@crackinupp // <3’d for a starter
Hands rub nervously against her black legging clad thighs. Sweat had accumulated on her palms. Her face throbs from the slowly-healing wounds endured days prior. They are noticeable, but not so much to be disfiguring. Yes, they would heal more so with time, but the deeper wounds, the emotional ones, those would take much longer. This was NOT something she looked forward to. Of course, something deep within her knew it was needed, especially after everything she had been through. But, needing something is not akin to wanting it. The sterile air of the waiting room had a chill to it, no doubt to keep any germs at bay, but she began to wish she would have brought a thicker jacket.
Tongue darts between teeth, tracing along the inside of her cheek. The deafening sound of a nearby clock ticks away, and it echoes in her ears. How much longer would she have to wait? The more time went on, the more she wanted to flee, to run away from this place. The sound of a door opening alerts her focus, attention shifting towards that sound. She expects it to be the therapist she was scheduled to see, but judging by the appearance of the individual, such was not the case.
A breath is relinquished, resembling a heavy sigh. The man looked almost troubled, though something deep within her was curious about him, almost drawn to him --- in a sense. Eyes which held the SEA and STARS within them divert away from him, hoping he does not catch her leering. Fingers mindlessly fiddle with one another, but it is not enough to hold her focus long. Through her periphery, she sees him, watching him closely. But then, her mind drifts away, to that moment which had sent her to court-mandated counseling.
Memories flash through her mind; running throughout her step-father’s home, ready to meet her with heavy hands yet again; captured by the back of her shirt, turning around and suddenly, a great fire burning him alive; phantoms of the flashing red and blue lights come to the forefront of her mind. The smell of burnt flesh fills her nostrils again, a GHOST of what once was. Shaking herself out of the reverie, her head raises slightly, flitting to check the time. Fifteen more minutes.
Why did it seem like time was going by so slowly? She then realized that this mystery man and herself were the only people in the waiting room. She wondered about him, about what TROUBLES brought him to this place. Were they similar to her own? She hoped not. She would not wish this on anyone. Fractional shift of focus, to the one window in the room. Rain patters against the darkened glass, a rhythmic fashion which added to the clicking away of time.
The dismal weather seemed to pair quite well with the situation, she believed. Nevertheless, she would hope it would stop before her appointment was over. Clearing her throat, she then attempts, in vain, to make small talk. “Hey,” She greets in a meek, barely there voice. “How are you?”
