spouse and something about some legal licence. Luckily I had the sweetest therapist Stefania, whom had snook me past the rules or laws or whatever.

I guess I'm somewhat glad my parents were constantly arguing or fighting, in fact - my parents had a strict sex schedule. Monday nights at eleven, chilling noises, scarring memories.

I stepped in the awkwardly silent waiting room, oddly greeted by a group of elderly looking couples - whom sat across the room from each other. I would personally love to stock the grey-haired with some booze and loud blasting music during an exempt of a break-in (since we'd all need some location for the outrageous party) - obviously the law suggests not.

I giggled at my brilliant idea, catching glares of annoyance. I shrugged and took a seat on the terribly uncomfortable chair, something similar to sitting on a solid rock with pinned nails. Obviously the seat wasn't as unbearably painful, but it seemed somewhat similar.

"Alyssa Nylander," the lady called, making my lips play a smirk as I arose from my seat. The eyes of the old crowd gestured towards me as I fashionably walked past the seniors.

I knew this place in and out, memorized and etched into my brain - well, at least the bathroom's directions were. Attempting to lock yourself in a washroom that's build in an maze, is harder to get to than it looks. Especially when you're half lit and consistently bumping your head into the wall.

"Hello again," Stefania said sternly. Supposedly she was nice and bubbly - obviously when I drink I'm not actually with or aware of logic nor reality.

I spotted the newly installed couch and jumped happily onto it. Hoping to enlighten the mood and harsh atmosphere including of those feelings directed towards me and my childish ways.

Yeah, not always are things whispered considered unheard.

"Are you aware that William is now too going here?" She calmly asked, loudly flipping through her blank papers.

"Well isn't that marvellous!" I exclaimed sarcastically, clapping both my hands together as I plainly smiled.

Clearly I wasn't happy with the fact he was also going here. That just boosted the chances of us actually bumping into each other again - and that's something I'm trying very hard to avoid.

"Does he talk about me?" I questioned, leaning forward as I awaited for my answer.

"Well, why don't you ask him?"

I rolled my eyes and learned back into the couch, "well maybe because I have some angry feelings towards him and his pitiful blue eyes and perfect flowing hair!" I scoffed while proceeding to mimic his gestures.