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𝐁𝐀𝐓𝐓𝐋𝐄𝐅𝐈𝐄𝐋𝐃.
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"ARE YOU SAYING, you feel good that he's gone now?" Ms. Morrell, the school's guidance counselor, asked, "Like, he's finally found peace?"
"I am saying, I don't feel anything. I don't care that he died, I don't care he drowned when he was a kid." I shrugged, slumping back into the chair as I read Ms. Morrell's framed degrees that were sitting on her desk or hung on the wall behind her head, desperately trying not to pay attention to the continuous clicking of her pen, "I don't feel anything for him."
"So you're neutral?" She asked again, making me sigh in annoyance.
My jaw clenched further, "You are a really good psychologist, aren't you?" I spoke my tone laced with sarcasm.
"I am here to help you. If I do that successfully then, yes,─" Another click, "─I am a really good psychologist." She smiled, playing with the pen, twisting it around her fingers, "Tell me more about you."
"What if I don't want to?"
Another click.
"Then what do you propose we do? The mandatory hour will be filled. You might as well choose how we fill it." I did not reply, "How are you feeling about your classmates disappearing?"
"What classmates?" I asked, my brows furrowed.
"Isaac, Erica, Boyd." She listed, "The three runaways. You haven't heard from any of them, have you?"
I kept my expression steady, not showing her I did not have a single knowledge on the matter of their disappearance. Five nights ago, I laid all bloody and beaten up at the dirty floor of the police station. Derek was the one that pulled me out of there, carrying me all the way to our abandoned place. I barely remember what happened after.
