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TW: mentions of suicide

I was looking over the story demographics and was surprised to find people from all over the world! Where are you from, dear reader?:)

I was looking over the story demographics and was surprised to find people from all over the world! Where are you from, dear reader?:)

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thirteen


"I CAN'T SEE YOU ANYMORE," Yelena declared as she entered Donald's office, taking a seat on the couch in front of the desk. Pen in hand, the man looked up from his stack of papers with a raised brow.

"Changes in eyesight can be a side effect from the tablets you've been taking."

"Not in that sense, you wet egg," Yelena replied, picking at her nail beds. She looked up and met the doctor's curious green eyes. "We can't fuck anymore."

"Oh," The man sounded dejectedly, but nodded, nevertheless. He got to his feet, walked around his desk and took a seat at Yelena's side. "How so?"

"I met someone," She spoke, almost dreamily as Thomas's blue gaze appeared behind her shut eyes. She smiled at the memory; her thoughts have been consumed by him ever since they shared that breathtaking kiss. The feel of his hands gripping at her body... She longed for more.

"I understand," Donald said as he leaned into the couch. "Where did you meet him?"

"Through a friend," She replied vaguely, with a wave to her hand, her fingers fluttering with the gesture.

"Those types of friends?" He inquired, well aware of Yelena's ties to criminal organizations. She rarely spoke of it, but he wasn't an idiot; he read the papers.

"Don, we don't talk about that." Yelena shot him a dark look. It needed to remain unsaid.

"I'm looking out for your safety, that's all," Don justified, arms raised in surrender. "Don't get yourself involved in anything you can't handle. Being involved with these types of people, you can never be too careful. Someone might use you to get to your brother, or whichever other man you get yourself entangled with."

"You don't have to worry you're pretty little head about me," Yelena spoke with a soft smile, gently kicking the man's leg. "I can take care of myself."

"Can you?"

          The woman remained silent, avoiding the therapist's gaze as she stared blankly ahead. She cleared her throat.

"Can you refer me to another doctor?" She asked. "Just, despite, you know, I still... Want to get better. Therapy is helping."

          Donald hid his smile, knowing how reticent the woman had been during their first few meetings. She practically had to be dragged by her brother's men to attend their appointments. She had, nevertheless, made remarkable progress.

"Of course," The man agreed. "Does the man you've been seeing know?"

"About the therapy?" The woman tested, pursing her lips as she replied. "Might have mentioned it once or twice."

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