Nova's P.O.V:
He was here the very next day. Papers filled out.
I was surprised, patients usually took their time, but at the same time, I was expecting him.
"I'm sorry I looked you up" I broke the silence. "It was wrong of me, how about you tell about yourself?"
"How about you tell me about you?" He mirrored. "How do I know if I can trust you? What if you die on me?"
"Is that why you prefer to be alone?"
"Do you like being a therapist because no one can trust you without the title?"
"Those are bold words," I commented.
"And yours weren't?"
I didn't reply, my gaze fixated on the nineteen-year-old in front of me, not even touching my pen or paper that rested on my desk.
"I want to help you, but you have to want to help yourself."
"Help myself with what? I just had one session or 5 at most with each of them. We weren't freaking close."
"How do you feel when you think about Dr Gallagher?" I looked at the name of his first therapist.
"Nothing."
His face gave nothing away, his posture didn't change.
"Aidan Washinton?"
"Nothing."
"Emily Roberts?"
"Nothing."
"Dr Tomlinson?"
His shoulders tensed, his jaw clenched, he didn't say a word.
Dr Edward James Tomlinson. One of the most humble therapists known in the city, he had left around a year back, all the way across the country to start a new life and help new people. Evander's late mother's therapist.
"How do you know about him?"
"Your files have been released to me" I looked at him calmly, this was something I'd never admit during the first few sessions to anyone but he....he was different, it felt different. I was scared, anxious, curious. I needed safety, precaution, and answers, only he could give me the final one but more than any of that? I wanted to help him and the only way I could do that was by gaining his trust, which meant being honest.
"We can leave the question if you don't feel comfortable but if you could, please try to answer."
"I have a game to attend." He got up and then looked at me. "And to answer your question he killed my mother, Nicasia Annora De Leòn...I mean Nova"
With that he was gone, his last words sending chills down my spine as I stared where he sat. He knew who I was.
YOU ARE READING
Cube.
Short Story❝There is no truth which is entirely true. ❞ Evander Ambrose Hale. Despite his mature name, a nineteen-year-old, whose previous therapists all committed suicide and no one knew why, their notes just had three words on them, scribbled in a hurry or...
