"Troy, will you focus?" I heard the soft firm voice of my therapist, lying on my back on the warm leather couch, my eyes taking notice of the clock behind my head. Five more minutes of this miserable overcharging bitch. I sighed, facing her lazily as she said something that had went right over my head. I had dismissed any "helpful" advice from her ever since I started coming here to please my father. Two years ago he married Viviane Evans. A gold digging floozy from the upper ring of New York. I smiled at her, charmingly I stood up. Her speech cut short as she tried to set me back down.

"I'm cured, Dr. Mckessie, don't you see? Haven't you noticed my patterns? I don't talk about degrading women anymore, nor do I speak of sex, or any form of sex. I'm cured." She rolled her eyes, dismissing my bullshit lies with a flick of her hand.

"One is not cured within an hour session; one is in the healing process each time they come in here. Each time they leave, they are bombarded by the same feelings, for you it's beautiful conquests and pleasure, your lust and desires are taking over you Troy. Your mind if fogged with a fantasy world where every woman, is a toy, a source of pleasure, an outlet for your father's marriage to your new step mother." I tensed, she saw it.

"But I've been here two years-" I stated.

"As I said before, Troy, if you were 'cured' as you put it, you wouldn't tense up at the mention of your father's new marriage to this woman. What is so bad about her? What makes you tick?" A questioning glance fell to me. I sat down, pondering what her looks could mean.

"The fact that some tramp is stealing my father away from me is aggravating enough. But it isn't her. Oh no, it definitely is not her. It's her daughter. That smug, self-centered, arrogant, little bitch. Sharpay fucking Evans." My hands shook as I lost track of my thoughts, my filter, and my lies, everything,

"She's someone, who schemes everyone to back bend to her every wish, every fucking command." Dr. Mckessie had this half smile at the mention of Sharpay.

"She's just like you, isn't she?" her voice was light, as if she was nervous of bringing her up.

"Look, Sharpay may be a conniving fucking tart but she'll NEVER be like me."

"And how are you, Troy?" she asked, her hands collapsed politely as her fingers grazed her wedding band

"I'm every girl's fantasy. I'll give them what they want." My smug demeanor took over once again.

"What do they want?" she quipped, leaning close to me. I stayed quiet, rethinking my original answer. I had to get out of here, for good this time.

"A loving devoted man. Who listens, respects, and values them through all of life's misfortunes." I smiled at her, as laughter bubbled in my throat as she nodded, smiling.

"You think you can fool me that easy, Troy Bolton? You, a recovering 'sex fiend' who degrades women, has mommy issues, and has so must lustful tension with his stepsister?" My eyes snapped up at her blunt choice of wording.

"Mommy issues?" I began, "Tension with Sharpay? Pardon my French, Dr. But are you FUCKING INSANE?" I lashed a bit, she didn't even flinch.

"It's my job to read you, Troy. I call what I see, in this profession, you take risks, say things, and speak your mind, no matter who it hurts." She said no remorse in her words. I sat there, anger caught me in its grip, and it wasn't leaving.

"I don't have tension with Sharpay." My voice crumbled, as all restraint released.

"Oh really? So, what is Sharpay to you, just you, not to other people."

"A little bratty slut." Her smirk returned to her lips, as a 'hmm' took her thoughts "Go on." She urged.

"She's worked me until I did what she told me too."

"She took control?" she finished.

"Yes."

"Is control your thing?" she questioned.

"Damn right." She nodded, writing something down on her notepad.

"Continue if you please, Troy."

"She always asks my dad for money for shopping with her ridiculous friends, if he says no, she stomps up to her room, and slams the door, it's almost like she's twelve."

"Why does that annoy you Troy?" her voice was monotonous, annoying, the hairs on the back of my neck stood up.

"She's fucking seventeen. Then she acts all sweet and innocent, walking down the steps after dads has a few drinks in him, rubs his back, and coos in his ear what an amazing father he is. He melts." I muttered disgusted.

"So she plays him." She said almost too sarcastic for my taste.

"Everyone." I retorted, I could almost snort at how foolish everyone is around her.

"Your words not mine, I haven't met her personally so I am unable to judge. So, if you could, would you control her?" I hadn't caught the double meaning of her words until my response.

"I'd control that little whore until she knew she was mine." Her eyebrows rose in surprise, my eyes flickered to sapphire.

"What do you mean yours?" she asked quietly.

"My whore. My slave, My toy."

"I thought you said you weren't sexually attracted." She said, smugly looking at me. I almost laughed.

"Well, control to me, is sex. So, if you're talking control. We hit sex."

"What would you do?" she quipped.

"I'm not paying you to know my sexual desires or how I'd please a woman."

"I never said you were. It's just curing you quicker." That phrase got to me. I could sense her sarcasm.

"Rough, hard, sadistic, fucking. She'd scream my name, and I'd come in her little manipulating mouth, her body would be scratched up and torn from my nails dug into her skin, she'd know her place with me, I'd make sure of it. Does that get you wet Dr. Mckessie?" I asked her lustfully, she had no emotion in her eyes as answered me.

"Troy, I want you to record your feelings in a journal for me. No matter if you are released for me or not. I want your feelings on paper. Hide it, and just write your lust, pain, anger, laughs, anything."

"How queer of you to assign me something so pointless." I dismissed.

"Troy. The thoughts you have are so strong, so unchanging, I'm not asking for change, I'm asking for a new way to cope. Try it, for a week, If you don't like it, I won't bring up Sharpay or your step mother again." I caught her gaze. She was serious.

"Fine. One week. If I don't like it, dismiss me." I flicked my wrist.

"No deal. You're going to say you hate it just to leave." She finished with finality.

"One week, if I genuinely do not see any point of this and you see no change in me, may I leave?" she nodded mutely.

"Are we done?" I asked her. She glanced behind her to the clock on the wall. Almost a half hour extra time.

"Yes Troy. No charge for the session. Please try for me. I can promise it'll help." Her voice was sweet as honey, I rolled my eyes simply at her false attitude.

"Fine, whatever gets you off my fucking back." I exited her room, walking towards the corridor, I heard her call

"I'll see you next week Troy. Please give everything a chance, I promise, you will be changed." I rolled my eyes and walked out. I hated her. Most of all, I hated how she was right…

I should listen to her, honestly, she seems to know me inside and out, but I will never give in. I'm not as weak as she seems to believe I am.

I'll show her. She will never break down Troy Alexander Bolton.