Keep Dreaming

Tough Love part II - Owen's POV

I sat doing nothing for the next half hour. I popped a paracetamol in my mouth, hoping it wouldn't only ail my physical headache, but the headache I was about to get from this meeting...
Or whatever it was.

After a while, I checked my watch and realised the hour was upon me. I groaned and stood up from my desk. I caught Tosh looking at me as I started making my way to Erin's office, looking away as soon as I glanced in her direction. I thought this was Tosh's usual staring - nothing out of the ordinary - but as I continued on, I noticed a few more glances, and I felt a pit forming in the base of my stomach.
By the time I made my way up the stairs to Erin's office, I felt surprisingly apprehensive about it. I knocked sheepishly on the door.
"Come on in, Owen."

I inhaled sharply before pushing the door open. I looked around the room as I tentatively made my way inside. It was surprisingly big, considering we had all known it as the "box room" for so long
- conjuring up an image of a minuscule storage room. Always passing by, never having been inside.
Now, it smelled obnoxiously sweet, like it had been doused in floral perfume, and it was fairly bare since it was only recently cleared out.
Erin was sitting behind a desk, opposite which was a solitary stool. I didn't like the openness of the room - it forced me to focus on Erin, and Erin alone. I sat down in the chair, looking at her expectantly, and she stared right back at me as though she was waiting for me to say something. I shifted uncomfortably, but kept direct eye contact. I couldn't help but notice minute details about her that I hadn't seen properly before: her curly auburn hair; her pale skin; her brown eyes; her freckled chest-
"My eyes are up here."
She said in that sharp, staccato Scottish accent, but smiled at me in a sickly-sweet manner. I stuttered initially, trying to explain that I was looking at her freckles - then realising that I sounded stupid, so I stopped.

Why did I care what she thought, anyway?

I sat rigidly on the stool, my back straight as a board and my hands balled into fists. Everything I was doing in an effort to hide how awkward, uncomfortable and irritated I was only made me look more so.
I looked around the bare office, noticing how close we were, how isolated it was. I couldn't help but stare at Erin, and she knew it; there wasn't anywhere else to look.
Finally I spoke up, trying to ignore how she'd called my staring out.
"Why am I here?"
"To discuss your behaviour."
She said, smile fading and expression turning more serious.
"I'm a therapist. It's not only my job - I joined this sector because I have an innate interest in the motive behind people's actions. I just... want you to see if you can find a real reason why you are so rude to me."
I scoffed, completely uninterested in this therapy bullshit. I leant back in the chair, one hand supporting my chin, eyes narrowed. I paused, sucking air through my teeth before speaking again.
"You want to know the real reason?"
Erin nodded, with that stupid "understanding" expression of hers that really just made my blood boil.
"Fine. I dislike you because you're a nosy, annoying, smarmy, self-important, self-absorbed twat."
Erin nodded and kissed her teeth, as though she was taking this in. She sat like that for about a minute, just... thinking. Then, out of nowhere, she leaned forward in her seat.
"Really? Or do you dislike me because you're afraid to confront the feelings you've hidden from yourself since Katie died? I've read your files Owen. I know what happened."
I could've sworn the world stopped for a moment. My head was spinning, and I was momentarily stunned into silence. When I processed what she had said, I saw red. I was absolutely seething, trying my hardest not to let it show, only because I didn't want to let her get the satisfaction of getting a rise out of me.
But she'd said too much, I didn't know what else she knew, or how she knew it, or who could've told her. What else did she know about me? About Katie? Did Gwen or Jack tell her what happened?
Usually it was easier to just ignore it. Push it deep, deep down.
"That's got nothing to do with this."
I growled through gritted teeth. Erin narrowed her eyes and continued, seemingly unphased by my anger.
"Are you sure? Because it seems like you can't talk about your feelings, and hide them by lashing out or joking, or making snide comments. And now that I'm here, you want me gone so you don't ever have to confront those feelings. But they'll come back whether you want them to or not, Owen, and you know that. There's only so much hiding you can do before they confront you, one way or another. Maybe it's in those moments that you're sober. Maybe it's when you're alone. A memory haunts you, and you can't stand it. So you work yourself to the bone, drink, and sleep with people so your mind doesn't have a chance to let those thoughts seep in."
I pulsed with anger. She knew about my substance abuse; about my anger issues; about my sexual proclivity. She knew I drank to get rid of the pain, drank to forget Katie. She did know me, and it was unbearable. I opened my mouth to launch an assault of verbal daggers, but nothing more than a mutter managed to escape my mouth:
"Shut up."
Erin's voice rose, only slightly - not shouting, but speaking with an air of assertiveness I had never before heard from her.
"No, Owen. You think it's okay because the only person you're being destructive to is yourself - but it hurts so many others too. I won't shut up, because I want to help you get better, and I can't do that by pushing the problem under the rug and ignoring it."