Therapy (Jalex)

Session 24

Patient: Alexander William Gaskarth

Notes: no appointment this week

-Dr. Bassam Barakat

-

"Alex, I'll be back before you know it," Jack reassured me, his arms around me. "Winter break is only two weeks."

"I know," I moaned, burying my face in Jack's shirt. "But I can barely spend an hour alone without missing you."

"You know we can't spend every second together, Lexy," Jack cooed, kissing the top of my head. Electric chemistry surged through my body. Even though we were in a serious relationship now, I still got butterflies and stupid bubbly feelings around him. "It's just not healthy."

"Yeah, I know, but I wish we could," I muttered. I looked up to meet Jack's doe eyes. He smiled warmly, and I kissed him tenderly. "I'll miss you so much."

"I'll miss you too, but I've got to go now," Jack said, breaking our contact. "We're leaving for the airport soon, so I gotta go."

"Okay..." I sighed. "I love you, babe."

"I love you more." He pressed his lips against mine and walked out of my house. I proceeded to sit on the floor, watching through the window, counting the steps he took to his dad's car.

23 steps.

I placed my arm over my eyes and laid down, sighing loudly. What would I do for the next two weeks alone? I didn't have any therapy sessions until they got back, since my therapist was Jack's dad.

Footsteps sounded on the tiled floor.

"Alex, what are you doing on the floor?" asked my mother. "I haven't vacuumed in three weeks."

"I dunno," I replied listlessly. "I'm just bored now that Jack's gone and I have no freaking friends."

"Maybe you should go outside and socialize?" she suggested.

I groaned and heaved myself up, walking back upstairs.

"Mom, what is this, the 70s?" I snorted as I walked by her. She harrumphed and I dragged myself up the staircase and into my room. Damn, my legs were actually getting a workout. Was I really that out of shape?

"Alex, your father and I are going out to dinner with Rebecca and Bill," my mother called from downstairs. "Will you be alright?"

"Yeah, Mom, go have fun," I replied, entering my room. It was dark; the shades were drawn and the lights were off. I heard the garage door open and then close a few seconds later.

I proceeded to flop on the bed and gaze up at the ceiling. Jack was gone, and I was alone. Alone in my thoughts.

Being alone in your thoughts is a horrible thing.

Being alone did the worst to my mind.

It made my head spin, and my thoughts raced from topic to topic, each one worse than the one before it. It made me assume the worst about everything, and it tore the stitches of my poorly patched heart. I knew that. But it was a thing I couldn't prevent.

I sighed.

My active mind started to race. Jack, my true love, had left me. I was completely alone now, because no one else loved me. Not Lisa, not my old friends, no one. Had I really let myself spiral downwards into this isolation, dependent on one person. What would did my parents think? What did my sisters think? What did Tom think?

What did Tom think?

"Oh wait, he's dead," I muttered involuntarily. I gulped hard, realizing that I had just said it out loud. I didn't even think about saying it. It just came out, like I had already accepted it. Like I was okay with it, like time had healed my wound.

The insanity that was so well hidden in my brain came out of the crevices. Pointless fear grasped my neck with its icy cold fingers, and my paranoia took over.

"I didn't mean it!" I squeaked to no one, the solitary confinement already spreading fear and panic into the stem of my brain. I was going loopy with anxiety. A part of me wanted to believe that Tom was still here, watching over me, but the other part of me didn't want him here, because then he would've heard it.

"You know I didn't mean it, right?" I started to cry, my nerves being frayed. My breathing became shallow, and beads of sweat formed on my forehead.

An attack, I thought. Calm down. Calm down. Anything.

My hand reached for a bottle of beer I had stashed under my bed. It was warm to the touch. When I pulled it out, dark liquid sloshed inside the green bottle. I furrowed my brow. Beer wasn't supposed to be that dark, was it? My hand wrapped around the cap and twisted. I poured some of the beer into my palm.

Blood.

I screamed and flung the bottle away, the green glass shattering into a million pieces as it hit the wall, red liquid spilling everywhere. My fingers started to shake, and my stomach lurched.

"Stop it, stop it, stop it!" I shrieked, my hands fumbling for anything-anything to stop this. I started to rustle through my drawers, and my hand brushed a plastic bag.

Vertigo.