Disclaimer: Inception does not belong to me. All readers and reviews appreciated, thank you!
"Arthur? Good to meet you. Have a seat."
Arthur settled himself into a chair, and swallowed. In front of him was a man in his late thirties, floppy dark hair falling over his face, which was partially concealed by wire framed glasses. He was dressed casually in a t shirt and jeans.
"I'm Sam," he said, kindly, "and I'm not a psychologist, a psychiatrist, or any other kind of ist. I'm a youth counsellor, and Dr Saito asked me to talk to you. Of course, that all depends on whether there's anything you want to talk to me about."
Arthur shifted in his seat.
"I've been looking in your file," Sam continued, reaching over a pulling a cardboard covered folder off his desk. "It makes for very interesting reading."
"Does it?"
Sam pushed his glasses up the bridge od his nose. "Yes, it does. It states that you were a model student – getting straight A's, tipped for a good college, a good soccer player. Then, suddenly, you start getting into fights – you were suspended twice in the fall, am I right."
"Yes," Arthur admitted. He felt uncomfortable.
"What happened, Arthur?" Sam's tone was kind – he clearly felt this was a conversation, rather than an interrogation.
"I lost it."
"Do you often 'lose it'?" Sam's look was searching.
"No."
"Then what happened?"
Arthur swallowed. He could smell peppermint – a half open pack of gum was lying on the counsellor's desk. Suddenly, he was there. Her breath had been laced with peppermint. She'd just come out of the girls' locker room, and was smiling at him, shyly. He'd reciprocated, letting her stroke his arm. Then he'd come up, ugly, leering, and then there had been a bang of metal-
He shifted again. "I don't want to talk about it."
Sam nodded. "OK. I respect that, Arthur. But I would like to ask you about something else."
He shrugged. "Sure."
The counsellor leaned forward. "Do you ever hurt yourself?"
Arthur looked at the floor, then at Sam. "Why?"
"Because your file states that you seem to be very unhappy, with aggressive reactions. But I'm trying to find out how this aggression displays itself. Have you ever lashed out at someone, only to feel guilty about it? Or wanted to hit someone, only to go and hurt yourself instead?"
The teenager shifted. "Once."
Sam looked interested. "When did it happen, Arthur?"
He looked at the floor. It had been in the early hours, after a party. He'd been invited, but suspected it was only due to his being the friend of someone else. He'd stood in the corner for a large part of the evening.
Then she'd approached him. He'd felt his heart start to race. Then suddenly, he'd been pushed aside, with a whispered comment that had made his blood boil. He'd decided to leave, only to find that as he was trying to get out of the door, a hand came down on his shoulder.
"There's no place for your kind here," the voice breathed.
Arthur froze. "My kind?"
"Faggots", the voice sneered. "We all know the truth about you...and that its all a front."
Arthur had walked, hurt and confusion raging inside. He'd got home, and barely acknowledged his parents, who were sitting in the lounge. Going upstairs, he headed for the bathroom.
His older sister had gone to college. But she'd left several of her beauty products behind. Pulling open the bathroom cabinet, he'd found a discarded nail file, and some scissors.
"Then what happened?"
Arthur swallowed. "I took them into my room."
He'd unbuckled his jeans, letting them slide down to his knees. Taking the file in one hand, he'd stabbed it as hard as he could into his inner thigh. He'd shivered and gasped at the pain, then watched as a trickle of blood ran down the smooth flesh.
Suddenly, the door handle started to turn. "Arthur, sweetheart, are you-" his mother opened the door and walked in, her breath catching as she saw her son.
Arthur hastily put down the nail file, and reached for his jeans. "Mom, I didn't-"
"Oh, Arthur," she whispered, her hand rising to her throat. "What are you doing?"
Arthur wandered back into the day room. Cobb was playing Connect 4 with Yusuf; Ariadne was sitting by herself. Robert and Eames were nowhere to be seen.
Ariadne got up, and walked over to him. "Hi," she said, uncertainly.
"Hey," he responded.
"Did you have – a good session?" He noticed the blush spreading across her face.
"It was ok." He looked at his hands.
She sat down next to him, and turned to him.
"I wanted to say thank you," she began, her voice faltering slightly.
"For what?" Arthur felt confused.
"For...standing up for me the other day. When Eames was..."
"Eames is just an asshole." Arthur's voice carried a ring of authority. "You shouldn't let him get to you."
She blushed. "I know I shouldn't but-"
"You need to stop this." Arthur blinked. The words had sounded harsh, grating.
"Stop what?" Ariadne asked, uncertainly.
"Stop looking for approval from people." Arthur kept his gaze focused on the floor. "Stop looking to others to protect you. Why are you always coming to me? I'm just as messed up as you are! Why do you think I'm in here?"
"Arthur," Ariadne tried to keep her voice calm, "I didn't mean to upset you, but-"
"But- what? Do you think this is some kind of place to-" he shook his head. "Ariadne, I think you're very sweet, but I'm only sticking up for you in the way I would for any other girl whose being bullied. But learn to stand up for yourself more. Please."
He got up, feeling ashamed and disgusted with himself. He hurried out of the room, leaving Ariadne staring after him. Once he got to his own room, he began to cry.