Breaking Eden - (rough draft)

9 - Therapy for the Wicked (Not Edited)

Please note that this hasn't been edited yet. It's a raw draft. Feel free to rip it apart. Tell me what you like or hate. I want to make BE the best book it can possibly be so honest feedback is always welcome. Consider sharing this book on social media and with others who may enjoy it and help get Breaking Eden noticed by Wattpad. Thanks for reading! :0)

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9 – Therapy for the Wicked

Night fell too quickly for Eden's liking. She needed time to think alone, to figure what her next move would be. She found herself wanted to give in, throw in the towel and submit to Declan. But when she envisioned spending the rest of her life here, doing God knows what, that heavy, suffocating darkness crept into her heart, seeped into her thoughts, and made her want to die.

She no paced the length of her room, glaring out into the evening silence in yearning. I miss going outside.

It was all she could focus on. The feel of the night air on her bare skin, the feel of the moons light, and the billions of stars behind it.

I want to be out there again.

The door burst open.

Matilda waltzed in, bringing with her a set of clothes, nothing special. A simple white top that hung loose around Eden's hips and a pair of black pants which fit her better.

Eden slid them on without asking questions. Matilda was no longer any help to her. She waited near the door while Eden dressed, her hands tucked neatly into the pockets of her apron, her features void of any emotion.

Once Eden was finished dressing herself, Matilda gave her a curt nod and headed into the hallway. Eden followed after her, not really knowing where they were headed.

Down the stairs they went, took a left down one hallway and a right down another.

Eden vaguely recognized this place. When the others hand to find her and bring her to Declan's room, she'd entered a side door. The one they just past. The hallway would bring them to a sitting room.

Sure enough, it was the same room.

It was a study of sorts.

The oversized fireplace glowed bright, casting heat and light into the room. The walls were lined with floor to ceiling bookcases, its shelves stuffed full of books and objects. Opposite a grand oak wood desk sat two wing backed chairs, blue in color and velvet soft.

The men sitting in the room were in deep conversation. But as the women entered, their voices dropped, and all conversation stopped.

Dr. Morrison stood, offering Eden his chair next to Declan. "Please, sit."

Eden willed herself to reign in her emotions, to not cave and expose herself to soon. She sat, crossing a slim leg over her other and leaning away from Declan.

She wouldn't look at him, she couldn't without feeling that deep seeding depression rise up. Not only did she fear having to expose her deep, terrifying thoughts, she feared how Declan would see her after this meeting. She worried that the moment she looked at Declan, she'd cry and never be able to stop.

This was the end of the road. A crossroads of what would happen next. Would Eden leave this room a fighter, vowing never to give up hope of one day breaking free of this madness or would she give in, promise to listen better, to behave how he expected her to, and to sign the contract, the first step in submitting her will.

Matilda showed up not even a minute later with a dining room chair clutched between her hands. She set it nearest the therapist on the other side of the desk and motioned him to sit.