@intoheart because its 8:30 am and I’m still awake
“Can you please stop by the clinic before we go any further?” Her voice mail had said. He was standing in front of the building, biting his lip and staring up at the sign. He’d been standing there for ten minutes, reading that sign. He’d managed to come to the door, but going inside?
What if she said “no”, because he was too dangerous? What if she said “no” because he was just overreacting and just a kid? Adults get therapy. Not kids. He should never have turned in that stupid form. He should leave, before he wastes her time.
Instead, he reaches for the door, reminding himself not to break the handle as he pulls it open. He had already broken two cups this morning when he tried to eat breakfast, before he gave up.
He’s in his civilian identity, so at least he’s able to pull his hat down some as he walks inside. “Hello? Miss? You there?” He stepped further inside, letting the door swing shut behind him. He’s all nervous energy, tapping his feet, fidgeting with his hat, clenching and unclenching his hands, anything to keep from bolting like he really wants to.