The Locker Diary

Chapter 8 - Therapy Session

AUTHOR'S NOTE:

Hello! I hope all of you had a great NEW YEAR'S DAY! 2015. 

Time goes by so quickly. 

I hope you all are enjoying my book. I hope you please stick with it, I promise I'm really trying. Now that I'm trying I'm actually seeing how difficult it is to write a book, even more to complete it. There are people on wattpad that create amazing books and I honestly don't know how I can compete with that by I'm going to try. Just please comment if you enjoyed, it would really help and give me motivation to complete this story. Also, don't hesitate on giving me feedback if want to msg me giving me advice, some pointers, that would be awesome!! It would really help me. 

This chapter might be a little confusing...so please hang in there. It has to do with Emiliy's diary. 

Thank you so much!! :)  ENJOY! 

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Emily POV

         Lately I’ve been writing in my diary, since I’m anti-social and everything about this town and everyone pretty much sucks!

        Don’t you dare laugh at me for being cheesy and keeping a diary. It was never my choice. When I moved in with my foster parents, they forced me into therapy with Dr. Laney and my homework is writing in a diary.

        I’ve gotten used it and I hate admitting it but it actually feels relaxing, being able to spill everything out on a blank sheet of paper. Words that were said, words you wanted to say, words you regretted, and memories you wish to never forget.

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Flashback:

A young girl, surrounded by misfortune and tragic events, daughter of an alcoholic, verbally abusive mother, gets separated by her beloved father, and then loses him completely in a terrible snowstorm accident. Life could not get any worse, but social workers threaten her dejected life, and take her away from New York City, the city she was born and raised, and relocate her to a small-town filled with strangers, and a sense of emptiness and loneliness strikes her heart.

I guess that is what has been floating through the genius minds of Dr. Christine Hemmingway and Chief Luther Hemmingway (a.k.a my foster parents) these past few days, which led them to believe I needed therapy.

When people first sense something is wrong with you, in any way, their first thought is, “you need therapy”.  Only crazy, demented people go to therapy. And they always tell you, “People who go to therapy aren’t crazy”. But of course who is going to tell a crazy person they need help because they’re crazy, who knows what that crazy person will do to you. Never confront a crazy person, and of course they’re not going to call it “Help for the Crazies” right? They’re going to call it “Therapy” or “Counseling” a more sophisticated name? Either way if someone suggests you need therapy or counseling, what they’re really saying is “you are a lunatic and need to be reviewed by a professional therapist, so that the people of this fine city will sleep well tonight, knowing there are no crazies roaming…And God bless America!”  

        I’m currently sitting in the waiting room, which is such a delight for me (being the impatient person that I am).

        When I stepped foot inside this building, the atmosphere was so uncomfortable, the air suffocated me.