Love Is...

-21-

Song: "Thank You For Loving Me" by Marion Raven

Please check out jarfff 's Aleheather One Shots book!💖

⚠️Content warning⚠️: LONG sex scene. Idk I guess I just got caught up😉

**

"Let's start with this question. How did that make you feel? When he hit you?"

Heather scooted uncomfortably in the cushioned chair. She crossed her arms. "I didn't want to come here, just so you know."

"Alright. You're free to leave since you checked yourself in," the therapist said.

"I—well—" Heather reluctantly sighed. "Whatever. I just want to feel better."

"Then I strongly recommend talking to me, or at least another therapist about this." She smiled gently.

Heather scoffed. "Why are you people so—nice?"

"We're not nice. We're therapists," she laughed. "We are non-biased, which means we can look at every side of a story without judgment. But we are also unafraid to tell you the truth. And the truth is, sometimes things are difficult to talk about because they make us uncomfortable. And I think the first step to healing is getting your feelings out."

Heather pursed her lips. Telling Alejandro made me feel better. Maybe—maybe telling her will, too. "Um," she rubbed her arm. "When he hit me, I just felt really—worthless. I know, it's so stupid because I know that it's his fault, but I felt like a bad girlfriend."

"Heather," the therapist began. "Your feelings are not stupid. That's what he wanted you to feel like. He wanted you to feel like you were a terrible girlfriend because that gave him power over you. And I hate to hear you invalidating your feelings. You have every right to feel the way you did."

Heather let out a breath as relief washed over her. She wasn't used to how Alejandro and her therapist were responding to her vulnerability. "I mean—it doesn't matter anymore. My stupid feelings are irrelevant because we're not together anymore."

"As long as you still have them, feelings are always relevant," the therapist replied. "And since you're coming here, I assume you still have them?"

"—Yes. But I hate talking about them," Heather answered with a scowl.

"Tell me." She crossed her legs. "Why do you hate talking about them?"

"Because they're pointless."

"Why are they pointless?"

"I don't know!" Heather threw her arms up and let them fall back to her sides.

"What's the first word that comes to mind when you think of feelings or emotions?" her therapist asked.

"Weakness," Heather spat.

"What have your parents taught you about your feelings?"

"Well, I don't know. My mom said that if I show too much weakness, people will think I'm pathetic. And it's true, because every time I was sad in front of my mom, she told me to put makeup over my tears."

"Hmm." The therapist looked at Heather with sympathy. "It sounds like your mom never really validated your feelings."

"I can't stand her." Heather crossed her arms. "She always has to insult me on what I'm wearing, what my makeup looks like, or how I'm acting that day," her voice faltered, and tears welled in her eyes.

"And how does that make you feel?"

"Just—worthless. The same way Chandler made me feel."

The therapist handed her a green box of tissues. Heather took the box but kept her jaw clenched so she wouldn't cry. "Heather, do you have someone you can talk to? Someone safe?"