Sniper

Chapter 10

TW: heavy psychological theme early in the chapter.
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"Morning Tomas, breakfast time!" One of the overly peppy nurses chirped as she brought me over a tray of disgusting hospital food.

"I'm not hungry." I stated simply

"Me and you both know that you need this, you're severely malnourished," I gave no response, "Did you sleep last night?" She asked slightly more somber.

"Clearly not."

"Did you try to sleep or did you just make yourself sit up all night?" A slight attitude nipped her words.

"Oh yeah Janice, I totally choose to exhaust myself for no reason. I thought you were a nurse, you should know what insomnia is." I snap; her face contorts.

"Try and eat." She states simply and sets the tray of food on my table and left.

I lay back again and continued staring out the window. Thoughts raced through my mind and a mild anxiety cradled my body. The events of a couple night ago played over and over in my head, why had I trusted him so fast? Did I trust him easier because I was out of it or did I need to re-evaluate myself. I thought I had trust issues but I did a stupid thing like that. I kicked myself for being such an idiot. But then there was Tord. I trusted him far too easily; scarily easily too, yet I still trust him. He hadn't done anything to throw me off, even when I have been sceptical it's always been for stupid reasons. But again I didn't really know him as well as I thought I did. He clearly wasn't telling me everything; he made that pretty obvious the week before. I wanted to know more, I wanted to know everything, even stupid shit that would never even matter like his favourite dinosaur or  childhood nickname! My face flushed at the thought of Tord, I missed him but I had to wait for visiting hours before I could see him again. I curled up into a tight ball, pressing my face hard into my knees.

"I want to see him."
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"So, Tom. I think you're well aware of the reason we're speaking,"

I was sat in a small room with a therapist. I was actually living the scenario I'd always dreaded.

"Naturally. Can we get these questions over with quick? I've got places to be, hospital beds to lay in." I crossed my arms childishly, rolling my eyes.

"Ehem well, it's clear you're not comfortable with this situation, why is that? Is there a reason?" The slightly balding man asked

"Because therapy is stupid. It doesn't help. How does saying this shit out loud actually help change anything about me?"

"Have you ever been through a session before or is that just what you believe?" He follows up my statement

"When I was in highschool," his eyebrows raised and he scribbled down notes in his notepad, "was that interesting I take it?"

"Okay I'm assuming it was just some school counsellor who you spoke to?" I tried to answer him but he cut me off before I could get a word in which way, "well forget whatever they said, school counsellors don't know shit. We can actually help you here. I'm gonna try my best to keep you out of the institution because I don't think that'll help you, but you've got to work with me, okay Tom?"

I was taken back a bit by the man, but I liked his attitude, "okay fine, what do you want to know?"

"Well I want to know what's going on in there," he gestures to my head with his pen, "something in there is making life really hard for you, so we gotta get it outta there, but first I need to know what going on. Just vent your thoughts, doesn't matter how little you think it matters, say it because it might make a big difference."