"Kellin Quinn." The lady called my name. I had been in the waiting room for awhile now. Apparently Dr. Gaskarth's other client was taking longer than expected, which was fine. I still wasn't ready to go in there. I would never be ready.
"Dr. Gaskarth will see you now." She informed me. She opened the door I was supposed to go through and held it for me. I got up from my seat and walked over to her.
"Second door on the left. Knock before you go in." She told me. I nodded and walked down the hallway. The second door on the left had a plaque that read:
Dr. Alexander Gaskarth
I guess this was it. With a shaky hand, I knocked on the door. I was so nervous about this. Seconds later the door swung open, revealing a man who had to be in his late twenties. He had brown hair and eyes that matched. He had a nice smile and he looked good in a suit.
"You must be Kellin, correct?" I nodded and he moved to the side to let me in.
"Please, sit down, or lay, which ever you prefer." He said encouragingly as if I were a child, gesturing over the the couch.
I walked in and sat on the couch. Dr. Gaskarth closed the door and walked closer to me. He sat down in a chair across from the couch and took out a notepad and a pen. He put one leg over the other, probably making himself comfortable. He was acting so casual about this, but the me it was kind of a big deal.
"So, tell me what the problem is." He said, looking at me. I didn't say anything; I didn't know what to say. I was already shitty in social situations, but telling people my feelings made me uncomfortable. After a few more minutes of my being silent, he spoke again.
"Kellin, anything you tell me here is strictly between us. By law, I'm not allowed to tell anyone what we talk about in here, unless I believe you to be a danger to yourself or others." He sounded so calm.
Honestly, that didn't make me feel any better. I didn't care what he told anyone, I just didn't want to tell all of my problems and feeling to someone I knew nothing about.
"Kellin, I can't help if you don't tell me what the problem is." He said.
I sighed.
"I don't know. I don't know what my problem is." I said quietly. He gave me a sympathetic look. And that was one sympathetic look too many today.
I snapped.
"Don't you dare look at me like that!" I yelled. His eyes got big; he was genuinely surprised at my outburst, and honestly, I was too. I was breathing really heavily.
"Kellin, calm down. You're okay. How was I looking at you?" His tone was soft and soothing. But I wasn't falling into his trap.
"Cut the shit. Don't look at me like I'm an injured baby and don't talk to me like I'll brake if you say the wrong thing. Just stop." I was pretty satisfied with myself, considering that's the first time I've ever stood up for myself.
"Alright, got it." He said in a normal tone. Okay, I guess that was progress.
"Why don't you tell me what's bothering you?" He asked.
"Why? Because I don't want to." I stated quietly.
"Kellin, you might want to take this seriously." He told me. My mother's words rang in my head and I decided I probably should take it seriously unless I wanted to live on the streets.
"You look tired." He commented. I probably did look tired. I had only gotten a few hours of sleep the night before. My insomnia has been terrible lately, worse than usual.
"Probably because I didn't really sleep last night." I told him honestly. He wrote something down in his little yellow notepad.
"Mhm, and why is that?" He asked, looking up from his notes. I sighed.
"Because, I suffer from insomnia. I rarely sleep. I can be extremely tired, but my mind wont let me sleep." I explained. He nodded and wrote some more.
"And why haven't you talked to a doctor about this? Maybe get some sleeping pills to help you?" He asked. I didn't exactly know the answer to this question.
"I don't know. I guess I was scared." I mumbled.
"Scared of what?" He pushed. I rolled my eyes, just wanting him to drop it.
"Okay, well I'll get you on some sleeping medication. It should help. Any other problems I should know about?" He asked. I glanced up at the clock. Sessions were normally fourty-five minutes long. It had been fifteen. Great.
"What's that?" He asked gesturing toward my cheek.
"What do you mean?" I asked. I really didn't know what he was talking about.
He wheeled his chair over to a desk and grabbed a little mirror. He held it out to me and I took it.
There was a red scratch on my lower cheek. It must have happened when Ronnie pushed me. I guess I was too focused on getting my things than if he had hurt me or not.
"Are you getting abused at home?" He asked abruptly. It caught me off guard.
"No! Why would you ask me that?" He shrugged.
"It's my job. You can tell me, Kellin. You don't have to be scared."
"I don't get abused. This is from something different." I mumbled and looked away.
"What? What's it from?" I rolled my eyes and kept my mouth shut.
"Kellin. What is the scratch from?" He asked again, more stern this time.
"I got pushed at school. It's not a big deal."
"You get bullied?" He seemed so intrigued by me. I didn't like it.
"Yes, for being gay." I didn't expect that to come out.
"Mhm, and how do you deal with the bullying?" He said, completely ignoring my latter statement.
"I don't know. I just ignore it, I guess." He gave me a disapproving look.
"Have you ever thought of telling an adult?" He asked.
"That would do nothing." I said, looking away from his gaze.
"Alright. Do you or have you ever self harmed?" He asked. What did this have to do with anything?
"That's not even relevant." I told him.
"It is though. Self harm is a coping mechanism to some, they use it as an escape." He said. I glanced at the clock. Twenty-five more minutes.
"Looking at the clock continuously isn't going to make the session end any faster, Mr. Quinn." He told me.
"Back to the question. Have you ever self harmed?" I sighed.
"Nope." I lied. He gave me a suspicious look.
"I don't believe you." He said bluntly.
"I don't care if you believe me or not. It's the truth. And I think it's highly unprofessional for you to tell me that." I commented. It was true. Therapists were supposed to help and understand, and this one accuses you of lying.
I mean, it was a lie, but he didn't know that for sure.
"Would you mind showing me your arm?" He asked.
Okay, that was crossing the line.
"Yes, I mind a lot." I said, getting up. I walked toward the door.
"Kellin, the session isn't over yet--"
"I don't care, it is now." I said, slamming the door behind me.
Well, that went about how I thought it would; Terribly.
