Forgotten Pleasure | Venable vs Winters [Book 2]

Chapter 17 | Photograph

It's been a few days since your break up with Lana. You go back to your villa and it doesn't feel the same ever since. The past few days have been odd. You've been unwinding but you're not getting enough rest. You're physically healed but you're still mentally and emotionally exhausted.

Plus, you're not seeing anyone else but Vince when he pays you a visit to check on you every other day. It's a great thing that Cecilia didn't force you to show up otherwise you won't be going either.

You decided to go see a therapist to get help on helping yourself. You texted Vince that you want to have therapy. He said that he knows a psychologist and he sent you the details of the clinic.

You're currently on your way to see Doctor Ellie, you contact her and set an appointment. You knock on the door and waited for her. The door swings open and there's a light brown-haired lady in front of you. "You must be (y/n)? Please, come in." She has a calming voice and she lends a space for you to enter her clinic.

There's a brown wide couch and you sit in the middle. She closes the door and saunters to settle in the chair in front of you. "Before we start, I want to ask you why are you afraid of having therapy and what changed your mind?" The doctor rests the notepad on her lap as she asks.

Your eyes are dragged to the upper left of your vision as you think of the possible reason why. "I'm not entirely sure but I guess it's because when my mom died, my brother and I were forced to visit a therapist. They weren't helpful because it made things worst. Wanting to get myself mentally stable made me change my mind about visiting a therapist once again." When you turn your eyes on her, she's staring at you.

You swallow a lump that's blocking you to continue speaking, "I'm not entirely sure if that's the real reason or maybe because whenever I see a doctor things end up pretty bad." Your fingers are meddling with one another.

The psychologist tips her head down as she scribbles on her paper. "Can you tell me your basic personal information? Like your full name, age, and date of birth." She just interrogates as she continues writing.

"My name is (y/n) (l/n), I'm twenty-six, and my birthday is on June third." You face your head down to your fingers as they are fidgeting.

There's a brief hum that comes out of her mouth. "Alright, can you tell me about your family?" You hear quiet taps that are caused by her pen hitting the pad.

You pick up the cream-colored throw pillow beside you and put it over your thighs. "My mom is Evangeline Dove Steinford, she was a celebrity and my dad is Martin Finnegan, he's an artist. I had a little brother named Miquel but he died a few years after my mom died, he died in another car accident." When you're telling what you can dig inside your memories, you can't help but stop yourself because it's getting painful with each word you say.

Again, she pens down something on her paper. "I see, what about your childhood till growing up? Would you tell me?" Doctor Ellie starts to talk once again after she's done writing.

It pains you to continue your responding but you have to do this to answer your questions. "My childhood was fun until my mom died. My aunt told me that my mom run away from my dad when I was twelve because he became abusive." You say those words as if you're not fully sure of the details while you're tunneling down memory lane.

Finally, you face ahead to your psychologist and she's just nodding her head, not interrupting your storytelling. "Soon after Mom died, my brother and I were put under the custody of my father. He already has a new family so we lived with our stepmother and step-siblings. I have already forgotten about them but I know that they didn't treat us well."

Your chest goes up and down as you take a deep breath and let it out before proceeding again. "I met my current best friend at high school and before I graduated high school, my little brother died. I ran from home as soon as I graduated because my dad blamed me for his death." As you're narrating your story, you're also hearing the scratches of the tip of her pen against the skin of the paper. "I live at my best friend's mansion for a while till I moved for college-"