Please, with a Cherry on top? | 18+

43 | Saint

A/N: TRIGGER WARNING — Mention of suicide attempt. Some sad themes.

Sorry for the wait. I missed y'all <3

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"I want you to know that if there are any topics you'd rather not discuss yet, you're free to make that clear at any time, Saint."

The teenager gave a slight nod without comment, eyes flicking to her before resuming their slow sweep of the room.

"You mentioned that the hospital released you after 120 hours..."

For a moment, Saint felt as though his forearm was exposed. He fiddled with the sleeve at his wrist and tugged it until the cuff squeezed his palm, the imagery of the angry wound laced tight with sutures coursing through his mind.

The first time he had gone to clean it alone, he ended up stuck counting. There were 17 of the tiny threads, and he remembered thinking it was ironic.

The woman continued in his silence, "How have you been feeling the last few days?"

"Tired," Saint answered after a while.

The older woman studied him from her armchair, legs crossed and hands resting lightly in her lap. After a moment of her staring, his eyes finally acknowledged her again.

"Do you have another question?" he asked dryly.

She got right to it, "Have you been having any thoughts about attempting again?"

Saint shrugged, his nails scraping briefly against his palm before he stilled them, "Does the memory count?"

"I'd say no." the therapist's voice was steady, "Not without intent."

Right. Just because it's a thought doesn't make it solid or true. And it doesn't mean that thought will ever manifest externally.

That's where intent comes in.

"Then no," he said simply, "But I recount the memory often."

"That must be exhausting," her pen tapped lightly against her notepad before stopping, "You said you felt tired. Do you mean physically or emotionally?"

"Both."

"Would you like to talk about why that is?"

"How long will this take?" Saint ignored her question.

As it was, he couldn't possibly imagine having the energy, nor the will, to maintain this for long.

"You're scheduled for the next hour," she continued unbothered, her eyes barely blinking as she followed his questioning, "but you are not forced to stay."

Saint immediately shook his head, swallowing the irritation at himself as he wasn't clear with what he was asking. For a moment, he wondered if the hour would drag or fly by if he stayed silent.

He decided to push on.

"How long will I have to come here and talk with you?" Saint tried again.

"For as long as you choose to," she said evenly.

"So you say," Saint said blankly, giving up on his question and directing his attention to the flashing clock.

The therapist adjusted the cat-eye frames perched on her nose, "Are you in a hurry?"

He nodded slowly after thinking over her words, "Something like that."

I don't want to pass more time feeling like this.