Before you read, if you haven't read chapter 6.0, please go back to read it. This not the first part of chapter 6. Oh and this chap is unedited.
That being said, have fun;)
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Please, let him stop crying. She begged in her mind. She had gotten to a point in her life where tears made her uncomfortable.
As she patiently waited for him to quieten and gather himself, she spared a glance at the baby pink, leather watch strapped around her thick wrist. 10:20pm.
That wasn't too bad, though she reckoned that Ẹ̀wá, her best friend would have been blowing up her phone with calls by then.
Normally, Anjola should have been back home by then and recounting the details of the date to her.
Well, she thought. That day was in no way a normal day.
He sniffed one more time and stopped his sobs. He didn't look at her, and instead stared straight ahead, continuing to talk.
"I was indifferent about her suggestion but I let her have her way. She had concluded that if I couldn't talk to her about my pain then I'd be able to talk to a professional.
"She went with me for the first session and I didn't have the heart to tell her that I hated it. The therapist was a little know-it-all and I didn't gel with that.
"Subsequent times, I lied to her about going to the sessions. I always went for walks instead. I carried on the ruse for over six months before she found out.
"When she did, she was so disappointed. Her expression that day killed me. I felt reprimanded thoroughly, like a little child. I also felt ashamed, inadequate. I hated that feeling so so much; I still do.
"So I went into defence mode, to shield myself. To cut the long story short, we hurt each other that day.
"After walking on eggshells for a while, she started leaving hints like avidly following mental health awareness campaigns, reading publications on mental health and the likes.
"She did all this to build momentum for the next time she would bring it up. By the middle of the following year, she was ready to make her case, by using a different tactic.
"She told me that I didn't have to have recurring sessions with a therapist. Apparently, I just needed to visit a psychiatrist occasionally.
"She said that I'd like this one since the psychiatrist was a nice guy she knew from one of her mutual friends.
"I wasn't comfortable with the idea. I felt like she was ashamed of me, the way she was pushing me towards psychiatrists and therapists, like I was a broken toy that she wanted to fix.
"But more than my discomfort, I wanted to please her so I swallowed my complaints. That was where the psychiatrist, Dr Tunde prescribed me some antidepressants.
"I was supposed to take them till they finished, and then come back for a routine visit for progress assessment.
"I started out taking the pills. But I stopped after a while because they didn't take away the pain. They made me freakishly happy and that wasn't really me, just a mask.
"The pills didn't take away my demons, and even though I was smiling, they were still dealing with me on the inside. So I didn't see the point in taking them.
"I was able to get away with lying for a long time. I won't go into the details of the how but the bottom line is that I did.
"Till the year after that, roughly about eight months later when she finally found out." The grave tone with which he spoke prepared her for the worst. She held her breath as he continued to speak.
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The Bridge|| Completed✓
General Fiction"Can I help you ma?" He asked. His voice was scratchy and low and his tone rang out as sarcastic. "What do you mean by 'Can I help you ma?'" she asked him in incredulity. "I said what I said. Now what exactly is your problem?" He asked, obviously no...
