When Max saw Phoenix, her conversation with Hannah and Dillon the day before came rushing back. She felt a wave of sadness for him.
But she didn't have time to dwell on him. She made her way towards Dr. Rodriguez's office, and sat down. He looked like a nice man, maybe in his mid-thirties, with browned skin and glasses. That was her first impression of her new therapist.
"So what brings you in today, Max?" he asked, smiling. His voice was soft. Emotionless.
"I...there's something wrong with me. It's just...every time I get in a crowd, or any sort of a tight space, I can't breathe. It's like...I can't put it into words."
"When did this start?" he asked.
"Well, I've never been a big fan of crowds, but in ninth grade, I went to a concert with my friends. And everyone there was high, or drunk, or just....crazy. They were all screaming and singing the lyrics, and it was so overwhelming. I just sort of blacked out. When I woke up, I was in an ambulance. And it's been really bad ever since."
"I read in your record that you've been seeing therapists since around the end of your ninth grade year...have any of them helped you?"
"No, sir. None of them understand it. They give me meds for anxiety, but so far, none of them have helped. They tell me to avoid crowds, but that's not possible."
"Have you tried meditating?" he asked. She was caught off guard.
"No, actually," she said. "One of them taught me a breathing technique, but it's sort of crap."
"Try meditating. Find somewhere quiet to think, close your eyes, and breathe. Think up a happy place, and just keep adding to it. I'm not sure if this will help you, but it has helped me in the past."
"Thank you," she said. "I'll try it this afternoon,"
"Good," he smiled, and she left.
YOU ARE READING
Malefica
أدب المراهقين"Can't you see...it's this town...there's something wrong with it. It's like a poison, and once it gets inside of you...you're gone...it takes all of the good, and twists and twists until there's nothing left. It's this town." Malefica, to...
