latch :: calum hood (rewriting)

xiv.

Calum (yes this is in his pov for once)

I tossed a stupid orange handball, up to the ceiling, and down to my palm repeatedly. Once again, I was stuck in my room, since my only way of getting from one place to another is that stupid wheelchair.

Screw that wheelchair. For fuck's sake, I can't even go downstairs for a stupid banana without it being a hassle.

I was supposed to go out today, you know, get some fresh air in these damaged lungs, and the suns beaming rays on my skin, so desperately missing it's tan, but that would involve me going to therapy.

Not physical where they're a super nice to me and give me a whole batch of homemade chocolate chip cookies, actually therapy. The one where I have to sit in a chair - in this case my wheelchair ( I need to name it ) , and talk about the accident and how I feel about it and blah blah blah.

Our car swerved off the road, flipped over, we almost died but we all lived, gasp, living miracles. All the details were already in several news articles, I'm pretty sure the therapist knows that occurred, play by play, so what's the point?

But I know that the rest have gone and they said it was good and it could help. I don't need help.

I heard knocks on my door, but it helped nonetheless because I couldn't get up and see who it was.

"It's open!" I shouted. My room door is never opened, always locked, especially when I had a thing with Scarlet and we needed , um, privacy.

My mothers glowing smile is the first thing I noticed, as she held out a plate with cookies and milk. (Why do people drink warm milk it's gross?)

Behind her trailed a ravish looking man, wearing a soft green dress shirt and a hideous tie. He held a notepad and pan, and I already knew who this was.

"Mom, cheating on dad with a younger man, he'd be upset." I joked bitterly, continuing to throw the ball in the air. I could feel my mom roll her eyes at me as she placed the milk and cookies on my bed post.

"My son has a very unique sense of humour." She told the man, which he noted.

"Calum this is your therapist. Mr-"

"You can just call me Tobias." he says, cutting of her.

"Tobias, such a lovely name." my mom complimented. "I'll leave you two alone." She smiled. I opened my mouth to say something, possibly scowl her for bringing the therapist here, because on several occasions over the past few days, I have told her that I don't need one.

I shifted my body up, my body laying on my pillow as I stared at Tobias. He smacked his lips at the awkward silence as he sat on my computer chair and pulled it to the edge of my bed.

"How are you today Calum?" he asked me, starting the session. I grabbed a cookie from the plate and stuffed it in my face.

"Great, never been better." I said, with my mouth full, discarding any manners I had out my memory.

"So what do you begin to talk about? School? The accident? Maybe any girl problems?" He placed his legs up on the edge of my bed and flipped to a new page of his yellow notepad.

"I'm passing all my classes. I survived by the way. And her and I aren't together anymore." I answered all of his questions quickly, after gulping down half my glass of milk. He hummed a bit to himself, taking more notes down about me.

"Who is this girl you're referring to?" he questioned, tapping the pen on his chin. I sighed, beginning to throw the ball up again.

"Do you really need to know?" My eyebrows raised at him. He was going to be here for a whole hour and a half and I could honestly think of a whole list of better things to do than to talk to him.