Shatter Love [FP Sequel]

[2] pinpoint

conrad

"Mister Wilkins, I'm here to help you, and I cannot do that if you won't allow me to."

I hated it; I hated everything about it. I hated Mr. Roland's choppy, southern way of enveloping words, the way he addressed me as mister — a title that indicated a certain respect that didn't exist in his usage of the word. I hated the way his blue, much-too-light eyes watched my every move, looking at me as a puzzle rather than a person. I hated the way his wrinkled fingers gripped his pen, beads of sweat rolling down its smooth sides. Most of all, I hated his fakeness: bleached teeth, black hair that should've been well on its way to becoming white, and lifts to keep the bags under his eyes from showing. They said that you needed to be true to yourself and others, but to what extent did they follow their own advice?

I said simply: "It's hard."

His eyes widened — as though just those two words had picked a lock deep inside my mind. I squirmed on the leather chair, not just irritated — but uncomfortable.

"I know that this is a very hard process for you," He soothed, putting emphasis on you, "But the sooner you open up — the sooner I can help you and you won't have to keep coming back here each week."

I shook my head, "It's not that easy."

"I know that it's not, believe me," Mr. Roland sighed, running a hand — with difficulty — through his hair, "But that doesn't help us. Your mother gave explicit instructions that we'd continue these sessions until we've pinpointed the issues you're dealing with and resolved them. We can resolve them, but only if you commit yourself to trying harder."

"I've told you lots of my problems," I said lightly, "And I'm still the same person that I was when I first came here. What's the point of trying, if there's no progress being made?"

Mr. Roland sighed heavily, leaning back in his chair as he adjusted his wide-rimmed Gucci glasses — a fact I only knew due to his habit of taking them off to clean them at least once per session in order to "preserve" them. He used the same excuse for adjusting his silk and linen suits that only went down to his bony ankles, revealing loafers which always tapped incessantly on the floor.

An apology tried to force its way out of my mouth but was held back by imaginary bonds. My comments did have a bit of truth to them: it wasn't as though I craved Saturday mornings, when my mother and I drove forty-five minutes to get to Mr. Roland's office, all while listening to lecture after lecture about how this was what was best for me. But like most new aspects of my life: it was never what I wanted or what I thought was best.

Always me before you, I supposed.

Mr. Roland suddenly leaned back forward, cracking his knuckles before he took up his pen and clipboard again. He lifted his gaze, eyes focusing for a few moments.

"You've been increasingly upset during each session," He mused, "I wonder...if it's not that the therapy isn't working...but that the problems are worsening."

My heartbeat quickened, "I wouldn't be able to tell you," I replied coolly.

"Come on, we've got — " He brought his watch up to his face "— thirty-five minutes left, and like you said: we haven't made any progress yet. Indulge me."

I lowered my eyes. It was always a tough struggle. I'd been in this position too many times to resist laughing in his face and telling him of course not. But my heart had other plans, and today — it took its course.

There was a crushing embarrassment afterwards, as there always was. The lemony-mint smell of the office became foggy, and my perfect vision suddenly blurry. Mr. Roland escorted me out with his hand on my shoulder, tapping twice before telling me that everything would be just fine.

One thing I had to give Mr. Roland credit for: he'd always been a terrific liar.

* * *

Hey guys!

Happy late Father's Day [for some of you]! Exam week is finally over [Thank God] and it is now summertime for me! So be prepared for more frequent updates [hopefully] and more progress on my other works [maybe] lol.

And I know this was pretty uneventful but don't worry: Maya will be coming very soon :D.

Also, the target contest is still going on so if you haven't already, please consider voting on the blurb and Chapter 1 of the Sugar Slump within the next day! Thank you all so much for the support! ❤️

Anyways, are you guys still liking Conrad's POV? Let me know in the comments! Love you all!

xoxo,
twyla

P. S. How do you guys like the new cover? I like it because it finally fits with the one for Flicker Pain! :D