The Bitter Start.

Chapter One

Why do you think that there is not some deep, dark, feeling in your heart or mind after your painful experience? Brant asked, trying a new scenario of trying to get me to speak about the past. He knows about it all, that I do have recollection of the whole ordeal, even though I refuse to acknowledge it to anyone.

Moving to start fresh three years ago at age fourteen, I threw away everything I used to be. Now? I act normal. I try not to be so weird around people anymore. Try not to be myself.

There would have to be an experience for me to know. I say, looking at my nails disinterested but trying to not let it show. He writes something down and goes for a different tact.

Damn Dr. Tweed. He just never gives up.

What is the last memory you have had of him? He asks and I tense for a moment. Calm down, aliyah, this is just one of his rare, more forward rebuttals. Forcing myself to relax into a comfortable stance, I decide to go for careful. Brant and I have done this dance well before we moved to this God forsaken place, him being my therapist for the past five years. Yes, my mother was comfortable enough in her life, that she could afford to keep the good doctor afloat all her lonesome, enough to get him to move here and have me as his only client for the first full month.

My last memory of him? Care to elaborate? I ask and he raises his eyebrows. Its amazing the patience he gives during these sessions. Its almost as if he actually cares, but I refuse to submit to a reason like that.

Do you really want to hear his name? I shrug, acting confused.

Okay, what was your last memory of Lance? He said and I take in a silent breath and sigh, rubbing my eyes. I know that Ive schooled my reactions, Im in control of the emotions I put out, and even though Im so tired of talking about this I act as if its new, every single week I come here.

Well, the last memory I had, was of him calling me. I said and his eyes shot up to mine, trying to suppress the look of shock and curiosity that had flitted across his face. He always had been terrible at keeping his emotions at bay, so I wasn't surprised that he let those pesky feelings through before he coated his professional persona on again, trying to shrug off that I actually answered this one seriously.

Be more elaborate, if you will. He said and I close my eyes, conjured up the memory and slowly opened my eyes, looking to Brant with the same emotion I had before. Boredom.

Well, I was just turning fifteen. Two days after was my birthday. I was icing the new bruise I had on my face from fighting again, my mom was at work, and my step dad was in a meeting. I murmured out, finally telling him. He urged me to go further into the story and I ran a hand through my black locks. The only reason for me telling him this one thing is I figure hed back off about the rest.

The fights were always deliberate. It was always when I got angry, and I fought with one of the eight men that evolved around the schools bad-ass guy. I made show like it was a big deal, when I rolled my eyes after.

Once again that day, my anger lead me to win the latest fight, and I had put peas on my face to make the swelling go down. Mom always hated it when I fought, so o thought if i iced everything before she showed up, she wouldn't be able to tell the difference. It was then I got a call. I said and he nodded but stayed silent. I laid back, looking towards the ceiling. when he knew I wasnt going to say anymore, he spoke.

And what did he say? What happened? He said and I rolled my eyes, sitting back up. I put my elbows on my legs and my head on my entwined fingers, leaning forward to study the man. I blinked to him, to his faux calm demeanor, and almost laughed at him. Almost.