The 'First' Girlfriend

Before: 2

I've noticed that a lot more people have been reading, voting and commenting on this story and I felt bad.... SO.... (DOUBLE UPDATE!) 

Before: 2 

Jasper

I skipped therapy... again.

By the time Dylan closed the door, I was already walking toward the windows. I didn't even wait for the Doc. Without giving it much thought, I pulled the window up and scanned my surroundings. The slight paranoia hasn't left yet, but I'm tried ignoring it. Taking a deep breath, I jumped and closed the small distance between the window and freedom. Despite the weather, I put my hood on and start to walk. Since this wasn't the first time I've ditched a meeting, I knew my procedure as I walked to the cemetery. Look down, walk fast and stay clear of the cameras. I don't bring attention to myself and I let my feet guide me. I could do this blindfolded.

I push past strangers and blurred faces, past those who don't have to worry about someone trying to kill them daily.

Lucky them.

Ten minutes later, I'm walking through the familiar path. The bottle of tequila in my hand felt heavy, like my head the past few months.

William Anderson's grave was just like I had left it. Untouched. No trace that anyone has been here, let alone that it was me.

Taking my hoodie off, I place it on the ground and sat on it. On instinct, I scan the cemetery for anything suspicious, but there is no one on sight.

Good.

I glance at my watch and set a timer. I have exactly an hour until this session was over. Opening the bottle, I lean against the stone and sigh.

Now, this, I thought. This is therapy.

For the last month, this was how I spent my time. Drinking and talking to the only person I knew who would've made this all better. Who would've made me better. All it took was a promise that any interview I get my therapist would get the highest recommendations.

The old bastard only cared about how much money he makes off people's misery.

He gets paid and I get to forget for two hours, it was a win win. Today though, I don't start my lesson with the nightmares, or guilt or numbing feeling I feel everyday. I make this too much about me. No, today I start with Melody.

"You would be so proud of her, Will. She's striving in the FBI, more than she would ever be in the Secret Service." I told the air, as I brought the bottle to my lips. "But you know..." I let the cold tequila run down my throat. "I don't see her anymore. And, that isn't her fault, I know that. I'm not mad at her. And I don't want to bother her with my problems."

I drank again.

"But today just made me realize how much I miss her. Who would've thought I'd be so in love with your daughter, huh? You would've killed me," I laugh a dry, humorless laugh. "But what can I do? Tell her to quit? I can't do that, I would never do it." I drink again. "Being an agent runs in her blood just like you. I just wish I could see her more you know?" I sigh and leaned against the grave stone. The cold stone sent chills down my body. I sat there, eyes closed, and listened for the wind. I almost fell asleep, had a voice not woken me up.

"Jasper Trey Cross." The sound of that sweet british accent had me smile. I held the bottle mid drink as Melody came to view. And if her eyes could turn red from anger, they would. But I finished my sip as she narrowed her eyes at me.