Dr. Ramer looked at me, analyzed me before talking once again. " We are going to three big rules in here alright and the main rule is that 'fine' isn't an answer and won't be used. If you don't wish to talk about your feelings than say that you want to change the topic unless it is crucial we talk about it at that moment. The second rule would be, violent isn't an answer. Lastly, you call me Diane. Understand?"

I just shrugged before turning my attention to my shoes. "Yeah, I guess." I didn't want to be here talking to some stranger, I wanted to be hanging out with Sco- no we are fighting, I almost forgot.

"Genim do you want to talk about it?" She asked. Damn' her for being so damn' aware of everything. Some anger quickly ignited within me.

"No and it's Stiles, no one's allowed to call me that." I snapped, only Mom and Dad were allowed to call me that, Mom when she was alive and Dad because he just did it when he was worried or mad.

The therapist looked at me with worried causing me to become slightly annoyed. "Stiles, do you want to talk about what bothered you just a minute ago ?" She asked again, more carefully this time.

She wasn't going to give up so I decided to talk, I mean Dad was paying her enough. "Not really, just got into a fight with my best friend. It's stupid, we'll get over it soon enough."

She smiled at me again. "Tell me about him."

"Who?" I asked puzzled, she surely wouldn't care about Scott.

"Your best friend." She smiled, she was getting information out of me.

Looking back down at my shoes, I mumbled back at her. "His name's Scott, we met in the sandbox in kindergarten. He stupid, oblivious but can be so selfish because of Allison but we're brothers in everything but blood."

The therapist looked at me before tossing me something. Catching it I looked in my hands, it was a leather bound journal. Looking at it in my hands, it looked out of place. I didn't write. "Your assignment for Thursday is to write one entry in this journal and we'll talk about it next session. I don't care what you write about as long as it pertains to you. It can bother you, make you laugh, it can be about anything that pertains to you. Now we're done with our first session, have fun." She stated smiling.

Grumbling to myself, I got up and left the room to find Dad in the waiting room with a hopeful smile on his face. Walking past him, I headed to the cruiser. I hated being analyzed, I usually did the analyzing. Getting into the car, I turned on the radio in order to avoid Dad, knowing he'd want to talk about how it went. We drove a ways, enjoying a song or two until Dad just shut off the radio.

"Stiles, she wasn't that bad was she?" He asked, in more of a sarcastic tone but I heard the underlying worry underneath it. I just shrugged before turning my attention back to my phone. "Stiles use words."

"I guess she was alright but she kept poking and prodding, it annoyed me." I answered hoping that would satisfy him for the time being but it didn't.

Dad looked at the journal resting in my hands before he began to talk once again. "Stiles I worry about you so much and just please try this for at least one more session then I'll let you be if she's done nothing for you, okay?"

I nodded.

The rest of the ride home was silent and boring as was everything until the night after my first therapy session. Sitting down with Dad at the table, we sat with hamburgers and curly fries. I just picked at my food, like I had done for the past few days but Dad was getting aggravated by something and I was going to find out. As I went to grab a can of Coke, I saw a small unfamiliar binder with paper sticking out of it with numbers and such on it.

Pulling out the said piece of paper, I noticed some things written down about me.

Not eating like before

Prefers being alone

Doesn't talk half as much as he used to

Nightmares every time sleeps

Talks about Claudia in his sleep before yelling/waking up

Angrily, I walked back to the table and threw the paper at Dad. " I can't believe you! You're analyzing me like Ramer was and you know I hated that. I'm not going back tomorrow, I won't have the both of you against me and I'm going back to school. I don't care what the doctor says, I'm not being controlled any longer!"

Then I did what no one expected, I started to cry before sliding down the wall. I was giving up on all of it. I hated the fact that I had no control any more. I hated the fact that I didn't sleep, couldn't sleep without having a nightmare. I was useless.

As Dad came closer to me, I pushed him away not wanting to be touched or even talked to. "Stiles, calm down. You have to calm down before you get another panic attack. Breathe." I managed to calm my breathing even though I continued to cry.

I didn't let Dad try to talk to me anymore, I ran up to my room at top speed, locking my bedroom door behind me.