Don't Call Me Crazy (boyxboy)

Chapter 18: The Present

                  

Early this Morning in the Present-

I walked through the hallway, my hand gliding across the wall as I walked. It was kind of ironic actually.

The place I hated most, was the only place I felt myself. I looked at the blank white walls until I made it to his office. My footsteps were quiet as I approached the wooden brown door.

Dr. Alexander Cole Anderson, psychiatric psychologist.

I knocked once before entering. He always told me to just walk in but I knocked out of courtesy. I walked into the room, it had a comfortable atmosphere if I was being totally honest. The walls were tan and it was furnished with two brown shelves filled with files, a wooden desk against them, and two black chairs facing each other.

I looked at Dr. Anderson, his black hair was messy as usual, his big blue-gray eyes snapped up to meet mine. His skin was lightly tan and his features seemed almost feminine. He had on his usual attire. I button up shirt with black pants, and some kind of collar or choker looking thing around his neck.

He smiled at me, standing up from his chair," Good evening, Cameron, how are you today?"

After almost a month, I'd think they'd get the picture. I didn't want or need help.

Dr. Anderson was always so casual, so genuine, and I hated it. He was better than the other shrinks I've had so far. While they seemed to tread lightly around things, he was blunt. I kind of liked the times where he spoke with so much sarcasm, it seemed almost like a new language. He's.....intriguing to say the least. I even found myself trusting him a little bit, even though I haven't said a word to him.

I just stared at him blankly and he sighed sitting down in one of the black chairs and I sat in the other one across from him. I leaned back in the chair, my hands limp in my lap and my head slightly tilted. He crossed his left leg over his right and folded his hands neatly over his crossed legs, a comfortable smile on his face.

"So....are you going to talk to day, or are we going to do that awkward thing where I ramble on for an hour and you sit there giving me that blank look?" he asked, raising an eyebrow.

I sighed looking at him before looking down. It was a reoccurring thing now. He talked, I stared, and then I went back to my room.

"You do know that to get out of here you have to talk to someone. You have to show some sign of improvement, that you can function in society, and while I know you can other people need proof of that. The....incident that occurred isn't something you can just make disappear." He told me.

I continued looking down. My hands shook lightly in my laps and I knew he was right. I didn't want to be here. I wanted to eat real food, sleep in a real bed, to experience life. I really did but I couldn't. Talking about it and vocalizing my thoughts made it real. It meant that I'd have to admit things to myself, things I was too scared to think about.

"Look," he said looking defeated," I know it's hard. I know that you're afraid, but if you want to get out of here you have to work with me and if not for yourself, then do it for someone you love. Someone who would miss you if you were to never come back to them. Someone who loves you as much as you love them."

My head snapped up to look at him directly. I furrowed my eyes in confusion, how did he know?

He looked at me knowingly with an expecting look. I sighed, turning to get comfortable in my chair since I knew talking about it would make me very uncomfortable. I knew he was right, hell he knew that I knew he was right. He sat patiently waiting for me to speak. I looked at him reluctantly.

I'll do it because even though he doesn't know it, I'd do anything for him.....

"Where would you like me to start?" I croaked out, my voice was slightly raspy from the lack of use.

He smiled at encouragingly, strands of black hair falling over his eyes," The beginning is always the best place."

"It all started with....."I began and it took what felt like hours for me to finish telling him, "....and that's everything." I told Dr. Anderson, relaxing back into my chair.

He was the first person I had talked to about everything. I sat uncomfortably starring at the floor as I waited for him to say something. It didn't take long.

"So let me get this straight," he spoke calmly, looking at me with a thoughtful expression," Your foster father was physically and sexually abusing you for 10 plus years, you protected your older brother so he was able to run away, but he never tried to get help. Then he visited you off and on again whenever your parents weren't home. And your parents left for a while on a vacation during the time you chose to have a relationship. When you found out they were coming back, you broke up with your boyfriend because you were afraid that whatever happened with this Elijah person would happen to him. Then that same day they came home, which was earlier then you expect. Around the same time your brother, with the most terrible timing, came home. Then-"

He paused, making me tilt my head at him, my hands starting to shake a little at his intense gaze.

He took a breath and continued," Then when your adoptive father was about to rape you, your brother stabbed him to death. To which your adoptive mother shot your brother, and you then shot her. Do I have that correct?"

"Yes..." I said quietly.

He nodded before glancing at the clock on the wall. "Well our session is over but I am very glad you finally decided to open up. You're a brave kid, and I'm going to work on getting you out of here. It may take a few days because you still have to prove you're mentally healthy enough to go back into society, but I'll talk to my superiors and see what I can do."

I smiled at that. A really smile. For the first time in three weeks I smiled. I was getting out of here.

+plXq