The Therapist >> h.s.

"There are other ways to be free.", He says, looking up in to my eyes. I keep my sharp stare at him, "Not if you aren't allowed to have it." © Copyright of Maggi Styles ♡ 2014. All rights reserved.


7. vi











(Before I get comments about her over reacting, keep in mind she does have manic depression, k? Now press play on the video above and enjoy the chapter c: )


Two months.

Two fucking months.

I haven't seen Harry in two months. He quit seeing me as a patient and sends someone else every week. He won't answer my calls, texts, anything. He just disappeared.

"Jenna?", The older therapist lady grabs my attention. I keep a tight hold of my knees. hugging them. I need comfort and all I can get is the warmth of my own body.

I rest my head on my knees. I haven't spoke a word to this lady after I asked her about Harry. Mostly I'm hurt. He helped me threw hell and now throws me back in.

I hear the door opening and my mothers voice, "Jenna? Please eat something."

I just clutch my knees closer to my chest. She taps my shoulder. I move away quickly, cringing. "Go away", I whisper.


"Go away!", I yell looking at her. She looks taken back, nodding at the lady. I watch as they both walk out. My hands find my alarm clock and just slam in against the door, screaming as I do. 

"Fuck you!", I yell. I get up from the chair, walking over to my phone. As I press the home button I immediately regret it, "No New Message", it read across the screen. I slide my phone open, scrolling down to Harry's contact. I press call and put the phone in my ear. The rings were making it worse as it kept ringing and ringing. The ringing stops and his voice machine starts talking. "Shit!"

I wait for the god damn beep, "Harry, you fucker. I'm done. You asshole. You can't do that to people, you can't!" I press end call and throw my phone on the bed. 

I'm done.

As I grab a bag from my closet, throwing it on my bed as well. I grab clothes and any essentials I need. My balcony was the best option of leaving without being seen. I put my bag by the balcony, as I write a note for my mom. But she probably will throw a party while I'm gone. 

I throw my bag down to the ground, climbing down as well. I finally get to the bottom and run. Just run. I have no idea where I'm going, I just know I'm going somewhere away from here.



Two months.

Two long, horrible months.

I want to run to her door. But I know its not right. We both need time. I need time. I sent one of the other therapist to help her. Maybe that's the best thing to do right now.

I've ignored her calls and texts. I have to get her to forget. Forget about the kiss, about the connection, and to forget about me.

She doesn't need me. I'm screwed up myself.

I take out a cigarette, ugly habit but its the only way to relax. I light it, putting it in my mouth, inhaling it into my lungs, then blowing smoke out. It's a very interesting yet horrible process. 

It's sick that I try to counsel people out of smoking, but I can't stop myself. 

I scribble more thoughts down on my notepad. Most of which are about her eyes, god you can drown in them. She is most beautiful, fragile thing you will ever see. Maybe thats why I get more and more interested in her overtime I see her.


That is why I need to stop. I can't stop. It is taking every fiber in my being not to call her and tel her that I don't hate her, at all. 

I hope she is okay.

As if on cue, my phone starts to ring. I see that it is her. I press decline, sending it straight to my voicemail. God, I want to hear her voice. I put out my cigarette, as I hear my phone beep. I look at it seeing '1 New Voicemail'.

I unlock my phone, pressing on play next to the voice mail.

"Harry, you fucker. I'm done. You asshole. You can't do that to people, you can't!"

​I deserved that. I deserve a lot more. She deserves a lot more then me. She deserves happiness. 

I throw my phone across the room, it hits the wall then falls to the floor, as do I. I rest my head against the wall taking a breath. 

It's for the best.

It's for the best.

After about 4 hours of binge-watching 'Scandal', my phone starts to ring. I get up from the couch, picking it up from the ground.

"Jenna's mom?", I ask myself in disbelief.

I press answer and hear Jenna's mom frantically rambling. "Hello? Mrs. Marks?"

"Dr. Styles! It's Jenna! She is gone!"

I almost lose my balance, "What?"

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