➹ LEFT TO LOSE ➷ chishiya s.

SPECIAL ➸ CHAPTER

NOW PLAYING ...
Leaving Tonight • The Neighbourhood

! AUTHORS NOTE !
WHOOPS... uh surprise i'm here? i'm EXTREMELY late, uhhh a lot has happened in my life since the last chapter? i'm in school, i got a job, even a boyfriend? ANYWAY, i hope y'all didn't forget about me just yet!

! AUTHORS WARNING !
okay— i'm not THAT heartless to give this story a bad ending, but i do want to clarify a few things that could be triggering. there will be talks of mental health, past trauma, and just the struggles of life as a survivor. however, these topics aren't glorified or shined in a bad light, it's more brought up to help with a healing process. still, i still felt like it would be best to warn everyone.

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➸ "Our time's almost up." You spoke up into the void, though nothing spoke back. This was one of those moments when the silence was loud, and the air was thick. Subconsciously, you tapped your marble pen on the table, the clicks in a consistent rhythm as you stared at the person before you. What you had just said was the first thing either of you have said in the last ten minutes of your thirty-minute session.

"Right, um," Your client muttered, then cleared her throat. "Sorry for wasting your time, It's just— this was a bad idea."

You watched the timid woman start to gather her belongings, bending down from the cushioned chair to zip up her bag. Even though you can't force someone to talk to you during an appointment, something told you to keep pushing her. From working in the therapy field for nearly 2 years now, you can tell when someone is afraid to speak up, and all this woman needs is a hand to reach out.

"What, asking for help was a bad idea?" Your words extended far enough to make her look up at you from beyond your desk, eyebrows furrowed at your reaction. "Why do you think that, exactly?"

The young woman blinked away from you, eyes now staggering from her left shoe to her right. "Well, because I don't want to talk about it yet, I'm... not ready."

You nodded at her words, sliding your papers to the side so you can cross your arms loosely on the desk. "It being everything, correct?"

It's not that she just didn't want to talk, she didn't know how to put everything into words. So, it was your job to do that for her, and hopefully help her cope better by hearing it out loud. So, when she nodded her head at your statement, you continued.

"Your struggles with your career, a healthy view of your identity, a sense of closure for the unfinished, and the unwanted publicity shining on you as you walk on the street." You listed everything you gathered from her few minutes of giving you crumbs about her life from this first therapy session, though even without her saying a word, you can just tell that she's been through a lot. "That is your everything, and it's a lot to carry. Yet, although you want help, you don't know how to ask, as you've never considered it an option in the first place."

The woman was stunned, swallowing harshly as her hands began to sweat. She tucked her palms in between her legs to keep them from twitching too much, as it was a natural bad habit she had picked up on. The listener didn't respond, just did what they did best and allowed you to finish your feedback.