Am I Going Crazy

(8) Jon

❧Jonathan

God. I'm so damn confused.

I hadn't expected Corey to hold me in such a loving manner yesterday. It took me completely off guard. Despite that, I'm sitting here craving for his strong arms to be wrapped around my body again.

What did he want from me though? Sex? Dominance towards someone? Money? I wasn't sure.

If his reason wasn't money, then I would question his devotion towards helping me.

I also doubt he wants me for sex. Because I'm disgusting. When Christina...did things to me, she never looked at me while doing it. So my grotesque appearance would never occur to her.

Another thought popped into my mind then, and I pushed it away. Maybe he actually cares.

Ugh, I've already had this mental argument with myself. Why am I doing it again? Corey shouldn't be on my thoughts this much. I should focus on my classes and mental stability in this fucked up place.

Even if his motives did end up being selfless. It still didn't change the fact that he treated me in such a loving way.

I shook my head. This was ridiculous. Maybe I was reading too much into his gesture.

I sighed and sauntered into class, my anxiety growing more and more apparent the closer I got to my seat.

When I sit down, everyone is glaring at me. I hid my face in my arms.

Everyone is out to get me.

During the entire class, I tried thinking about other things that didn't involve my gorgeous therapist-

Oh my God, I did not just say that. I need to stop this. Just because he was assigned to help me doesn't mean I should get all gay for him.

I sighed. This was gonna be a long day.

~¤~

As each day passed, I found myself anticipating Corey's arrival more and more.

I don't know what made me so excited about being in his presence. Maybe it was the fact that he actually listened, despite all my breakdowns and freak-outs. Or the fact that everytime we saw eachother, he would hug me, and continuously assure me that he'd help me.

I'd like to think that he was happy to see me too, but I highly doubted it.

I'm sick, I'm ill, I'm merely a patient to him.

My heart-rate picked up when I heard the familiar double knock at the door. And relief washed over me when I saw Corey's figure

When Corey's was in sight though, my eyes went wide.

Corey was freshly shaved, and his hair was perfectly slicked back, making the tattoo on his neck more apparent because of it. He was wasn't wearing a button-up today. He was wearing a t-shirt with an unfamiliar band on it. And of course, his tightly fit jeans.

Why? My brain screamed, and I tore my eyes away from him.

"Hi Jonathan." He said softly, and I regarded him, "How's your day been so far?"

"O-okay." I stuttered, and I thought I heard him chuckle.

He kept his distance from me, his posture controlled as he said, "That's good. Normally you say your day has been "complete shit," so I think we're making some progress."

He then gave me the usual questions. Like how many facades I've had this week, and how many anxiety attacks I've had. And surprisingly, I answered positively to most of them.