Reasons Why (Jeremy Shada Fan Fiction)

Chapter 25: Confrontation

My mom stops the car outside the entrance to the therapist’s. I groan, from the pain of being on crutches all day and wanting to just go home. “Hon, you have to do this.” Mom says beside me.

“Mom, I wasn’t groaning about that. I was groaning because I don’t want to hobble around on crutches anymore. And school wasn’t exactly fun.” I open the door.

“It’ll get better. You only have those crutches for a little while longer!” She says, cheery. I give her a fake but convincing smile in return. “Got your phone?”

I hobble onto the sidewalk and face her, “Yeah, why wouldn’t I? I don’t go anywhere without it.”

“Just checking, see you in an hour!” She smiles. I close the door and start going towards the door to the office. Jeez, Mom. You’re really excited about this. But I guess it’s better than the last time. I reach the receptionist’s desk.

“Hello there, sweetheart. Do you have an appointment?” The dark haired receptionist’s hands fly over the keyboard.

“Yes, I have an appointment with Dr. Brayden. I’m Taylor Swuarez.” I shift on my crutches, trying to make the pain ease off in my armpits.

“Yes, Miss. Swuarez. You can go right back. It’s the second hallway. Third room on the right.” She points down the corridor. I nod and start in that direction. I turn down hallway and reach the door. I knock on the closed door. A moment later, a young voice tells me to come in. I open the door and hobble in.

A man in his thirties maybe mid-twenties stands behind a medium-sized oak desk. He has dark brown hair, almost the same shade as Jeremy’s hair, that’s gelled up in the front. His deep brown eyes behind simple black square-framed glasses take me in. He smiles kindly at me and walks around his desk, “Hello, you must be Taylor. Please, have a seat. I would think getting off those crutches is probably the most important thing on your mind right now.” He gestures to the brown leather chairs sat facing each other.

I hobble over to a chair. I sit down with a sigh of relief and put my foot out in front of me. “It does feel good to sit down. Spending a whole day on them is tiring.”

He nods and takes the seat across from me, “I tore my ACL back in high school. It felt like I was never going to get off crutches.”

I look down at my boot, “How’d you do that?”

“Track. I was a hurdler.” He picks up a pad of paper from the table beside the chair.

“I do Track. I do long distance races. In the fall, I do cross country.”

“It’s a good way to blow off some steam. I’m guessing you did that little number while running?” He points at my foot.

“Yeah, sprained it pretty good.” I wiggle my toes.

He nods, “Well, now that we warmed up, we should get down to business. As you can tell, I’m pretty young and I like to keep these sessions pretty relaxed. Your mom told me you’ve gone to therapy before?” I nod, “Well, then you know how this goes. Tell me, what’s been on your mind?”

“Well…” I ponder this for a moment, “A lot, actually. I’ve had a relapse with my depression.”

He scribbles something down, “Were you on medication? And for how long?”

“Yes, I was on it for approximately six months.”

“That’s not very long. Why were you able to get off of it so soon?”

“We moved here. About halfway through my eighth grade year, my dad was hired with Stone Carver’s. Over the next few months, we would fly out here over long weekends. Since I wasn’t in an environment that I was used to being in, I was able to start to move on from what had happened to me. Before we left, my old therapist took me off of it because of the fact I was going to be in a place that wasn’t going to remind me of my past.”