Reality Separated By A Lens (Boy x Boy) #Wattys2016

Chapter 3: Therapy (Sam POV)

  So obviously I've been concerned about wether or not Nate saw me taking pictures of him. Also, if he did see me, did he think I was weird?

  Well hell yeah! Probably! Like, he literally saw me taking photos of him. The real question would be, did he call the cops on me? Am I supposed to be waiting for a restraining order to come in the mail or something? He probably thinks I'm a stalker for Christ's sakes!

  Well, at least I had therapy today as well as the night before to clear my head about what happened. I know that it sounds odd. I like therapy. I'm twisted in the sense that I feel normal when I'm sitting in a circle hearing about how hard everybody else's lives are. Their pain, as terrible as it sounds, is oddly therapeutic to me. I know it sounds selfish but it's not cause I enjoy their pain. It's cause their pain allows me to escape me own hardship.

  Okay, yeah. That sounds pretty selfish. Not going to lie. But, I do empathize with the other people in my group.

  For example, one girl was in a car accident with her drunk father and he died. She lost her leg and that was considered lucky. Obviously, knowing her dad was dead was painful enough but the constant reminder every time you look at that damn nub of a limb and think of your father... I know I wouldn't be able to cope.

  Constant glares of judgement and pity from strangers. I dont know what was hardest for her. I mean, she ended up killing herself. So I guess in the end she wasn't able to cope either...

  She was a sweet girl too. She always seemed so happy despite the predicament she was in. But I guess she had therapy for a reason, right?

I wish I could've done something...

  But thats in the past. I've lost people before and I know from experience that thinking about it too much will cause you to self implode.

  I walked into the bricked building that sat in the middle of a pretty much empty parking lot, aside from the few cars that had been parked by employees and such. The building seemed small in width but it was actually a lot larger. When I stepped inside, I felt a warm brush of air hit my face. I was met with a front desk sat by a lady who was a small, hispanic woman, decently attractive and middle aged. She had light brown eyes and long, soft black hair. Her accent was faded but still there. It was nice.

  "Hello Sam! Come right this way! The meeting already started but Avery will be more than happy to see you!"

  Despite being a psychiatrist who is considered a doctor, Avery made us call him by his first name instead of his last or simply 'doctor'. It was pretty obvious why. He wanted to be relatable to us so we weren't so likely to shy away from speaking.

  The lady had led me into a large room which was accompanied by a circle of troubled teens, Avery sitting in the middle. The room had dark, maroon walls and light grey tiled floors.

  The teens and Avery sat in simple pull out metal chairs as Avery had each person summarize their week. He sat in the middle to make us feel like only he had the spotlight so we wouldn't feel to pressured when it came our time to speak.

  He was a younger man for a doctor. Probably in his early thirties. He had short, dirty blonde hair and deep blue eyes. His lips were thin and curved slightly upwards to make it seem like he always had this, oddly handsome grin. His skin was an olive tone and he had somewhat of a five o'clock shadow. He seemed mature but he really did have the vibrance of a child. He was odd but definitely in an appealing way.

  Though, I wasnt focused on him. Sitting on the first seat to the left of me was none other then Nate. Nate Jackson. Great. Just great. So much for enjoying therapy.