Stolen Voices ✓

March 20th

There are no secrets that time does not reveal.

-Jean Racine

March 20th:

The world can be quite tranquil, as if the pieces of its perplexity lined up in synchrony. Elias decides to focus on this tranquility, shutting out the voices in his head telling him to turn around. Instead, he stares out the window, watching as buildings blur.

It's funny, realizing you've been looking at something for so long and not seeing it. Elias is watching the buildings, although they morph into a blob of gray and black colors. He is trying, very hard, to keep his anxiety at bay. His knuckles whitened as his fists clamped at his sides.

Elias has decided that in order to clear his head, to fully get better and release himself of his anxieties hold, he will have to seek guidance. Not only seek the help, but accept it. Allow it to do its job and make him feel better. He'll admit, it was partially Mara's doing, how she so openly admits that she has problems without a thought. Elias realized he couldn't reach her level of carefree happiness unless he solicites aid.

He's seen a therapist before, countless of them, but he's never let them do their job. This time, he went searching, he picked who'd he best thought could help him. His mother was more than willing to take him, and his father, well, he wouldn't stop smiling.

So here they are now, driving to the office halfway across town. Elias is regulating his breathing because although he wants remedy, it's terrifying. Scared that he will have to tell someone the secret he's kept for two years. Afraid of what people may think of him. Ashamed, really. A feeling that burns deep down in his gut for being so weak, paralyzed by the voices in his head.

Mostly afraid of what his mother may think. It is her family, in a way, Elias feels he betrayed her trust by allowing what happened to him without stopping her.

His knee continues to bounce, creating a tapping noise even after he occupies the waiting room. His appointment is the last of the day, in hopes, he won't have to deal with a crowd. Only the nice man behind the receptionists' desk is here, smiling at Elias, whose expression is grim.

"You must be Elias," a shorter woman appears in the doorway, motioning to Elias. "I'm Dr. Alice, but you can call me Alice or Allie, I don't mind. Why don't you step into my office? We can just chat, or sit in silence, whatever you'd like."

The first thing Elias notices is her hair, blazing red. It reminds Elias of Mara's spirit, a scintillating ball of energy. And the woman's eyes, they are also blue but much darker than Mara's. Mara's eyes are more the sky, whereas her's seemed to be more of the storm lingering behind.

Elias nods, passing into her smaller office, clean and tidy. Softy, the door shuts behind him, he's relieved to hear no click. She didn't locked it, her eyes understanding as she sits across from Elias. He feels uncomfortable on her couch, naked in her presence. Like, with just a look, she's analyzing him. All of his thoughts written on his skin in wounds.

"Why don't you tell me about yourself," she greets, leaning back into her chair. A clipboard rests on her knee, although she didn't have any writing utensils in her hands. She looked expectantly at Elias with no judgment, watching as he fought his inner turmoil.

He blinked slowly, shrugging his shoulders. He can't talk, Dr. Alice knows this already, after the assessment she had with his mother. He doesn't really understand what she was getting at.

"You don't have to speak to tell me about yourself," she shoves a piece of paper his way, "draw it out, write, show me."

Elias looks at the paper, the empty white printer paper. A box of crayons is to his left, and somehow he grabs the black one in his left clutch. Unsure, he lets his hands scribble, spewing out what he'd imagined his mind to look like on paper.