Regrets

This story is of a girl, she's quiet by choice, she won't answer unless you want the full story...


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1. Just tell me.

I lay awkwardly and uncomfortably across the therapists couch.
"Look, it's nothing really..." I answered to Miss Smithson. But she still replied as always with the same thing every single Wednesday at nine forty-nine.
"Just tell me" She persisted, I could hear slight suppressed anger in her voice. Her eyes widened and she attempted some way to tell me of her anger though those piercing black eyes.
"No, it's way too personal" I said, clenching my fists. I was angry, not angry enough to strike the woman but angry enough to go home after this and file in as my concerned imaginary brother who wanted really bad to write 'Swifton Helping Co' a very  strongly worded letter, with many underlined words to emphasize the words with anger and sometimes the woop-dee-doo wavy-words that show only the best sarcasm.
It was a weird thought to run into my mind. But I did as always, sitting next to the therapist that my mother assigned me and persisting not to tell her of what is actually going on in my life.
Miss Smithson sighed and answered in an angered silent tone that could have scared the 'boogey-man'
"Get. Out" She said, it pained my head to even listen to her voice anyway. I was glad to leave but before I could even move a limb she continued her last sentence.
"You ungrateful little shit! I walk in this room every Wednesday to look after you're sorry teen-age ass! I never try and miss this session, and do you know why?!" She said, only pausing for a second, I assumed she wasn't waiting for an answer, as I believed this was rhetorical.
"Do you?!" She repeated, her voice was worse than a bullet to the head, whiny and sharp but still groggy from her morning coffee, which I observed she drunk black which gave her a demonic edge into her whine.
"No I do not, Miss Smithson, please enlighten me!" I yelled back, still lying stiffly on the couch.
"Because every single fucking week I come in here, and for what? Silence! I don't miss this session because I think, maybe, just, maybe I could get a word out of you! Five sentences this week! Amazing! I've been here for eighteen years Miss. Benzene McKinney and I won't stand an eighth year of you're whining-" I cut her off in mid-sentence.
"You're the one to talk!" I say grabbing my bag, I had no use for the bag other than it gave me a look of purpose and poise, I had broken the zip a long time ago and still haven't told my mother...

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