Lockjaw (Joshler)

2. Thirteen

Start the song. It's Once a Lover by Sammy Brue.

Budget cuts always felt like they did more harm than good in Tyler's opinion, but maybe that was just because he worked in the mental health field where they were frequent and unavoidable. Three psychologists in his office had been laid off, leaving him with a longer client list than he was really equipped to deal with. It stressed him out to no end, but he'd be damned if he was going to let any of his clients slip through the cracks just because he was under more pressure than usual.

That was why it was a little frustrating that the thirteen-year-old girl sitting on the couch across from him was ignoring him to draw in her sketchbook on her first meeting with him. Every time he asked her a question, she gave him an uninterested and vague response that did very little to help him understand why she was here and what she needed from him.

"Your name is Abigail?" He asked as kindly and patiently as he could manage after twenty minutes of complete silence in an hour long session that felt like a week.

"Abbie," she replied simply.

Abigail Dun had been assigned to him about a week ago, and she hadn't even shown up to what was supposed to be her first session last week. Her mom had called and apologized profusely, stating that she'd bribed her brother, Jordan, to let her stay home instead of driving her over. Her mom had been in the waiting room with her today.

"I'm guessing you're here because your parents want you to be here, and not because you want to be," Tyler observed, setting the clipboard he usually took notes on down on his desk. He probably wouldn't get to use it with her today.

"Yep," she replied disinterestedly.

"What are you drawing?" He asked curiously.

She glanced up at him. "Nothing." Her eyes went back down to her paper.

That was kind of progress. She's never looked at him for more than two seconds at a time before. Art was a good topic then.

"Do you just sketch or do you use colour too?" He pressed.

"Both. My mom grounded me from my coloured pencils though," she replied without looking up this time. "She doesn't know what else to ground me from, so she takes away art supplies."

That was more than a one word response. Perfect. Tyler stood up and went over to his cabinet, opening it and pulling out a tub full of coloured pencils. He set them down on the couch next to her before sitting back down.

For the first time, she smiled slightly. "I'm grounded," she told him, meeting his eyes.

Tyler shrugged. "I won't tell her if you don't."

Abbie grinned, digging through the coloured pencil box before pulling out a pink one and setting to work. "Thanks."

"You're welcome," Tyler replied, smiling even though she wasn't looking at him.

Just like that, Abbie started talking. "I send my brother drawings sometimes. He used to send them back, but he hasn't sent me anything since the last time I saw him. That was five years ago. I was eight."

Tyler' s eyebrows raised. "Where's he at now?" He asked.

Abbie shrugged. "Franklin County Correctional Center. He was in the Franklin County Juvenile Detention Center the last time I saw him." Pain flickered across her features for a moment and her pencil froze. She met Tyler's eyes shyly. "Is it weird that I feel like he's dead even though I send him letters and stuff? My mom talks to him sometimes, but I don't even know anything about him anymore. It's weird, like I only have Jordan and Ashley now."