please, come back. [two] ✔

5

Gold^^^ seriously tho, humor at its finest

This is a long-ass motherfucking chapter, you're welcome.

The therapist has an American University psychology doctor degree. It sounds a bit too vague to be real. The framed diploma hangs proudly over the Pará rubber tree, which has leaves that are way too green to be real.

"I want you to know, that you can talk to me about everything." says the therapist. She talks in a calm voice and at a slow pace - like a bitch would if it knew how to speak. "All you speak or do here will stay between me and you. Unless you want me to share this with others." It sounds like she's telling me my anti-rights.

"Yes, confidentiality, got it." he gets it but doesn't believe it for a second. How can you believe a therapist, whose rubber tree in the waiting room isn't even real?

Pepper was here with him at first. She was supposed to tell the therapist about the topics she needs to address with him, but instead, they talked about random gossip instead for half of the entirety of my first session. When Pepper noticed the time she quickly went over some things and then left for a meeting in a hurry. "He was kidnapped, and he has severe PTSD. That's all I can remember at this moment. Bye!" she waved at the therapist but didn't even look at Peter.

"Alright." says the therapist when it's just the two of us in the room. "Tell me something."

"No." He knows he has to keep himself at bay. He feels like my whole life consists of keeping calm. This woman doesn't know him. She can't see into his mind. She can only know what he tells her, meaning he can lie.

"Peter, talk to me. Remember, you can trust me."

"No! I'm here against my free will, and-" there goes keeping calm.

"If you don't talk to me, they're gonna put you in a hospital." Peters' head shot up, eyes filled with fear. Hospitals were white. "Your mom signed the required papers to allow us to do that." her tone was very sincere but stern at the same time, which gave him a strange feeling.

"Please. Don't put me in a hospital." he squeaked out while pulling his knees up to his chin and wrapping his arms around them.

"Then let's talk. We should start with hospitals, you clearly have a fear of them. Why?"

"When I was kidnapped, something bad happened and white is the thing that most identifies with that. And hospitals are white," he mumbled, and the therapist took notes. There goes lying. "I also hate too much dark. And concrete. Those two together are the worst." she looked up.

"And why is that? Did they hurt you wherever they took you?" Peter nodded in response. "Alright. Do you have any sleeping problems?"

Peter nodded again. "No." and it's the truth. He doesn't have problems sleeping, he just chooses not to sleep because every time he does, he gets nightmares. The therapist raises an eyebrow. Probably because he has massive bags under his eyes. "I, um, don't sleep a lot. And every time I do, I have nightmares."

"Are the nightmares always same, or do they change?" Peter nods again.

"They mostly stay the same, except each time something is different from the last nightmare. The beginning, the scenery of one point in the nightmare, something that happens... Anything. Except for the end. That's always the same." (honestly, I have no idea what the fuck I'm talking about because I don't know what therapists do)

"What is the ending like?" she asked, leaning over a bit, holding her pen in her left hand and the notebook in her right.

"A white room, a lot of people chanting the same thing over, and over, and over again. Then after they disappear, a little girl who speaks, and then turns to dust." he notices how she writes down a lot of things.