Black (H.S)

3. Silent

It's been three days since Geoffrey has talked me into seeing a counsellor every Sunday. Today's Sunday. The counselling.

Geoffrey mentioned that the counsellor's name is Mr.Styles. He did not tell his first name, not that I am interested. I so wanted to get this over with that I practically forced myself to drive to his office.

Mr.Styles' office was in the room which is only big enough for two arm chairs and a large desk. I chose to sit on the brown velvet covered chair, the other being a blue-green velvet covered one with wooden handles. They both look like they date back to the Victorian Era, and haven't been washed since then. There were windows covering the room, and the sky was clear blue.

On the walls were posters of school kids, declaring how happy they were by telling no to drugs, not participating in unprotected sex and did not have to face teenage pregnancy, how they stood up against bullying and how self harm isn't the answer, and how they dealt with grief. The room was showered with so much positivism that I felt like throwing up. Mr.Styles, the 'amazing', had helped them all.

I expected Mr.Styles to be wise old man with a bald head, in a fancy suit, a head of wild grey hair, a waistcoat with a pocket watch, spectacles standing on the bridge of the nose with an intimidating stare, a brain exploding with knowledge after years and years of treating and research on the human mind. I expected a person who was drowned in wisdom and who spoke proverbs and tried to convince me that the force in me was strong.

When the real Mr.Styles enters the room, I begin to have mixed feelings. One part of me is confused as to how he is a counsellor when he looks so young, but the eighteen-year-old part of me is positively delighted. And I did not like the feeling. He is young, very young. He looks like he had just walked out of college that very day, in his jeans and button up and his curly hair styled in a quiff. I already started judging him before he even go to close the door behind him.

"Hello, Adira. I am Harry," His voice is deep, but bright and cheery. He extended his hand to shake, but I did not take it. I kept looking between him and his hand, and he finally sighed and pulled his hand down.

He sat on the blue-green velvet chair across from me. I look out through the window, and try my best to ignore him. I hope he gets the clue that I have nothing to do with him.

"I hope you are comfortable in this matchbox sized room?" He asks, wrinkling his nose as he settled into the chair, which was burst in the side and had foam spilling out. I rolled me eyes at him and continue to stare out. I know what he is doing, he is trying to act cool. But that's not going to get to me.

"So, how are you today?"

I glare at him, but he doesn't seem fazed by it.

"What is it to you?" I sneer.

He shrugs and says, "I was just trying to start a conversation,"

I roll my eyes again, "I am not interested."

He nods. "What do yo do in your free time?"

I swear, this boy is so annoying. Why is he trying to get on my nerves? He chuckles, finding my anger amusing.

"Anything funny?" I snap.

He shakes his head, "No, nothing's funny."

"Are you planning to talk today? Or are you going to continue this silent treatment?" He asks, raising an eyebrow.

"Why? Is it bothering you?"

"Bothering? No. Annoying? Yes."

"Well, just to inform you, you won't be getting answers anytime soon. So stop trying." I give him one fake smile.

He laughs, dimples digging his cheeks. "I figured that you won't be talking, Adira. Geoffrey has told me about your past therapies."

I shake my head and start playing with my fingers as if they are the most interesting thing in the world.

But, his voice snaps me out from my thoughts. "Don't worry, Adira. You will talk soon. You'll see."

"Keep dreaming," I roll my eyes at his cockiness.

"Keep rolling your eyes. Maybe you'll find another brain back there." He says smugly.

That pisses me off. "You know, counsellors aren't supposed to be cocky douches like you. They are supposed to be sweet and understanding. You are nothing but annoying. I thought you were going to sweet, and I was finally ready to open up to someone. But now that you are here.." I trail. I know I was lying, but I wanted him to feel bad.

"Don't lie to me, Adira. You know you were planning to just ignore who ever was going come. I know that. I wanted to test your limits, I knew you would talk when I act like a douche. And you wouldn't talk if I spoke in a caring manner." He says, as if challenging me to claim otherwise.

I was speechless, "I-I, th-that's not t-true," I stutter.

"You can lie to me how much ever you want, but don't try to lie to yourself," He says.

I was furious. That nerve he has to talk to me like this. I hated him, every single part of him. But mostly I hate his ability to call me out on my lies. This has never happened to me, and I hate the feeling. I hate it when someone takes over my dominance. But most of all, I am scared. Scared that he will change me.

I stand up from the couch and leave his office, without a goodbye. Just like he deserves.

***

 QOTC: What are your thoughts on Adira? Why do you think she thinks that Harry is trying to change her?

A/N: Please vote and comment! :)