Rebecca

My shrink looks at me with an unreadable expression on her face. Her wide-framed glasses resting on top of her crooked nose. I can't look into her eyes, so I look at the bolla on top of her head instead. My hands start to feel clammy and I wipe them on my dress.

"So how are you feeling this week?", she asks and I tear my eyes away from her hair, only for them to rest upon her glasses.

"Just fine.", I reply.

She sighs, and my breath catches. I look up and I'm captured once again by her questioning stare. My phone dings two times, which means I only have to be here for another twenty minutes.

"I thought we agreed, no phones?", she asks and my cheeks turn red.

"I forgot.", I say and my hands start shaking. I clasp my hands in between my thighs and fix my posture.

"Tell me Rebecca...You've had psychiatrists since your fist panic attack when you were nine. Do you think they helped at all?"

I quiver and turn my head from side to side.

"Then I can't do anything to help you, but let you go." She releases me from her questioning stare and gives me a thin-lipped smile.

"Thank you." I reply, relieved. Of all the shrinks I've had, this woman was the worst.

Rebecca is a 17 year old South African girl, who is tortured by memories of her father and and her past.
Will Quintin Hale be the one to pick up the pieces of her broken heart, or will he leave her more shattered than she was before?