Michael's leg bounced up and down, ignoring the weird looks people were giving him. Michael was to zoned out to care anyways. He was freaking out, really. It had been about three days since Michael's mom had found out about the scars on his arms, and his mother had forced him to stay at home and tell her everything. Of course, she didn't know anything about the SQUIPS. All she knew was Jeremy got popular and suddenly Michael was alone. He regretted telling her most everything though. When she heard what he truly thought about his body, she freaked out. He couldn't count how many times she had apologized. He couldn't count how many times he had told her it's not her fault they didn't have enough money. She didn't listen though. Then she demanded that he needed to see a therapist about all of this, because she wanted to be able to help him next time something like this happens. He didn't want to tell her no, so here he was. In a six story building, sitting in a waiting room, and waiting to tell a complete stranger all of his deep and emotional thoughts. Not that that was going to ever happen. His SQUIP had barely said anything to him since that night, but he knew it was going to act up today. He could almost hear the damn thing just grinning in his mind.

"Michel." Said boy snapped out of his thoughts when he heard his mom say his name. Her hand was over his knee, which had started to bounce a bit more violently. She tapped his knee, and he stopped moving it.

"Sorry," he mumbled. Other people were starring now, and he suddenly felt like he was in one of those nightmares where you end up naked in public. He blushed out of embarrassment and looked down, not wanting to look at his mom.

"It's okay, honey." Alice smiled at him, and wrapped him into a half hug. "I know you're anxious and everything, I just thought you might not appreciate everyone starring at you." He nodded, deciding not to reply. Things felt kind of tensed since he had told her how he felt, and Michael was just avoiding it. It was easier.

'You won't be able to do that forever, Michelle.' Michael wanted to punch this damn thing.

'It's MICHAEL,' he thought back. 'And yes I can. It's worked for years. Now, where the Hell have you been?'

'Well, Michelle-'

'MICHAEL.'

'Fine, Michael. I've been just simply watching all that you do. I have formulated a plan of how to go on from here.'

'If you think I'm going to follow your every word after what you made me say-'

'You said most of that on your own. Don't try to lie to me or to yourself Michael. You know the truth.'

'No I-'

"Michael Mell?" Michael's head shot up as one of the women- nurses? receptionists?- called his name. He stood up, and waited for his mom to join him. When she didn't he looked back and gave her a questioning look.

"I have some other business, okay honey? Just tell him what you told me and it'll be okay." Michael nodded, unsure. He didn't really want to be alone in there. But he went anyways. Alice had been really supportive about this, and Michael didn't want to let her down. He followed the helper lady into a nice, polished room. It was very homely feeling, and had two not very comfortable looking chairs facing each other. There wasn't even a desk. And all the overly optimistic posters sickened Michael. Yes, we've all heard the hanging in there message. Does this guy really need a poster for it? Michael sat down in one of the chairs, trying to get comfy. At least he got to wear his regular hoodie and jeans for the first time in what felt like years.

"Hello Michael. I'm Dr. Coaten." Michael looked towards the doorway towards who he guessed was the therapist. Honestly, the guy didn't look so bad. He was probably a little older than Michael's own mom, and his hair was just starting to gray. Michael concluded this guy was going to make an awesome sugar daddy to some gold digging twenty year old some day.

"I would tell you my name, but it seems as if you already know it," Michael replied, not caring if he sounded rude. He thought the man was going to roll his eyes or something, but he just chuckled.

"Your mother warned me about that sharp tongue of yours," he informed Michael. The doctor sat across from Michael in the other leather chair, and smiled kindly at Michael. The younger boy didn't return the favor. Michael closed his eyes for a moment, and when he opened his eyes again there was his SQUIP, standing right behind the seated therapist. He gave Michael a malicious smirk, and the boy suddenly felt queasy. Dr. Coaten didn't seem to notice Michael's uncomfortable look, though. Or maybe he just took it as nerves. Either way, he didn't mention it. "So, Michael. Do you know why you're here?" Michael was about to answer when he felt his body seize up. He relaxed after a second, but then realized that he wasn't in control. He tried to yell out, but his SQUIP was in control now.

"Because my mom couldn't handle this all by herself," the SQUIP forced out of Michael's mouth. The doctor raised an eyebrow at that.

"And why do you think that, Michael?"

'No. This is my thing. You can tell me what to say, but you won't make me say it.'

'Fine.'

"Well, she didn't take this whole thing very well, did she? She sort of freaked," Michael said, almost choking on the words as they tumbled out. His SQUIP wasn't even trying to stop him now. He heard the thing whisper ideas into the back of his mind, and he tried to focus on it and the older man at the same time. It kind of ended up sounding like this.

"I think you-"

'-tell him about the scars-'

"-because you two haven't been-"

'-maybe he can actually prescribe you something better then your weed-'

"-and I think maybe you two should talk about your problems in a-"

'-should probably listen to what he's-'

"-where you can safely discuss how-"

'want to miss anything important that-'

"-do you feel today, Mr. Mell?"

Michael's head was spinning, and he wasn't sure how to respond to either of the things in the room. He froze in the chair, and broke out into a cold sweat. He glanced down at his nails, trying to keep his mind straight. Or, well, on the task. Michael's mind couldn't be straight. He dug his nails into his palms to try and help his mind focus on the task at hand. He also made a mental note to repaint the chipping nails later.

"Could you please repeat the question, sir?" Michael asked, voice lighter than air. The doctor noticed what the younger boys hands were doing, but he didn't say anything yet.

"Of course. I asked how you were feeling today, Michael." The guy crossed one leg over the other, leaned back, and watched the boy closely. He noted that Michael seemed very stressed at the moment, and deduced from just that Michael had a severe case of anxiety. He could be wrong, but that was rarely the case. Even this early on in a session.

"I'm doing great," Michael replied, lying his pants off. His SQUIP rolled it's eyes, and he could tell Mr. Coaten knew he was lying. But the older man didn't say anything.

"Alright. Well, if you're okay with it, I would like to see you're scars." Michael nodded, and began rolling up his sleeves.

'Woah, woah, woah. What are you doing Michael? You're showing off you're scars to someone you don't even know?'

'Well, he already knows.'

'No, those are you're disgusting impurities that you keep to yourself.'

Michael didn't even had the energy to fight, so he just rolled down the bit of the sleeve he had started to pull up and apologized for not wanting to show it. The doctor nodded in an understanding way and said it was okay.

"So, Mr. Mell, I hear that a huge dance is happening at your school soon. Are you going?"

"I'm a gay trans boy. I don't think I'm really welcome there."

"Welcome where? The school? They can't reject you for you sexual orientation." Michael laughed. Not in their little corner of Hell. No, this place just decided to change it's rules every other week. And people here always judged you if you were any part of the LGBT community. But this guy couldn't understand that, no matter how hard her tried. The rest of the fifteen minutes were used up by Dr. Coaten trying to get Michael to open up, and Michael just sinking more and more into the cusions.

'See. If you had let me keep control, this would not have happened. You would have been able to get through this easily."

'Oh shut it, you stupid tic tac.'

Michael flinched slightly as he felt a sharp jolt go through him. And he regretted absolutely nothing.

It's over 1,500 words, so you all better be happy! I'm so tired now. And I want to heat what you guys think of my writing! Please lease comments or questions! I love both!