Just Us

One

Chapter one
Isla

"Breathe," I whisper the word like it was my own personal mantra yet, I can't seem to catch a full breath. My body sinks into the couch as I wait for my name to be called. The nervousness that coiled in my gut ebbs away and it's replaced with sheer anxiety.

Its grip on me is harder and I don't like how it's making my mind foggy and chest tight. It didn't help that my brain was coming up with every possible way today's session could go wrong.

Now, I sit still, fingers picking at each other as I'm rehearsing the simplest thing, like introducing myself. First impressions were important. At least that's what my mother said. Apparently, it's supposed to determine how my future sessions would go. If I messed this up like I did the first one, I know I'd be deemed a lost cause in her eyes.

My parents had given me the option of going alone or with them for today's session unlike the first time where they had left me no choice and they had spent that entire session forcing me to open up.

"The sooner you talk about this, the sooner you'll get better." My mum had pushed. Like it was that simple. I tried to speak anyway because a part of me felt like I owed it to them after having put them through hell and all. But something in me snapped as I spoke. Recounting everything that happened had stilled a part of me and then I stopped speaking. All together. For at least a week.

That was my mother's definition of messing up my first session. If it didn't work, then it had to be because I didn't say the right things. I knew she just wanted me to be better and fast but her way of dealing with it just pushed me down the hole further.

I hear a cough that grabs my attention. It sounded fake and intentionally. Prying my eyes off of my fingers, I catch someone's gaze. It looks like they had caught on to my frantic state.

"Hey," he's speaking low.

Has he been staring the entire time?

"Hi," it comes out muffled, like I'm speaking through a glass window. My eyes meet his piercing blue ones but only briefly and then I'm staring at my shoelaces.

It was white once but now they're close to grey. I'm not sure when that happened, did it just fade over time? Or was it after falling into that puddle as I tried running away—my heart's beating against my chest now.

It's time I throw these shoes out.

"Dr. Pimento?" The blonde asks before I could fall over the edge of my mind and into a dark hole of recounting every single detail. An eyebrow arches with his question.

"Yeah," I look at the male who was attempting to start a conversation. I tuck my hands under my thighs to prevent them from clawing at each other. "It's my first time." I feel obligated to say since he's looking at me like he's afraid I might throw up. In his defence, I did think I was about to.

"He's not that bad." He shakes his head with a subtle smile. "He's patient. That's important. He's been helping me with my bipolar disorder and so far, he's all right. What're you here for?" He asks nonchalantly and that gets me to pause.

"Uh—"

"It's okay if you don't want to talk about it." He says the moment he sees me shift uncomfortably. "I'm just tired of the narrative that mental health has to be a hushed topic. We're never embarrassed about a broken arm or a sprained ankle. Why is it that when it's something that can't be seen, everyone's so scared about it?" The words flow out of him rapidly and it's like he's questioning himself.