Grey

10.

Greyson's POV

"Greyson have you been having any troubling thoughts lately?"

I rolled my eyes. I was trapped inside of a stuffy office. An office that I'd been forced to visit for 2 years now. The room was dimly lit. There was a desk on one side of the room completely covered in papers like a paper machee table cloth. There was a stiff looking couch on the other side of the room up against the wall with a large pillow. The office was painted a very bland professional beige color with faceless picture frames filled with paintings of cliched sunsets and birds. There are also two arm chairs in the middle of the room facing each other. I sat in one of them facing Dr. Rowling, my personal psychiatrist for my scheduled therapy session.

"I know you hate discussing your feelings but I would appreciate it if you would cooperate with me. I'm here to help you."

I sighed. I was so sick and tired of this.

"No, you're being paid to help me and I don't need your help."

"Everyone needs help sometimes." He said folding his hands in that pretentious way, that signaled to me that he was trying to remain professional.

"Well I don't. I'm fine." I said. I refused to make this easy for him.

"Last year you-"

"Why does everyone keep bringing up last year!? I've changed."

"I'm not denying that but you are battling a serious illness."

"I don't have an illness."

"Depression is an illness Greyson, a serious one that you can't just ignore."

I'd had it. I was done with all of the psychiatrists constantly telling me that there was something wrong with me. I got up from the chair prepared to walk out. My hand was already on the doorknob before he spoke again.

"If you don't cooperate with me, your mother has instructed me to make a recommendation for you to seek institutionalized treatment again."

"I am not going back to that hospital." I said firmly.

"If you walk out of here then I will have no choice but to send you back, now please sit down."

I gave a cry of irritation and threw myself back down in the chair frustratedly grabbing a fistful of my hair to keep myself from punching a wall or damaging one of his stupid picture frames.

"Do you blackmail all of your patients?"

"Only when I feel like they may be a danger to themselves or others."

"I'm not a danger to myself or anyone else."

"Well that's for me to decide. Now I'm going to ask you again. Have you been having any troubling thoughts lately?

"No."

"Greyson it's your choice to cooperate. Not cooperating though is only going to hurt you."

"Okay fine! If I cooperate can we end this session early?" I asked completely exhausted and fed up with this.

"Deal." He said smirking. I rolled my eyes I seriously wanted out of this damned office.

"Okay. Well before I'll admit I was scared that I was relapsing but I'm fine now."

"What do you mean by relapsing?" He asked getting that squinty look in his eyes whenever he decides to latch onto something I say like a leech sucking the life out of some poor helpless creature.

"I was having trouble sleeping and eating. I would have racing thoughts and I just didn't feel normal or happy."

"What kind of thoughts?"