The Dorm

Chapter Five

Author's Note: I have never properly been to therapy, so I don't know if this therapy scene is fully accurate. If you are thinking of therapy, do not use my writing as a piece of evidence one way or the other because I'm completely guessing at what it might be like.

Trigger Warnings (therapy, implied sexual assault/abuse, referenced childhood abuse)

"Hey Susie! How's your week been?"

I plastered on a small smile for the green fire elemental sitting in front of me. "Hey Fuku. It's been... well, I'm still here."

Fuku, my therapist, cocked her head. I'm one of her first patients, and we had a more experienced therapists sit in with us for our first few sessions. Considering she's only a few years older than me and just got her license, she's doing pretty well. "School giving you problems?"

"Well, yes, but... well, I- fuck, um..."

She leaned back in her chair. "Take your time, but also spit it out. You know I'm not going to judge you." I let out a small laugh, claws kneading the worn blue couch I was sitting on.

I took a deep breath before talking. "It's... been a rough week. Lot's of homework, which doesn't help fuck shit. My mental health has kinda been going through the shitter and I don't think my meds are working properly."

Fuku immediately cut me off. "What's wrong with them?"

I shrugged. "I dunno. They're working better than the stuff we've tried in the past, but I feel like I'm in a haze all the time. Nothing feels right. My mental health is generally better, but I don't really feel anything."

My therapist nodded. A spark jumped from her head onto her chair. It fizzled out before catching anything on fire. Every time I saw it, it still confused me. How does she not light everything on fire? Oh well.

"I'll put in a word to you psychiatrist."

"Thanks." I stopped, really trying to think about what the fuck I wanted to say. "I've been trying to use coping mechanisms like playing trombone when my brain goes to hell. It works. But, uh... something kinda... happened."

Fuku leaned forward, her flames flickering. The warmth of her body radiated toward me and helped my muscles unclench. 

I took another breath. "Friday night, Noelle came back to our dorm. She made us eggs. She kissed me on the nose. I could tell that she wanted more, so I kissed her. I'd hoped it would satisfy her, but it didn't. I... I didn't want to, but I didn't say no. It's not her fault. She didn't know that..." 

My throat closed. Tears swelled up in my eyes. Fuku handed me a pillow. It was burning hot, like a heating pad. I hugged it tight to my torso.

"I can't stop thinking about it. I feel dirty. I can feel cuts reopening on my wrists, but I haven't. I almost got fired yesterday because I couldn't stop thinking about it. It's making me lash out. I had to pretend to be exhausted last night so I could just go to bed."

Silence surrounded us. My stomach knotted. Bile rose in my throat. Fuku sat across from me, thinking. She broke the silence with, "I think you know what I'm going to say."

"Talk to her," I muttered. "I know."

Fuku nodded. "It doesn't have to be now, you know. Wait. Play trombone. Let yourself feel how shitty this is, then let it pass over you. I know it's easier said than done, but you've been getting so much better. Think of where you were even last year compared to now. I know I've never met Noelle, but you've told me enough that I think I know that she will love and support you no matter what."

I groaned. "I know. That's the problem. I know she doesn't want to hurt me, but I keep putting myself in situations where she does without even knowing it. It's like I'm back there, letting Him hurt me, except I did it to myself this time."