Therapy Session (Mac Prison)

Twenty One: Please Listen

Tuesday finally came around for Trisha, and thank god for it. Things at home had been tense with Michael. He had been coming home later than usual, and had always seemed to be in a bad mood as soon as he saw Trisha. She didn't understand why, either. She hadn't left him hanging on their anniversary. But she tried not to let it get to her, and instead studied the inmate files she had brought home. Hannah seemed to have sensed the disturbance between her parents, and was much more ready to do chores whenever her mother asked. Trisha didn't like it, but hell, she couldn't do anything at the moment. She was busy with all of her work.

She was sitting in her office organizing her filing cabinet when there was a knock on her door. "Come in!" Mac entered, though he avoided eye contact with her. He sat on the couch and stared at the ground, and when Trisha walked by he didn't move. "Hello Mac." She greeted him, trying to behave as if Thursday hadn't happened.

Mac didn't say anything.

"How are you?" Trisha pressed, knowing that Mac probably wasn't going to cooperate that day.

Again Mac was silent, glaring at the floor. Trisha sighed and sat back, crossing her legs as she stared up at the ceiling. "Mac I'm sorry, about what happened last week. It was very unprofessional of me."

Mac scoffed. "Since when did professionalism stop ya before?" He demanded.

Trisha bit her lip and sighed. "I just... wasn't in my right mind. I'd had a bad night, and I needed to relieve stress-"

"So yer solution was to come here and fuck me?" He growled.

Trisha was quiet, and she stared down at her lap. "Jesus told me what happened. About how you were in the janitor closet drunk and-"

"What?" Mac cut her off, sitting up and glaring at her.

Trisha swallowed a bit. "Jesus came to me afterwards and told me what you were doing-"

"What'd he say?" Mac demanded.

"Pardon?"

"What the fuck did he say?" Mac spat, clenching the cushions with his fists.

Trisha jumped a bit at his harsh tone. "He said that you were drunk." She said.

"What else?"

"That's it. You were drunk and you rambled a little bit." Trisha said, taking a wide berth around the fact that he had wanted to hurt her.

Mac narrowed his eyes at her, studying her closely. "Yer lyin'." He muttered. "The fuck happened?"

Trisha shifted. "According to him, y-you said that you wanted to..."

Mac sat back, glancing off to the side. "I know." He muttered.

Trisha was quiet, almost expecting him to apologize for wanting to hurt her. It was only polite, right? Then he sat back with a sigh, rubbing his face in his hands as he stared up at the ceiling. Something was bothering him, Trisha knew it. "Mac? Do you want to talk?"

He glanced at her. "Why the hell would I talk to you?" He demanded.

Trisha sighed and stared down at her lap. "I'm sorry, I really am." She mumbled.

Mac growled softly. "I ain't acceptin' yer apology." He declared.

"I don't blame you." She admitted, tapping her pen against the clipboard.

Silence ensued, and Mac kept his eyes focused on the ceiling, and Trisha could tell that a lot was running through his head. She wanted to help him again, but damn, clearly he didn't trust her. She couldn't blame him, either. He had opened himself up to her and she tried using him to please herself. And after he had admitted that he thought he was a monster. She didn't want him thinking that way, but what the hell could she do? The most she could do was listen to whatever he wanted to say.