Sometimes in life, things happen that cause problems in someone's life. Some people face these problems head on. But some people try to avoid them, or pretend they don't exist, and try to move on with their life. This is a story of a man with what he thinks is a problem. This is also the story of how this man overcame that problem with the help from someone that he had never expected to get it from…
.oOo.
Usually in the mornings, the sun would shine through the curtains, the birds would sing, and Arthur would start his day with a cup of Earl Grey tea, a small smile residing upon his face. This wasn't one of those mornings, though. You see, this morning in particular, when Arthur woke up expecting to see everything described above, it was raining harshly against his windows in his bedroom, and there were no birds singing, making it seem empty and lonely outside. And on sad lonely days like this, it could only mean that he had a therapy appointment scheduled.
Arthur hated going to therapy, because it made him feel… different. Though everyone is different, going made him feel like people looked at him weird, or that he might be locked up for something that he hadn't done. You know, simple things that people would be paranoid about.
But the only reason that Arthur was going therapy was something that had happened as a child. Not to him, but his mother, and he was the one to stop it.
.oOo.
A young Arthur woke to the sound of fighting, one voice sounding like his mother. The other sounding like her boyfriend. Well, ex-boyfriend. She had broken up with him earlier that week, and apparently he had thought that the relationship wouldn't be over till he said it was over.
He had walked towards the top of the stairs in their house, only to be met with the site of his mother being raped before him. Now at that time, he didn't know what his mothers' ex-boyfriend was doing. But judging by the tears streaming down her face, or maybe even the mortified look on her face, that it had to stop somehow.
He didn't even hesitate, or bother to look back. He didn't even consider calling the police to take care of the whole situation. Instead, this small boy who would some day turn into a gentleman, ran to his room and grabbed a baseball bat that had been given to him a year earlier from his mother. The next thing he knew, he was down the stairs, and the bat had connected with the man's jaw.
His mother was still crying, whether from the mortification of being raped, or the shock of her only son beating her ex-boyfriend with a bat. He wouldn't ever know, actually, because two years later, she died in a car crash coming home from work. Arthur never got any closure for what happened, and he didn't want any. It made him feel… different.
.oOo.
And so, ever since then, Arthur had been avoiding going to therapy, or any other form of physiological help. He just didn't feel the need nor want to go and see someone, because he just didn't see the point in going to talk to someone about what happened years ago in a house in England. He didn't live there anymore, so he had hoped to leave all of the bad memories of everything that had happened behind. But sadly, Francis had found out and called a therapist for him.
And sadly enough today was his first appointment.
.oOo.
"Arthur, your therapist is ready to see you now." The lady at the desk seemed nice enough. If she was nice, then the therapist would be nice as well, right? It seemed logical enough…
Arthur stood up from the chair he was previously sitting in, making the plastic on it make a slight squeaking noise, causing him to give a slight grimace. He walked towards the therapists' door slowly, not in much of a hurry. He gave a small look at the door, looking for a name or some sign that may indicate a friendly composure and personality. Then again, that wouldn't really give much indication.
He sighed quietly and looked back down. He hesitated for a moment before bringing his hand up to the door in the shape of a fist and quietly knocking.
A voice sounded from behind the door, signaling for him to go ahead. "Come in."
He shook his head lightly with his half lidded eyes before placing his hand gently on the handle of the door and turning slightly, pushing the door open. As he stepped into the room, he lifted his head to look at the source of the voice. He was met with the sight of a young man with blond hair much like his own, but actually cut into a sensible style. And eyes as clear and blue as the sky on a nice spring day with glasses. He looked only maybe a few years younger than Arthur himself…
He looked away before he was accused of staring and shut the door behind him softly. He walked towards the chair he assumed was supposed to be his and sat down, huffing quietly as he did so.
"Welcome," the man said politely. "I'm Dr. Jones, but you can just call me Alfred." Alfred straightened some papers on his desk, making some noise to fill in the silence that had fallen upon the room.
"…Aren't you supposed to be asking me questions or something?" Arthur asked irritably.
"Mm? Well, the point of therapy is to make you more comfortable and help resolve problems of some sort. There's no real point in asking a question without getting an answer." Arthur stared at Alfred with slightly widened eyes, not expecting an answer like that coming from him. Sure, he was a therapist, but if you saw him on the street you'd just think he'd be some dunce. "So long story short, we need to actually get acquainted better before I'm able to ask you some questions. Does that seem okay?"
Arthur just nodded and leaned back into his chair. It was a lot more comfortable than the ones in the lobby of the building…
Alfred smiled lightly at him, before continuing to speak to Arthur. "So why don't you tell me a bit about yourself."
"Like what?"
"How about like why you're here. That might be a good place to start, yes?"
Arthur sighed, preparing to tell the story of why he was here. He crossed his arms lightly and leaned further back into the chair, only to slide out of it a bit.
"I want to forget."
"Forget what, Arthur?"
"…Everything. I don't want to have to deal with the memories anymore."
Alfred leaned forward onto his desk, resting his head on one hand and the other arm residing on the desk by itself. "Memories? What kind, if you don't mind me asking."
Arthur smiled sadly, "You're a therapist. I think you should probably know everything in order to help."
Alfred smiled back at him, nodding. "That's true."
Arthur sighed and closed his eyes. "When I was just a young boy, I woke up one night to see mother being raped by her ex-boyfriend. I didn't hesitate, or even think about calling the police. I just… lost it. The next things I knew, I had a bat in my hands and he was on the floor bleeding." Arthur opened up his eyes again, to see if Alfred was still listening.
Alfred nodded towards him, "Go on."
Arthur nodded and kept his eyes open, but looked towards to ground, pretending to be interested in a particular spot on the carpet.
"I managed to give him a broken nose, broken jaw, and a mild concussion before I finally realized what I was doing. So I finally stopped right before the police came." Arthur sighed quietly to himself. "He died about a week later because meningitis contracted during reconstructive surgery."
Alfred just looked at him no differently than he did before Arthur had told the story. "So you're here because of what you saw and what you did. It can place a very large emotional weight on anyone, but especially on a growing child's mind. We can't help you work past it with you all closed up like you are."
Arthur just looked him in the eyes. If he wanted to know how he felt, then he'd damn well tell him.
"You want to know how I feel?" Alfred nodded, waiting to here Arthur's answer.
"I didn't freeze or pause. I just let my brain and body do what I wanted. When the bat connected with his head, it felt good. I took control of a wild situation, and it was right. People always told me that violence didn't solve anything… Well life's not so simple. My mother always told me that it was important to grow up and be a man when I was younger. Sometimes that means standing up and defending what's right and that can be violent. So, I realize being a man isn't about just having strength. It's about judgment, and how to act towards each situation. That man is dead. I knew that inside I was supposed to feel bad, but I didn't feel anything towards him."
Arthur took a moment to get his breath back from speaking that much before resuming. "I just hope that my feelings don't get me landed in an insane asylum."
The silence in the room was completely unbearable for Arthur, but he guessed that Alfred was used to it or it didn't bother him at all. During the story, Alfred's face had gone blank, but Arthur could tell from Alfred's eyes that he was still listening.
Arthur broke the eye contact that they had both been holding with each other, Alfred's gaze and the silence making him feel vulnerable, so he looked back towards the ground.
Alfred simply studied the man before him. He looked vulnerable, nervous… broken. Alfred smirked at the man before him, and Arthur looked up at him in slight surprise, his eyes slightly wider than before. "…You may go now."
Arthur took a moment before speaking once again. "That's it?"
"Yes. But that's okay, I just have to do some research and we'll meet sometime next week."
"When?" Alfred replaced the smirk on his face with a soft friendly smile.
"Whenever you feel would be best. Or whenever you're ready."
Arthur took a moment to study the man in front of him again. Shaking his head of whatever thought he was thinking at that moment, he stood from the chair that he had claimed. "Alright," he said. He walked towards the door that he had passed through earlier, and hesitated at the door with his hand on the knob.
"Arthur?" Alfred questioned.
Arthur gripped the door knob tighter, turning his knuckles a ghostly pale of white. "It's nothing," he replied hesitantly. Arthur then opened the door and walked out, shutting it softly behind him to go home and sleep the rest of the day, leaving Alfred to himself to sit alone in the clear comfortable room.
A/N: Oh dear god, why did I still have this on my computer? I remember how the idea came to, but the story-line, not so much, so from here on out it'll all be IMPROVISED~! /shot