Numb

Prologue

An uncomfortable buzz filled the air as my therapist, Dr. Young, and I stared each other down. Dr. Young, a lady who is sought out by mostly men due to her "experience", but if you ask me, it's not her experience in therapy.
      I've been coming to her for almost a year now, yet I still feel unwelcome and out of place. She always tells me the same thing every time, "You can tell me anything". Still, I don't trust her; if I were to let her into the depths of my mind, she would go and gossip to the office ladies. I hate the office ladies they're always so judgmental. If I did tell Mrs. Young they'll probably just talk about how her patient should be locked up in an insane asylum. Maybe I am going crazy. Or maybe, just maybe, I might be judging Dr. Young too harshly, and I'm just paranoid. But as a sigh broke my thoughts, my eyes focused back on Dr. Young as she leaned back into her chair and raised a perfectly plucked eyebrow. "So are you gonna talk today, or are you still 'fine'?" As she spoke I came up to a conclusion, paranoid or not, Doctor Emily Young is a pain in my ass.
"Are you insinuating that I'm not just fine? Because if you are I'd hate to disappoint you, since I am, what I have been saying for almost a year now, just fine".
Her honey like eyes pierced my blue ones. "I'm not disappointed, I simply want you to know that it's okay that you need help. It's understandable considering what you've been through."
Liar. I can see the disappointment written all over her face. How her eyebrow lowers, the corner of her lips sag and her eyes dull. "Well, what do you want to hear? Tell me, and I'll tell you what you want to hear."
Anyone with eyes could see her frustration as she replies, "The truth. I need to know the truth so I can help you".
I don't know what it is that makes me differ from my usual response. Perhaps it's because it's the anniversary of the day my life turned to shit. Nevertheless, I say what's been bouncing around in my skull for awhile now.
"You want to know how I feel? How fucked up I am? How when my brother died, a part of me died with him? That when my father figure got charged for rape, I broke? And how when my mother killed herself, I was demolished?
How I feel doesn't matter. I had to be strong for my sister, who not only had to go through the same thing as me, but was also stuck with the burden of taking care of me as well. So yeah, I swept my shattered pieces under a rug and put up a front. I acted like I was fine, like what little I had left of me wasn't slowly dying inside. That sorrow wasn't consuming me with every breath I took, until I became numb. I had to. You can't save me, no one but myself can."
     You could see the shock on her her face due to my words. It was quiet for a bit while she composed herself. Mouth opening and closing as she tried to come up with a reply for me.
    I scoffed, she really was a lousy therapist. She's had basically a whole year to come up with a response to anything I might say, yet here she is looking like a fish gasping for air. If she thinks that's shocking then I now know for a fact that I can't rely on her. I barely even scratched the suffice to my messed up self; the only way to put my shattered pieces back together was going to be by myself.
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So this is my first time writing a story so I'm open to any constructive criticism you guys have. I hope you guys enjoyed it :)
-Much Love, Lola