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"STUCK WITH ME, DIPSHIT

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"STUCK WITH ME, DIPSHIT.."

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DR. GIBSON'S OFFICE, 3:00 PM.

Shifting in place, the sickly sweet scent of butterscotch candies and artificial ocean themed candles fills the air. Her gut churned uncomfortably at the strong smell. It was like a grandmother had thrown up in here and the smell lingered. Turning her focus back onto Dr Gibson, the older woman is smiling brightly at her.

It was a little creepy, but it felt genuine. Smiling uncomfortably back, she swears she was trapped in some other world because when did things become so weird all of a sudden? Things normally felt smooth. But, it's not. Digging her nails into the palm of her hand, her teeth grit together tightly, her jaw clenched.

'Natasha~'

"So your father opened up about your Mother, that's amazing! Soon, he'll be more open with having conversations about moving on." Dr Gibson explains, smiling.

"Yeah, but I'm still missing some details. So...yeah." Natasha shrugs, "But, it's a start, right?"

"It is, especially considering he doesn't attend frequent meetings like you. But, we should applaud him for doing so on his own. I suggest you don't try to pressure him into giving this information you want. We don't know how he'll react." Dr Gibson explains, nodding her head.

"Okay." She nods.

Okay, don't push it. Fair enough. Nodding her head in understanding, she relaxes slightly, but the churning feeling in her gut doesn't go away. Why did she feel like this? It wasn't normal, but then again. She wasn't normal. So it made sense in a way? Chewing on the inside of her cheek, there's a slight tremble in her hand. Clasping her other hand over it, her eyes darted over to the clock.

'Natasha~'

"I...Thanks for taking me in so early, I know you're busy. But⎯um⎯I'm gonna go now." She stutters out, slowly itching her way up.

"Are you okay?"

"Yeah! Why wouldn't I be? I just think I need to go home. I said everything I already said. No need to keep this going on, you know?" She rambles on, flashing her a nervous smile.

Nodding her head, she quickly gathers her things, stuffing her notebook into her bag. She needed to get out of here. She just couldn't stay in here anymore. Tightly gripping the strap of her bag, Dr Gibson stands up, her hands carefully outstretched. She slowly walks over to her, treating her like she was a cornered animal.

And it only makes her feel worse. She wasn't psycho. She wasn't going psycho. And she certainly wasn't some kind of cornered animal. Keeping her head and eyes down, she scrambles to open the front door. A gust of fresh air hits her right in the face and she is thankful for it. She needed that.

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