"Whenever you're ready."
"I'm not suicidal you know."
"That is lovely to hear, but that's not why you're here."
"You said here twice."
She puckered her lips, in an attempt to snuff out a sigh, and looked up at the digital clock perfectly placed diagonally on a shelf.
Five minutes.
We have sat here for five minutes, yet it has felt like an eternity. Neither one of us wanting to tuck our tails between our legs.
"Eleni, why are you here?"
This time, it was me who sighed. I fidgeted with the loose strand of green stitching on the couch. This was all new to me, it felt too... personal, too real, too raw.
"I want to talk. I want to be able to express my feelings freely, but I can't. Not out there are least."
The brown wooden chair creeked as she relaxed into the seat. The paint chipping away as she continued to pick at it.
She pushed her glasses back up her nose and her green eyes watched me. Studied me. She flashed her pearly whites and nodded, causing her long tight curls to bob with her.
"That's a great start, now we know why you're here. To talk."
"All of this is confidential, right?"
She laughed softly, "Of course, anything and everything you say within this room is confidential. Unless you reveal to want to harm yourself or others."
"Okay. Then I wanna start with a girl, her name was Estella."
YOU ARE READING
The Oldest Daughter's Diary
SonstigesEleni's life seemed black and white. No escape. Suffocating. Controlled. She was the oldest in her family and needed an escape. So she found one, through writing. But who was Eleni really? Why did she protect her diary so much? What was written i...
