Team Single (Mavi)

Part 57

-Avi's Point of View-

"Hello, Doctor."

"Hello, Avriel. How are you doing today?"

I took a deep breath and looked around the lightly decorated room. The room somehow had managed to feel completely safe and still carry this air of creepy to it. I adjusted on the couch a bit and leaned back, feeling comfortable in the large plush cushions.

"I'm okay. I could be better."

"Alright, do you want to talk about that? You don't have to if you don't want to."

I watched him pull his fingers through his salt and pepper hair and adjust his thick framed glasses with his pen in his hand, ready to write down the important details on my internal thoughts.

"Well... My ex-girlfriend is ruining my relationship."

"How so?"

"She's haunting me. She's in my dreams. She's in every mirror I look in. She's in my reflection in Mitch's eyes. I just want her gone so I can live my life." I took to looking around the room again. I hoped something with the doctor's name on it was somewhere in the mess of support items dispersed around the room. My eyes found the large nametag tucked under the arm of a ragdoll. It read the name Jones in a large thin font and it had two small bolts on each end of the name, keeping the nametag in place.

"Mr. Kaplan?"

"Huh? What?"

He furrowed his eyes at me a little. "I asked what she did to you in these dreams."

"Oh. Sorry." I pushed my hair back with my hand; Jones had a no hat policy. "In my old nightmares, she would just yell at me, cry, and storm out, but in the more recent ones..." I hugged myself, slightly pinching some fat on my arm to keep from crying from the thoughts of her evilly cackling as she drove through town and the sheer joy in her face when she'd look deep into my eyes and let go of the steering wheel, crashing into whatever car got in the way. The vehement jerks of her body and that same pop every time. Me walking away with nothing more than a scratch while she almost always broke something. I could almost hear her yelling that it was my fault with a razor in her hand. She didn't use it, but she'd always leave it out in the open and yell at me when it was clean.

"I want you to hurt like I hurt," she'd yell. She'd yell at me until... until she cried. Were my dreams just recounts of what happened after accidents?

"Mr. Kaplan?"

"What? I'm sorry! I did it again, didn't I?"

"No, you're crying. Do you not..."

I sighed and wiped my face of the tears I hadn't realized I was crying.

"Guess it's really bad, huh?"