Battle Scars [BittyBones]

~8~

People say that life is too short.
But I wish it was shorter.

"Hello, Elle. I'll be taking care of you while you're here. Based on the events that led you to the hospital, I would like to discuss therapy options with you."

After a few moments of awkward silence, the nurse glanced up at Elle, only now noticing her annoyed expression. The nurse's eyebrows furrowed as she clicked the pen in thought, staring at the bland clipboard in her hands.

"Having therapy sessions here would be best. To just get it over with and then relax at home." Elle nodded, not really listening as her thoughts strayed to how angry her parents were going to be when they saw that she was still alive.

"Have you ever considered having a service animal? Based on what your friends told me, you don't do well with crowds or social pressure." She continued to click her pen absently as Elle's chest hurt with anxiety at merely mentioning her crippling disability.

She shook her head at the question, making the nurse hum as she sat down in the chair next to her, making her feel like she was just given a test she didn't study for.

"Well, why don't you consider it right now? The ADA has just passed laws that give Bitties rights to be service animals."

Elle cringed at the word animals, but froze when she heard a familiar excited gasp on the other side of the closed door. She held back a snort as the nurse wrote something down, apparently having not heard.

She heard a man yell something that was followed by panicked screaming as the group ran off. Realizing she hadn't been listening to the nurse, she cleared her throat and pretended to be really into whatever she was saying.

"-and that's only the first set of rights. There is a lot of research for you to do before you can take your Bitty to places like school, theme parks, restaurants, work, and so on. It's very complicated since Bitties already have so many rights, but there are still many places they are not allowed. And-"

Elle tuned her out, her thoughts drifting again as she daydreamed about going to school. But just thinking about it for a few seconds made her anxiety spike worryingly high, so she tried to think about something else.

Unfortunately, it backfired, because she began thinking about the reasons she had attempted suicide in the first place. She tried to wave the thoughts away, but they clung to her like a parasite. The shock of the situation faded, and the crushing fear and helplessness returned.

"And here he is now!"

Snapping back into focus, she looked toward the now open door, noticing a man in his mid-40's smiling down at her.

"Hello, my name is Reggie, and I'll be your therapist for the next few weeks. It's a pleasure to meet you, Elle." He seemed to be the type of person that never stop smiling, making Elle suspicious of how trustworthy he was going to be.

She only nodded, placing her arms instinctively over her stomach in defense. He continued to smile, reminding her of a robot as he walked over and sat down beside her in a chair. The nurse walked out quietly, leaving them alone in the awkward silence.

"How are you?" He asked, making Elle have to resist rolling her eyes, feeling surprisingly agitated. She never liked therapists because they were paid a lot of money to only pretend to care about you.