"It's Not Real."

Part 1

Wednesday
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More therapy. It was tiring, having to explain how you felt to this prim and perfect person in-front of you and have them pick your mind apart bit by bit.

It made your skin crawl. A sick feeling in your stomach every time she'd prod you for more information on what happened when you were in his hands.

You watch the clock closely, fidgeting with your hands as you sat on the couch, wanting nothing more than to leave. You knew you couldn't, it was mandatory you go to these hour long sessions every week, that or be admitted to the mental ward again.

You'd rather deal with this bitch every week then be trapped in a building away from your Husband.

"Y/N? Did you hear me?" The woman in-front of you asks, snapping you out of your trance.

"No.." you reply bluntly

That got her attention. "No?" She asked softly, leaning forward in her chair

"You didn't hear anything I just said? You're here to heal. To become whole again. If you do not want to get better, then why are you here?" She raised a eyebrow, her pen hovering above the notebook in her lap.

"Because I have to." You respond, not looking at her, eyes drifting around the spotless office, it was so organized that it almost resembled an operating room it made you uncomfortable, why did your old Therapist have to retire?? This place sucked.

"But you don't want to?" She asked, still watching you carefully. She made a note with her pen, then looked down at whatever she'd written for a few moments.

When she looked back up, it was just as a mother would scolding her child "You're making your husband worry about you. You can't be like this. You need to start talking."

You clench your jaw, it was true, Simon had expressed his worries on the hour drive here, he had noticed your withdrawn nature and was worried that you'd have a relapse in your mental state when he had to leave for a mission soon.

You didn't like how she tried to use your husband as a way to get you to talk. You wouldn't fall for that manipulation.

The therapist's watch suddenly chimes, making you flinch slightly. Your session was over. You could finally leave.

The therapist stood as she looked down at her watch. She looked at you for a moment, seeming to think on what to say.

She seemed to reach a decision, then, and smiled "Y/N, I want to see you again next Wednesday. Do you understand?" As she spoke, her tone softened, becoming warmer.

Her face also lit up and her voice almoset sounded like a friendly mother's "If you do that, then we'll do an exercise where we try and find what's been making you retreat like this. Okay, sweetheart?"

You grimace at the thought, leaving her office and finding Simon in the waiting room, who looks up at you expectantly.

You keep your arms close to your body, you didnt like being here, everything was so.. methodical. Like the people coming here were simply puzzles to be solved, not humans.

"Can we go please?" You ask him softly

He nodded his head. He knew full and well that your new therapy sessions were difficult and exhausting. As he sat up from his seat, he saw just how uncomfortable your body language was.

"Alright, love." Simon said, his words dripping with concern and worry, knowing that you must be feeling pretty uncomfortable in this situation. He took your hand as he walked towards the door.