Chapter Text
She keeps looking at me like I'm something to pity. That's the only way people look at me now. I hate it. Mentally, I'm screaming at her to fuck off and look the other way.
Dr. Burdick is a good therapist, that's what the victim advocate Helena said, at least. Dr. Burdick's reviews on Google were alright, too. But she's a stranger. She isn't my regular therapist.
"How have you been feeling?" Dr. Burdick breaks the awkward silence.
"I'm fine."
She doesn't believe me. Why would she? No one does. I don't even believe myself.
"You're getting your voice back," she comments. "5 weeks without being able to talk is a long time. Must have been torture. I know it would be for me."
I nod. I sometimes miss my jaw being wired shut, no one forced me to talk then. It was great, minus the pain and not having solid foods like a juicy, spicy chicken sandwich, of course.
"You're not going to talk much during this appointment, are you?" She asks. "I don't mind it. We can sit here until you're ready to talk."
I sigh and slump back in the stupid, uncomfortable chair. "What do you want me to say?"
"Let's not talk about what happened in the field that night," she says and I let out a sigh of relief. "Tell me how this happened. I don't mean the cheating or the secrets. Take me back to the beginning."