Michaelishious - Vol. 2020

Dec. 16th: Therapy (Pt. 1)

*SCREEEEAM*

"Christ! What the hell is wrong with you? It's just a tiny spider."

"Tiny?! It's the size of my hand!"

My heart rate was thundering like the hooves of twelve wild horses, and my eyes were wide open to make sure it didn't suddenly jump on me. Because spiders do jump! No matter what people say, I know they do. And then they cover you with that horrible cobweb that glues itself to your body, never to be removed again.

I hated spiders. No, I despised them! With passion!

"It's not. And see? It's harmless."

Katana managed to get the monster to crawl over to her hand, allegedly to let it out in the free. She freaking held it! In her hand!

"You're insane! Get it out! Kill it!"

"Calm down, Gina. Look at it. It's actually quite pretty."

"As pretty as a month old cow corpse. Get it out!"

"Alright, alright. I'm going. But it really is harmless."

"Not if I light the house on fire to get rid of it, it's not!"

Katana rolled her eyes.

"You're always so dramatic," she huffed.

"There's no reason to be undramatic about it, so shut up."

I rubbed my sweaty palms on my jeans and felt the decreasing anxiety make my body shiver a little less. Then I frowned when Katana came back with the most devious look on her face.

"What?" I asked, slightly nervous.

"You, my dear friend, are going to therapy. I'm gonna get you an appointment tomorrow no matter what you say."

"Therapy?" I snorted.
"I don't need any therapy. If anything, it's those ugly spiders that need therapy for terrorizing me."

"You are definitely in need of therapy for your arachnophobia."

"It has a name?"

"Yeah. Arachnophobia, commonly called Gina."

"Haha. Funny," I grumbled and tried to find something to do to distract myself.

Therapy? In your dreams.

🤶🤶🤶🤶🤶

But I ended up going anyway. Not that I had any choice, because Katana literally handcuffed me to her wrist so I couldn't get away. And she didn't let me go until I stepped into the sterile office, belonging to a man in surprisingly ordinary clothes. No white coats. No large, weird-looking glasses or crazy steel wool hair. Not even a journal or notepad. Only a man and his recorder. And holy macaroni, what a handsome man!

He had a perfectly chiseled, squared jaw with a chin cleft that already made me weak in the knees. Dark hair in soft curls that were partially gathered in a low ponytail, leaving some stray curls to dance on his forehead, were distracting to say at least. And his eyes... I had never seen eyes that soulful and loving. Dark lashes and eyebrows shaped from heaven above, and right now those gorgeous brown eyes looked straight at me with curiosity.

"Hi," I said awkwardly and waved my hand in a lame, low salute.
"So... You're my therapist, huh?"

He looked amused and came closer with his hands behind his back, as if he was observing me like an object rather than a person. He didn't intimidate me, though.

It was clear to see how broad his shoulders were by the way he was standing, and his red shirt was tucked neatly into his black slacks, emphasizing exactly how slim his waist was. Then he reached out his hand.