Heartbeat

Session; The Scare

Song of the chapter-

My love by Sia



Alex-



Fear.

That's what I felt as I sat in the passengers seat of Harrys car on the way to my first therapy session in years. Harry tried to keep the conversation happy and cheerful but it didn't last for long, because when we pulled up to the building I already felt like crying.

But I didn't. Because I decided that I would be brave and do this to make Harry happy.

My limbs were sore due to yesterday's workout as I lifted myself out of the car, making me move slower than normal.

"I didn't bang you that hard yesterday did I?"

And that made me laugh very loudly, and blush very fiercely. He always knows what to say when I'm down, even if I try and hide my upset mood. He took my hand as we walked inside and checked myself in. I wish Harry would be able to come in with me, but I knew that wasn't a possible thing.

I already had a list in my mind of the questions I knew they would ask from past experiences. And I knew that I would just answer with the nods and shakes of my head as much as I possibly could because I didn't want to talk to them, and I didn't think what they do helps. I feel as if they just dig through your brain because they can and because they get paid to do it, but I would never say that to Harry. Because he thinks this will help, and he just wants me to be happy and to be without worries.

I haven't had a panic attack since the night Harry saw my cuts. I know my therapist knows about that because when you make an appointment; which Harry had done for me, you have to tell them the reason for coming in.

And he told them panic attacks. He didn't tell them self harm. And I think it's just because he didn't want to say those words out loud.

When we sit down in the waiting room chairs I fix my eyes on the Christmas tree in the corner of the room. It looked like someone took the least amount of time as they possibly could do to decorate it.

"Should I just wait out here until you're done?" Harry asks me unknowingly from beside me.

My appointment is at 10:00, and I know therapy sessions can vary to an hour or more. So I just shrug my shoulders unknowingly and lean against his shoulder, closing my eyes, trying not to give anything much thought. We stayed quiet until my name was called, and I felt as if I were almost half asleep as I stood up.

Harry gave me a small smile as I walked away, a kind of smile that told me to be brave and to try and be comfortable.

So that's what I did as I sat on that stupid couch with my stupid therapist in her stupid bright white room that I felt hurt my eyes because, everything, and I mean everything, was white. I tried to act brave and comfortable like Harry had told me to do with his smile, instead of wanting to shut down and not say a word.

"When was the last time you had a panic attack?"

My therapists name is Dr Kirkpatrick, and I know this because of the name tag on her white jacket. And I realized I couldn't answer this question with just the nod or shake of my head, and I found myself wishing I would've brought my whiteboard with me. Ive just about forgot about that thing.

"Two days."

I answer as short as I can, with the least words I could manage. I wondered what she wrote down in her file after I said that.

"And in your file here, it says that you would never speak in your sessions with your old therapist. How has that changed?"

And I knew there was no way I was going to tell her it was because of Harry. Because that's for me to know, not her. So I just shrug my shoulders, and I knew it probably made me seem like a brat but I didn't want her to know the reason for me speaking.

Question after question is what happened after that. She tried to give me tips on what to do when you have a panic attack, and I knew that none of those stupid things would work. Because Harry is what works for me.

Holding your breath?

I can hardly breath to begin with while having a panic attack and that's what scares me the most about them, is not being able to breath. So there's no way I will hold my breath.

Because its basically his touch that makes me breath again. And his voice that makes my heart slow down to a calming pace.

"And what about these nightmares that I'm reading about right here?"

Her finger points to a certain line in my file from my old therapists writing. I liked my old therapist much more than this one. Her room was blue, and it had flowers and butterflies painted on her wall. But she was a child therapist after all. So I guess striking white, blinding walls is what grown up patients have to deal with. I know that I am being dramatic, but I don't care.

"Are you still having them?" She probes me again.

And yes, I am. But I shake my head no and give her a small smile, as if I'm happy they have disappeared from my mind. But they haven't disappeared, they are still there.

"Okay, now lets just have you lay down, and I'm going to tell you your goal for this week."

She could see the look on my face, the look that says why do I have to lay down for you to tell me the goal of the week.

I see a small, amused smile make its way onto her lips at my look

"They have me do this because they think it will sink in more if you're laying down with your eyes closed, no distractions and stuff like that." She answers.

I nod my head, laying down across the couch and closing my eyes like she told me to do. But I didn't listen to what she said, because when I closed my eyes there was the biggest distraction of all.

Harry.

Harry, with his wet chest in those gym showers yesterday. Harry, with his muscled arms gripping underneath my thighs and holding me up against the shower wall as he whispered hotly into my ear, my legs wrapped tightly around his hips.

"Do you like when I fuck you hard, baby?"

His voice had been gravelly and rough as he breathed this into my ear, his swear word making my whole body heat as he met my hips time after time. I nod my head, leaning it back against the shower wall as my chest rose and fell frantically.

"I want to hear you say it."

And I knew exactly what he meant, but the words had felt foreign and strange on my lips, but naughty and good all at the same time.

"I like when you fuck me hard, Harry." Id nearly whimpered this, the breath being taken from my lungs as his lips attached to my neck.

"Okay Alex, that's it for today."

I open my eyes abruptly, as if she could see what I was thinking. I feel as if my cheeks are flushed from my memory, but I brush it aside as I glance to the clock. It's been an hour and fifteen minutes. I get out of there as fast as I could after she told me to concentrate on my goal this week, which I didn't even know what it was. And I saw him, his head rested back on the wall as he slumped in the chair, eyes closed and hands limp in his lap.

"He fell asleep about 45 minutes ago."

The receptionist at the desk tells me this with a small laugh and I nod my head with a smile. I couldn't help but take out my phone and snap a quick picture of him before putting it back in my pocket.

I walk up to him and run my hand over his cheek to try and wake him. When that doesn't do anything, I run my fingers through his hair because I.
knew this would succeed. His eyelashes flutter open and he raises his hand to rub over his face, eyes flicking up to look at me. I smile at him and he chuckles.

"Sorry." He tells me, his voice husky with sleep.

"I'm beat." He yawns.

When he stands he winds his arm around me, asking me how my session went. I shrugged my shoulders indifferently and clung to his side as we walked to his car, the harsh wind nipping at my skin.

"Now, we have to go to lunch with the morons."

I laugh at what he decided to call his friends, and slide into the passengers seat as he opens the door for me.



Alex-

******

Thanksgiving passed, and that made it all the closer to meeting Harrys family.

I wouldn't say I'm scared. I'm more nervous than anything.

Three panic attacks. That's how many I've had since my last therapy session.

Zero cuts. That's how many I've inflicted on myself since my last therapy session. Harrys proud, and he knows because he checks, even though I tell him that he can trust me, because I told him I would never do it again.

"Hey, where are you going?" Harry grumbles as I climb off my bed.

We are 'packing' for when we leave to go to his Mums house, but it ended up to be just a cuddle session in my bed with clothes all around us.

I don't answer him because he can clearly see where I am going since I'm headed towards my bathroom, because I actually need to pee really bad. After releasing my bladder I walk to the sink to wash my hands, putting my hands under the faucet and after realizing there is no soap. I keep the water running as I lean down to the cupboard under my sink to retrieve a new bar of soap. And that's when I see the box, my eyebrows crossing in curiosity. When was the last time I used these tampax?

I stumble to my feet, shutting off the water quickly. I lean against the sink, counting on my wet fingers from the last I knew I had my period, and the last time Harry and I had unprotected sex. I know I had my period last month, but it hasn't came this month. And as I count the days since my last one, I realize that I'm almost two weeks late. That's when I actually began to do the math in my head.

I know at the gym we did not use protection, but we were careful, very, very careful.

I know we used a condom in his car, so when else would it have been? And that's when it hit me, the day he left to go camping. I told myself not to worry, and that maybe I'm just being paranoid and flipping out for no reason. But almost being two weeks late? I've been late before, they always vary and change, but never like this.

"Alex, you alright in there?"

His voice made me jump in place, my palm pressing to my chest in shock.

I push myself off the counter and walk to the door. I don't know if I should tell him or even worry him about it, because it could all be just a misunderstanding. But I've lied to him and kept something from him once, and I won't do it again. I open the door, and I knew he saw the worry in my eyes.

"I'm late." I blurt out, my chest seeming to begin to hurt from my heart beating so fast.

"What?" He questions.

I roll my eyes because boys never understand anything like that. His eyes frantically searched my face as I bit my lip to try and figure out how I should tell him. But I turn around and grab the tampax box the my cupboard instead, holding it up for him to see.

"You just did though didn't you? I remember because you wouldn't let us fool around." Harry tells me.

Doesn't he realize that that was last month?

"Last month." I tell him.

And when his eyes just about bulge out of his head, that's when I begin to panic. Because if Harrys panicking......

I hastily set the box back down on my bathroom counter and lean against it, trying to control the jagged breaths coming from my lungs. I wanted Harry to come over and help me, but he's frozen standing by the door.

"Are you absolutely sure you're late?" He asks me.

I throw my arms up in the air in frustration and annoyance, his hands running over his face.

"Fuck, Alex what are we supposed to do?"

I knew he was at a loss of what to do in this situation, but so was I. I wanted to explain to him that it's not a for sure thing yet, that we will just need to wait it out for a while until my period comes or until I take a pregnancy rest or something. But I couldn't get to that because I had to lean down to rest my hands on my knees, shutting my eyes and forcing myself to try and hold my breath like the therapist told me to do, because my first option is glued to his feet by the doorway.

But it didn't help, because it scared me. So I ended up sinking onto the floor, and when I finally feel his hand touch my back, and his voice in my ear, I knew I would be fine.

"What are we going to do?" He murmurs.

But it was more to himself than me.


Comment and vote?(:

Please don't say that Alex being prego will ruin the story or that it is cliche because you never know what's gunna happen!(;