"Are you going to tell my parents?" I asked.
He sighed, "By law, I have too."
The tears really started to fall but it was the silent cry where you can still talk and function there's just a steady flow of tears coming from your eyes, "I know."
"You do know I am a certified clinical psychologist, right?" he asked and I shook my head confused, "Will you talk to me like I am your psychologist instead of your teacher for a few minutes."
"Yes, sir." I said.
He took a deep breath and looked down to his folded hands on the desk then back at me, "Did you hurt your wrist?"
"Yes."
"Did you draw blood?"
"Yes."
He looked down to my wrist that I had covered with my sleeve, "Can I see?" I hesitantly held out my arm and looked away from him so I would have to watch as he examined my butchered up arm. He Rolled my sleeve up to my elbow then flipped my arm so it was palm facing up. I felt his fingers run over my skin, I winced because some of the cuts were not healed yet. He got up and went to his desk and pulled out a first aid kit before sitting back down with me. I still haven't made eye contact. He took out some alcohol wipes and started to wipe down my arm. I gave a small yelp and tried to pull away but he kept a firm grip on my fragile arm. He then took out an ace bandage and wrapped it around my wounds.
"I'm sorry." I whispered just so he could barely hear it.
"This isn't good Lex." we made eye contact.
I shook my head, "I know."
"Why?" he asked.
"It's complicated, petty drama. I promise." I said.
He smirked, "For some reason I feel like it's not."
I shook my head, "It is."
"I want to help." he urged.
I sighed, "I'm just stressed."
"About what?"
"A lot."
"Elaborate." he said.
I paused, "Are you sure? I don't want to burden you with information you don't want to know."
"I want to know, you're not a burden." he shook his head.
I took a deep breath, "Those notes have me stressed and feeling really terrible about myself and my dad just went in for another surgery so I'm constantly paranoid if I'm going to wake up one day and no longer have a dad. My mom is only a few days away from her due date. My parents should have all of their attention focused on the baby and not their suicidal daughter. My boyfriend left a bruise on me and he's never done that before, ever. I don't think it was on purpose but it still happened. My grades aren't great and I'm waiting to be kicked off the gymnastics team but as this point I don't really care because I feel like there's too much other stuff going on in my life for me to be completely focused on gymnastics. I feel like I'm disconnected with my friends and I'm just being a loner in general." my cries turned into uncontrolable sobs.
"Do you feel better? Getting all of that off your chest?" he asked.
"I guess." I shrugged.
"I think therapy would benefit you." he said.
I sighed, "I don't want to be locked up."
He laughed, "You're not. You just see someone once a week and just talk."
