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Chapter 5 NOW

I gazed at the door, wondering if it had been an hour yet. It damn sure felt like it.

I tilted my head back and groaned, but immediately put it back up after the click of the door. I felt like a dog who's been waiting for their owner to get back from work.

I could see the anxiety in Harry's eyes from all the thank you's, and smiles they had.

Part of me thought Dr. Jamie hates the fact that all of our sessions have just been me wasting her time, and Stuart's money which he still doesn't know about.

But what can you say when all you've been doing is hurting?

"Delilah, I'd like you to meet Harry. Harry, Delilah."

I stood up, smiled and shook his hand as he reached out. His hands were much larger than mine. And soft. I felt small calluses on his fingertips. Maybe he plays the guitar or the ukulele like me?

"Hello Delilah." He spoke my name in his deep and raspy voice which sent gentle shivers down my spine, and butterflies in my tummy.

"Hi." My shaky voice awkwardly mumbled, astounded by his beauty.

That must've been the first time Dr. Jamie has ever heard me speak.

Our hands were still gripped together, shaking as we stared into each other's eyes.

You could get lost in Harry's. Perhaps a green galaxy of mystery.

The same mystery of why he could possibly be in therapy. He was the missing puzzle piece that could take me years to figure out. But I haven't even gotten to see the full puzzle yet. What is there to solve?

"Now, it's not my choice to make, and I don't want to pressure you two into anything.. But, I think it'd be great for you two to get to know each other."

Are we similar in some completely different way?

Had a drunk truck driver killed his parents in a car accident? Did he have grandparents to take care of him? Perhaps an abusive foster dad which tumbled at the sound of any sort of disrespect or a miss understanding.

Misunderstood he was.

Harry and I smiled, and awkwardly chuckled as if to say;

"Yea, no. We'll see."

Finally making my way inside the safe place, I sat down on the comfy couch. The one I'd been wasting all my time on, and not only mine, but Dr Jamie's as well.

"How do I start?" I cautiously mumbled.

"Wherever you'd like." Her calm and chilled voice spoke.

"Okay, um.. Well, my foster dad hits my mum and I. He's always drinking and slurring his words. I can't go back home. I have my suitcase packed under the chair in the waiting room." I tried to speak, as this lump in my throat felt heavier and heavier.

My eyes began to water, and my voice was now shaky.

"P-please." I whimpered.

"I can't go back there."

I was uncontrollably sobbing now, and I could still somehow feel Stuart's rough hands gripping my neck, tighter and tighter and it was hard to breathe. I could still smell the stench of his Jack Daniel's whiskey bottle from his rotten breath. His rotten soul.

Washing away his problems with each sip and he felt lighter and lighter.

Flicking his lighter onto his cigarette, which led to cigarette burns on my hands, which I had now told Dr. Jamie about.