Wonderland

❅H37❅ Let's Talk Therapy

Chapter Thirty-Seven

Heather's POV

Let's Talk Therapy

December 2

"What classes are you taking next quarter?" Isabelle asked me. She plopped down beside me on my bed and grinned goofily at me.

I shrugged. My registration time was this morning, but I didn't bother waking up to register for any classes. I haven't been feeling entirely well these past few days. Maybe it had something to do with Brayden, maybe it had something to do with my dad, or maybe it had something to do with me. For whatever the reason, I just didn't feel like doing anything. For the first time in my life, I skipped classes. To add to that, I haven't even started on my homework, even though I know I should have because it's due in a few days.

For some reason, I just found myself not caring anymore. Everything felt dead to me.

"You didn't register?" Isabelle said, taken aback.

"Maybe I'll take a quarter off," I muttered, tracing patterns into the ceiling with my eyes. Brayden texted me at least a dozen times last night and today, but I ignored them all. I was still angry with him.

"That's such a bad idea, though."

I shrugged again. "Doesn't seem too bad."

"Are you hungry?" Isabelle asked, lightly touching my hand. "I haven't seen you eat in a while."

"I eat whenever you're not here," I lied.

"Oh. Well... You wanna go to the IMA and get our grooves on? Lose some weight or something? Hang out?"

"No, thanks," I said, turning my head slightly so that I could look at her. "I just feel like resting."

"It's been a week since your surgery, though. Are you still feeling so unwell?"

"No." I sat up and straightened my hair. I suddenly gasped, remembering something. "What time is it?"

Isabelle looked down at the watch around her wrist. "It's nearing four. Why? Do you have somewhere to be?"

Crud. My therapy sessions. They start today at five thirty. "Yes," I said, getting up and hurrying over to my closet. Throwing on a jacket and tugging my boots over my feet, I headed for the door. "I'll see you tonight, Isabelle."

"Um, sure," she said, confused. "Have fun."

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Over the past few days, I had considered skipping out on my therapy sessions. However, I thought about the amount of money my dad was paying for this, and I felt bad if I skipped, so I decided it was better to go. I should put his money to good use.

Feeling as if I was reliving my eleven-year-old days again, I trudged into the therapy building an hour after leaving my dorm. The woman behind the front desk looked up from her computer when she heard me enter the building.

"Good evening," she said, warmly, her eyes following me.

"Hi," I murmured. "I think I have an appointment today at five thirty?"

"Yes. What is your name, please?"

"Heather Forde."

"Okay. Let me check for you, hon." Scrolling through a list of things on her computer, I waited patiently for her to pull up my information. A few seconds later, she did. "Ah ha, there you are. I'll let Dr. Kelley know you're here. In the meantime, please take a seat."