Okay, this is an experiment. Please forgive me if I've done something wrong. This was actually a bet. You see, one of my friends think that I can't write a normal love story and I just want to prove her wrong. But I don't know if I'll succeed. So I'm giving this a try and I kind of have a plot. Now, I'll continue this story if I see that I have enough support. So please guys, show some love! Review!
Oh and also, this is FAX! Just a warning.
And it might seem a bit dark though, but it will get better. SORRY if I can't keep up!
Chapter: 1
Living a lie.
When I wake up with the morning light I can always breathe
Somehow that never has meant much to me
and I can't say I am thankful for the things I have…
She cut the call and stared at her phone angrily. This was useless. Why did she ever want to be a psychiatrist? This was exhausting!
She opened her notepad and stared at the day's events. There were three appointments today starting from 11. It was 10 now and she already felt drowned. She looked at the first name. Rose Hathaway, a middle aged wealthy woman suffering from sleep deprivation. The next one was a young man suffering from a post traumatic disorder, John Gramm. The third one…
The third one caught her eyes.
This was the third session with the man and she still didn't understand anything about him. In the first two sessions, the whole time he just sat there staring out the window. He didn't talk about his problem, and it was obvious that he was forced to come here.
Dr. Bloom wondered if this session was going to be the same.
...
...
...
...
...
...
April 15, 2014
When he woke up, his first instinct was to run his hand on the empty side of the bed. But like the past year, it was the same. There was no one beside him; the simple evidence was enough to crush his hope of it being a nightmare.
And like every other morning, he opened his eyes and sighed when she didn't come out of the bathroom with dripping wet hair and smiled at him with flushed cheeks.
He hit the on button of the coffee maker and it wheezed to life. As he brushed his teeth he thought about what to do today. It was only ten. But it wasn't until he was getting ready for a stroll that he remembered his session with the psychiatrist he had that day which was in four. He sighed as he poured two cups of coffee and placed one in front of the empty chair as he sipped the other.
Like the psychiatrist, he also thought that it was useless.
...
...
...
"Do you mind if I record this?" She asked politely and he shook his head. "So," She sighed as she made herself comfortable on the sofa. "How do you feel?"
"As usual." He kept staring out the window.
Three minutes passed in silence.
"You don't ask questions." He stated. "Does it bother you? The fact that I'm not saying much about my problems?"
"No, it doesn't." She gently smiled. "I am a complete stranger. I can't expect that you'd start trusting me right away."
"But I can't go on like this, right? They said they won't let me back in the Force if you don't give approval."
She didn't say anything to that. Instead she took a different approach.
"You know, Mr. Walker, I find it a bit unfair." She said. "You have to tell everything to your psychiatrist, a person that you barely know will get to know everything about your life, whether you like it or not." His eyes retreated from the window and found hers, and she vaguely wondered if he was confused with her sudden approach. "So here's something about me. I am 32 years old and I'm married. I have a daughter. I never gave much thought about being a psychiatrist, I wanted to be a photographer, but my mother had a dream of me being a doctor and to grant her wish I became a surgeon. After a few years I came to this line because I started to hate the sight of blood. But deep inside I still wish to be a photographer." She took a deep breath. "But these don't say much, right? So, here's something more…I had a step-father and he used to abuse us, me and my mother. When I turned twelve though, the cops got him and we were free of him. But as a teenager, I was traumatized. I was suffering from depression and I started to cut myself. I tried to commit suicide four times and two of the times I was really close." She stared into his eyes, wondering what he was thinking. "Life is hard. And I can't promise you that it'll get any easier or you'll get your happy ending, but that doesn't mean you can give up. Because you can't."
And she stared at him, waiting for his response. But there was none, instead his gaze went back to the window.
"Mr. Walker…"
"Fang." He cut her off. "My friends call me Fang."
She stared at him, surprised at this sudden outburst, but nodded for him to continue.
"I feel empty." He answered her first question. "I feel really empty and I don't think I'll be able to feel anything else ever again." A sigh escaped him, vanishing in the stiff air of the room as he continued. "I get it. I get what you're trying to say. But if you want to understand, you're gonna have to listen from the beginning."
"It's your time." She said calmly. "You can talk about anything you want, I will listen."
He nodded as his mind wandered off.
"We knew each other from the same high school , but, I was always the loner and she was one of the popular kids, so we never really talked." His eyes became blank as he relived a memory. "Then in the fourth year of high school, I became the captain of the basketball team and one day out of blue, she asked me out. We were together for four years. Then after finishing college and joining the force, I proposed her."
For the first time in three sessions, she finally saw some emotions in his eyes as a small smile played on his lips.
Adore affection and care.
The signs of true love.
"And on 16th April, 2008, I married Lisa Hawkins."
…I'm a hell of a guy, living a hell of a lie.