In A Week I Will Be Dead

Chapter Eleven: Executioner

!!!TW!!!

References to assult, suicide references

IF STRUGGLING, CALL THE SAMARITANS ON 116 123 <3 <3 <3

Noah

The thing about Mrs Webb is her eyes. She can read you like a flipping book, and it can get really goddam annoying. I can't lie to her, which leaves only telling the truth. This I find is very exhausting, so I end up silent. But those eyes though – seriously, it's like she's not even human.

'How are you feeling today Noah?'

'Fine.'

I hear a sigh of impatience protrude from her lips as she leans forward onto her elbows. With her gangly limbs and her blackened eyes, she really does look like a spider. This makes me chortle, because her name and her personality fit so well together.

'Something funny Noah?'

'Sorry, no Mrs Webb.'

I'm no expert on therapists, but I bet they're supposed to be really nice and welcoming. I'm like a little fly buzzing around her head, no more than an irritation. I sink lower into the chair, desperately trying to avoid looking into her absorbing eyes.

'Have you been taking your prescription?'

Now, this is the moment I'm supposed to think the stereotypical 'of course not I flush them down the toilet', but in actual fact I do take my pills. I take them every day. Not just because they make me feel like I'm high or something, it's because they really do make me feel in control. I don't feel as hollow, so damn down all the time. It's more of an unwelcome throbbing than a searing pinch. Before pills, I was a completely different person. I took them of course, but not by day. By second.

'Yes.'

'That's really good to hear Noah. Really, really good indeed.' She leans backwards, and I hear every single bone in her elbows make an uninvited clicking noise. It's the same kind of noise a neck makes when hugged by a noose.

'Have you started that journal yet?'

'No.'

'It could help you?'

'No.'

'You never know if you don't find out.'

I sigh. I contemplate telling her about the letters I've been receiving, but think against it. What if the person doesn't actually exist? What if it's a prank that's lasted a little bit too long? She continues, 'why not?'

'I've been...reading.'

'That's brilliant Noah!' I could tell by her voice that it was certainly a brilliant affair, and not 'really, really good indeed' one.

'What kind of stuff?'

'Oh...you know...just whatever really.'

'Well this is definitely something that you should continue. I'm very proud of how far you've come.'

'Thanks Mrs Webb.' This is now one of those really awkward situations when you really want to just leave, but because you're British you don't quite know how to approach the topic. It's been like two minutes and I already want to leave.

'Umm, would it be possible if I left now? It's just that I'm at a really serious part of my book and just really want to know what happens next.'

'Sure thing Noah. See you this time next week.'

I blink in disbelief. Just like that? The session is over just like that?

'Thanks, bye Mrs Webb.'

As I close the door to my problems, a ping announces the arrival of somebody else's.