The Problem is Me [EDITED)

Chapter 6

October, 2014

"Are we going to talk about what happened back there?" My therapist, Giles asked me. He was middle aged with a scruffy beard and greying hair, the kind of person who looks like they spend their Friday night drinking neat whiskey at the bar alone.

"I punched a mirror. Common sense tells you that does it not?" I shrugged and stared out of the window, the trees were dripping and the cement had turned a dark grey colour. He was asking about last night, for the record I got three stiches in my hand.

I've never been able to really get a good grasp on the whole concept of therapy, it all seems relatively pointless. Mind you, I think most things are pointless.

Except mozzarella sticks, they're not pointless.

"Let's drop the sarcastic hard shell you're putting over yourself, shall we? How can you expect me to help you if you're pretending to be someone you're not?" Giles sighed running a hand through his dark hair.

"I don't need help. And what do you mean 'pretending to be someone I'm not?' the person you're talking to is me, Nathan McKenzie." I answered and heard Giles sigh heavily, throwing his pen onto the desk in a small fit of rage. It was obvious I was testing this dude's patience.

Good.

"You don't need help? I can't even remember how many kids have said that to me and ended up killing themselves." He humourlessly laughed "But you know what, Nathan? You do need help; I think you need help more than you can recognize yourself. Putting up this whole funny, nice guy mask may have everyone else fooled, but not me." His voice held a sharp tone to it which made me shudder.

"Whatever you say doc," I countered completely deadpan.

"Look, kid. Let's start from the basics and work our way up shall we? This is a question you're probably not going to want to answer, but what happened at your father's funeral? Why did you laugh?" Giles asked and I smirked.

"I was just really happy to be there!" I lied, mustering up the best fake laugh I could. Giles narrowed his brown eyes and wrote something down on his notepad. "What are you writing?" I asked, moving closer to see.

"That's confidential I'm afraid. Now, why did you laugh at your father's funeral?" He asks again, a little more abrupt this time.

"If my memory is still intact, I just answered that question."

"Answer it again." Giles prompted, he really was proving to be a tough cookie to beat.

"Why?"

"Because I know you're lying."

"I'm not lying, buddy." I sighed, sitting up in my seat this time.

"Yes you are. Why did you laugh?" He repeated his tone surprisingly calm but I could tell he left no room for an argument.

"Becau-" I started but paused when I made contact with his inquisitive eyes. His eyes were so brown it was actually rather frightening. Now granted, my eyes make me look like a serial killer but he just looked like the antichrist or something.

"Because what? Tell me Nathan, why did you laugh?" His voice rose slightly and I found myself cowering from it slightly.

"Hypothetically, if someone tortured you and then they died, you'd be pretty happy would you not?" I asked questionably.

"Your father tortured you?" He asked.

I rolled my eyes, "Of course he didn't."

"Nathan, I know there is a strong history of child abuse on your record. Let's talk about that." He leaned forward.

"Let's not."

He sighed heavily and massaged his temples. "You-" He pointed his finger at me "Are the most infuriating teenager I have ever encountered."

I winked at him, and started to pick at the bandages absentmindedly.

"What used to happen?" He asked.

I narrowed my eyes, "You've read the case, so you already know what happened."

"I want to know it from your point of view. That matters too, believe it or not." He questioned, and I rubbed my temples tiredly.

I hesitated for a second, before letting my mind enter the memories I kept locked away. Never thinking about them, pretending they didn't exist.

"Started out with just words, you know? Then came the pushing, then the punching, the burning, the choking." I explained, lost in my own thoughts. "Worst part was my mom. She'd watch him do it, egg him on sometimes too. Then tell me it was my fault after."

He looked at me silently, sympathy in his eyes. "I'm sorry that happened to you, Nathan. It must have been hard. Do you think about those times very often?" He asked.

Before I could reply, he checked his watch and frowned. "Looks like times up for today. Are you sure you're going to be okay? Is there anything I should know before I set you on your way?"

"I'll be fine, and nope." I replied, popping the 'p'.

It was time for dinner after I got out of therapy, so I went down to the cafeteria to get me a well-deserved meal. It has gotten to the point where the barely cooked meals actually sound like something Gordon Ramsay himself would be proud of.

Sitting with the two younger boys, and Evan had become a routine for me now.

"Where have you been?" Evan asked, chewing on his food obnoxiously.

"I was hosting a tea party with the Queen herself!" I resorted sarcastically, "Take a wild guess, Evan."

Evan held his hands up in surrender and continued to eat his food. I glanced over to Cole and flicked a pea at him.

"Jesus, you look more distraught than that Rose girl from Titanic! What's up with you?" I exclaimed loudly.

Cole sighed, "My brother called in yesterday, apparently I've gotta stay in here for a month longer than I'm supposed to."

I hummed twirling a piece of spaghetti on my fork, "Why?"

"To hell if I know," He added quietly.

"Ah, well think on the brightside, you get to see my sexy face for a month longer!" I grinned from ear to ear.

Everyone rolled their eyes in sync. "Could you get anymore arrogant?" Evan laughed.

"Probably not." I shrugged.