Emotionless | DAERIN

2: danielle

"Haerin, why can't you feel any emotions again?" the mystery girl asked.

I sighed, "I tell you this all the time. I can feel emotions, I just can't express them."

She looked down and twirled her hair with her fingers. "So does that mean you don't like me?" I looked at her, "You may be annoying almost all the time, but I like being around you."

She smiled, "Even though your face doesn't show it, I can tell you're smiling on the inside." Then, without warning, she leaned over and kissed me on the cheek.

I grabbed my cheek. "Why did you do that? Now I have to wash my face."

She crossed her arms and pouted, "You're such a meany head, Haerin. I kissed you because I love you."

There's that word I hear all the time. What does it mean?

"Let's go play house!" the girl said cheerfully while dragging me by my arm.

"Haerin, wake up! It's 1:30 in the afternoon. You're going to be late for therapy!" my dad hollered at me from down the hall. Yeah, even though they gave up trying to get me to express my emotions, they still make me go to therapy. I don't know why?

I sighed, then rolled out of bed and headed straight to the bathroom. I opened the door, then proceeded to pull down my shorts and sat on the toilet. While on the pot, I heard scratching feet running my way. It was my dog, Red.

His name's Red because he has this red circle on the top of his back. Though I can't remember where it came from, we've had him in our family for over ten years. He may be old now, but he's still a good dog, lazy though. For some reason, he's had this habit of sitting in front of the door while watching me pee or shit until I'm done.

After I finished and washed my hands, Red would leave. "You're a weird dog," I said to him as he left.

I continued my routine by getting dressed and ready to leave. As usual, I grabbed a pencil and my sketchbook and walked out of my room, heading to the car where my dad was waiting impatiently.

"About time you're out. Are you purposely trying to be late?" I don't see why he complains. He knows that I always sleep in late on Saturdays.

"Okay, hurry and buckle up so we can go!" I buckled my seat belt, and once I was buckled, he backed out of the driveway and drove off.

"We only have thirty minutes until your session starts, and it'll take us twenty-five minutes to get there if I hurry," he said, driving a bit faster. This is one bad habit about my dad—he always has to be on time or early for everything, no matter what it is. If we wanted to be early, he should start waking me up earlier, or he could have Mom take me instead.

We pulled in and stopped in the parking lot. I then heard a sigh, and when I looked over, I saw my dad leaning back in his seat, grabbing his chest. He then sat up and looked at me, smiling, "Okay, hun, have a good session this time. I don't want to get another call saying you never showed up or a call saying you were being rude to your therapist again."

"Ok, I won't," I said, getting out of the car before shutting the door. He smiled and waved goodbye and drove off.

I turned back in front of me and began walking into the building that smelled of cinnamon. Gross. Entering the building, I proceeded to head down the hall to my room. I opened the room door, sat down on the couch, and waited for the doctor.

While waiting, I decided to get my sketchbook out and sketch.

"Hello, Haerin. Long time no see," Ms. Adams greeted while walking through the door with a smile.