Her Male Model

Shattered

Author's note: thanks to everyone who commented on the last chapter in the last year!❤️ I can't promise to be consistent, but I wanted to post to say thanks for the support!

TW: talking about past emotional/physical/sexual abuse

"So at what age did you realize you yearn for female approval?" Cindy asks, smiling.

I stare at her and she stares right back. My 'therapist' is on one today. I stopped answering her ludicrous questions about ten minutes ago, after which her questions went from strange to straight up wild. The question before this one she asked if I was missing my 'guardian', and needed to give her a call. I was missing Kat, but that's none of her business.

"I don't 'yearn' for female approval. I never have." I bite out.

The pink haired woman gives me a sad, knowing smile, and I struggle not to tell her off as I so desperately want to.

"You don't have to lie here. This is a safe place, Coal." When I don't respond, she looks back down to add more notes into that wretched little pink book of hers. I want to tear that thing up page by page.

Cindy looks back up at me, and I know her next question is going to be a bad one. Each of her questions are little arrows, fired until one hits the mark. She's trying to get me to break, so she can put me back together again. Her efforts in that regard are futile. I've been through hell and back: if she thinks some feisty comments will make me break, she obviously doesn't know me at all.

"Do you believe your current guardian fills a motherly role that was absent in your early life?" She asks,

We stare at one another, both so silent that the only sound in the room is the ticking of the clock in the corner. Motherly role?? Where did Kat find this woman??

"Listen lady, I don't what fucking online school you got your fake psychology degree from, but you can take your imaginary diploma and shove it up your ass. I'm done listening to this."

I get up and go to storm out, not bothering to look back. Kat is going to fucking tear me apart for this, but I shouldn't have to waste my time listening to this woman bitch.

Before I can make my escape, a phone ringing interrupts the deadly silence. I turn back slowly with a hand on the door, and find Cindy holding up her phone on speaker, staring right at me. It's a threat if I've ever seen one. How professional. Calling Kat like I'm some naughty kid causing a scene at school. But God, it works. I imagine Kat answering the phone and getting fucking pissed, and not in a sexy, controlled way. In a neck strained, hands shaking, march out of a meeting to whoop my ass type of way.

I slowly saunter back to my chair, and when I sit, I clench the seat until my knuckles turn white. The therapist cancels the call.

"Tell me about your childhood, Mr. Ryder. And don't lie and tell me it was fine, because we both know it was not."

I grit my teeth. I wish it was fine. Maybe then I would be golfing right now with some friends and not listening to this crackpot.

"I grew up in a big, cold house."

Cindy almost smiles as she opens up her notebook.

"Cold in what way?"

"It was drafty."

She looks at me completely unamused. Fuck, I really don't want to do this. I'd rather be an alligators chew toy than talk about my childhood right now...Kat being the alligator, obviously.

"Fine. I'll talk, just give me a minute? Jesus."

Cindy holds up her hands, and we wait a few minutes in silence while I attempt to figure out what to say on my own terms. How do I describe my childhood? Are there even enough words in the English language to articulate a train wreck of that magnitude?