Esme Potts had suffered from PTSD and severe anxiety for as long as she can remember, the trauma of her childhood having haunted her each and every day as she aged. Years have gone by and not a single sign of her improving has shown. She thought her...
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THE big sweater adoring her small frame was enough to keep the awaiting goosebumps from erupting on her skin, the temperature of her room almost close to freezing. Despite the amount of times JARVIS has asked her in she wanted the temperature to go up, she had declined every time. She could deal with the cold if it meant she got to feel like she was outside in a sense. As if she was outside in the cold winter air with the snow falling against the city in the most mesmerizing way.
She longed to feel the snow between her fingertips. To let the small flake melt against her palm. She just wanted to be outside again, but she knew along with everyone else that she wasn't ready. Not yet, anyways. So as consubstantial mechanism, she decided that simply feeling like she was outside would help her feel less detached.
"Esme?"
She was pulled out of her trance, as her eyes were fixated on the huge windowsill casting the snow filled city before her. Esme let her eyes settle on the woman lounging in the chair across from her, eyeing Esme questioningly. Esme blushed in the slightest, fingers pushing the glasses back up the bridge of her nose as she was caught daydreaming— completely missing the question Helen asked her.
"I'm sorry, what did you say?" Esme said as she straightened her posture, directing her full attention to Helen.
"I asked if you've been taking the SSRI medication I gave you a few weeks ago."
"Yes." Esme said halfheartedly.
"On the regular?"
Esme didn't respond this time and averted her eyes to look down at her fingernails, picking at the cuticles around her nails. Helen let out a small sigh, and Esme watched from her peripheral as she ran a hand through her black hair in aggravation.
"The medicine won't take effect unless you use it nightly." Helen scolded and Esme glances up at the young woman to see her already glaring at her.
"Well maybe I would take it regularly if it didn't make my PTSD worse." Esme shot back, eyes not completely meeting Helens own ones suddenly. "I think a placebo would work better than the SSRI medication if I'm being honest."
Esme watched as Helen stood up and slowly walked towards the windowsill, heels hitting the hardware floor almost melodically. She kept her eyes on the scene in front of her before she spoke up, interrupting the chilling silence that seemed to take over.
"We have talked about this. We have to meet each other halfway." Helen started, and her voice was suddenly very serious and blatant as her eyes were set upon the city just like Esme's were before. "I can't make you feel better by myself, you have to contribute too. This-" she pointed out towards the cluster of buildings going as high as the clouds, "this is a milestone that you won't meet unless you let me help you."
