VALENTINE, elijah hewson

i've been feeling alienated

tw . . . mentions of rape, abuse, depression !

          Leg shaking, looking down at the floor, the only thing being heard is the time ticking from the clock above. Rory sat on the chair, ignoring the stare recieved from the woman infront of her. Skin picking, avoiding eye contact, watching as the time slowly flew by. Rory was dreading it, she felt under pressure to finally speak up.

It was her first session with a therapist, one she was shockingly convinced to see by Gene considering he wasn't the most sweet and sentimental person. He knew she had so much on her mind that was waiting to come out, and he knew she had a problem with expressing her feelings. So he told her she should go, even if it was a one time thing. Gene expressed how much it would benefit Rory.

The blonde, however, completely disagreed and thought it was a horrible idea. But nothing was stopping Gene from taking her.

So there she sat, she had been in the room for about five minutes and not one word was spoken. Rory wanted to be anywhere else but that room. She wasn't fond on opening up her heart to a complete stranger just for her to write it all down and not help at all.

"So Lorelai-"

"Rory."

"I'm sorry?" The woman raised her eyebrows at the girls sudden harsh tone.

"Rory's my name. Not Lorelai."

"Okay, Rory." The woman smiled, watching as Rory didn't lift her gaze from off the floor. "How are you today?"

"I'm fine." She shrugged, picking on her nails.

"Nothing more to it than 'just fine'?" The woman asked, sighing as Rory shook her head. She clicked her pen and began to write something down on the blank piece of lined paper on her lap. Rory stared at her in confusion.

"Are you going to write down everything I say?" Rory asked, not meaning to come off at rude.

"I don't have to if you don't want me to. This is all confidential either way." Rory shrugged. The therapist opened the file infront of her, putting on her glasses as she read through the information on the page. "It says here that your mother, Lorelai Campbell, died when you were fourteen."

Rory froze in her seat, looking up at the woman infront of her. "How did you get that?"

"Never mind that." She softly brushed past the question. "You both have the same name-"

"Yeah no shit." Rory muttered. The therapist heard her clearly, but decided to ignore her.

"Is that why you don't like being called Lorelai, because it reminds you too much of her?"

"I-" Rory looked back down, her leg bouncing up and down at a faster pace. Her lip quivered slightly, there was nothing she hated more than talking about her family. "I- I mean I guess. I just don't really um . . . want to be reminded of her." Rory took in a deep breath, feeling as if tears were about to erupt at any given moment.

"And why's that?"

"Do you really have to be asking these questions? Does it even matter?" Rory argued, running her hand through her hair. "It's gonna do nowt."

"Rory, I'm only trying to help you. I'm curious about you. You're carrying burdens from people who didn't love you as much as you deserved to be loved." She softly stated. "I'm just trying to help you carry those burdens a little more lightly. Or set them down once and for all. Whatever you want to say, I would love to listen."

Rory sighed in defeat. "Well, I guess I just . . . I miss her. A lot. And it doesn't help knowing I barely remember a thing about her." Rory truthfully told the therapist, still looking down at the floor.