Selfish Appetite [5 Seconds of Summer]

[1] Sloan Alicia Bennett

"-Don't let the ghosts and the ghouls disturb you, love.
-Darling, the only ghoul in the house is you. "

- -

"Sloan... Sloan."

The sound of my name makes me blink, pulling me from the fog. I hadn't even realized I'd zoned out.

"Yes." I murmur, forcing my eyes to focus on Alex's face. His expression is patient, but there's a hint of concern creeping into the corners of his eyes.

"You zoned out again."

"I'm sorry." I reply automatically, but it's more out of habit than actual remorse.

"Don't apologize." he says with a smirk, leaning back in his chair. "I get paid whether you talk to me or not."

I can't help but roll my eyes. "You're the worst therapist ever, you know that?" 

I'm in the chair across from Alex, arms folded tightly over my chest, trying to feel some semblance of control. The chair is too soft, sinking slightly beneath my weight, but not in a comforting way.

I don't want to be here today. I don't want to think about anything.

Not about him. Not about the years I lost. Not about the mess I'm still trying to untangle.

"What were you thinking about?" he asks, his tone shifting, serious now. I try to meet his gaze, but my eyes flick to the grey wall behind him, feeling the weight of it pressing against my chest.

Ian, don't do this. Don't fucking do this.
Shut the fuck up, already. Fuck, Sloan! Fuck this. Fuck you.

I shake my head, trying to push the memories back. I meet Alex's gaze again, realizing he's waiting for me to say something.

I'm thinking about the end. The tears. The shouting. How it felt like my chest was about to collapse, how it felt like the walls were closing in on me, even though I had just regained my freedom.

Two years ago, on the dot, I was free.

Broken, but free.
Lost, but free.
Thinking about the ceasing of all existence, but free.

I let him break me, but I think the worst part is that I let him. I handed him my heart like it was some kind of offering, and he stabbed it over and over, taking tiny pieces with each cut. I don't think he even realized the damage he caused.

To this day, Ian has no idea the toll he's taken on my life.

I don't know where the pain ends either.

Every now and then, something surfaces, some new feeling, some new thought, and it's been two full years since we parted. Isn't it unfair? That I'm paying seventy dollars an hour to fix what he broke, while he's out there under the delusion that he helped me?

It's tragic. It's laughable.

"Ian." I say finally, my voice raw.

"What about him?" Alex prompts.

What about him?

Why did I love him? What was it about him that I thought was worth it? All the reasons I could have given when I was nineteen, when I first started seeing him, seem distant now.

They seem so absurd.

I seem absurd.

Younger me seems insane.

Was it even love? Or was it just a need for something? A need for a male presence, for a relationship that could soothe the emptiness I felt inside?

Sloan, you're insane. You're fucking crazy.