27. Coffee With A Side Of Annoyance?

The next few days were interesting. Cindy was still being a jerk, Leo hadn't spoken to her and her mother kept having emotional outbursts and dug deeper into withdrawal as bars kept kicking her out for throwing tantrums when they refused to give her drinks. She lost her air of seductiveness from falling into desperation and no one wanted to deal with her. With no money, she ran out of gas and the car had to be towed back. She was now resulting to locking herself up in her room. Which wasn't bothering Thalia.

It was finally Friday, which would normally be exciting because it was the last day of school, except she had to go visit Dr. Woodrow again. As the last bell rang, kids ran out the doors yelling their plans for the weekend while she had to make her way to the school's psychologist. The door was closed and Thalia had hope that maybe she wasn't in today. She was walking away when someone called her.

"Oh good, you're here," Dr. Woodrow said as she came down the hall. Thalia gritted her teeth. So close. She turned around to see her in a silky blue dress and a little white coat.

"Unfortunately," Thalia commented. Woodrow cleared her throat uncomfortably and walked into her office. Thalia reluctantly followed. She sat down and waited for Woodrow to begin.

"So, how have you been feeling? Since the last time we spoke?" she asked as she finished putting some papers away and directed her attention to Thalia.

"Fine."

"Is that it?" Woodrow prompted.

"Well, what do you want me to say?" Thalia said, shifting her body forward.

"I want you to be honest with me, Thalia."

"And I am."

"No one is always fine," Woodrow protested. Thalia sighed and leaned back.

"I'm not going to lie," Thalia said, though the comment seemed ironic to her. Deep down she knew she wasn't being completely honest, but she didn't have to tell anyone that.

"Really?"

Thalia stayed silent.

"I have something I want you to see," Dr. Woodrow said as she reached downward and pulled up a small silver case. Thalia wasn't sure what she was up to, but she could already tell she didn't like it.

"If it bothers you to see it, you let me know immediately," she cautioned as she opened up the case. With a reassuring nod, she pulled out a small gun.

Thalia found herself leaning further back instinctively, but she forced herself not to move and give herself away. She felt her hands starting to grow sweaty.

"It's okay, it's not loaded."

"I didn't know they'd even let you bring one of those in," Thalia said.

"I got special permission," she said. She set it down on her desk and pushed the case aside. "Let me know if it's bothering you."

"No, why would it?" Thalia lied. She could feel her heartbeat speeding up, but she tried to keep herself calm.

"Agent Rudder, the nice cop that visited your classroom, had originally been in the military. Many of his friends have suffered from PTSD. Do you know what that is?"

"Post Traumatic Stress Disorder," Thalia said. "Just guessing," she added as Woodrow looked at her curiously. Thalia had to admit, though, the thought had crossed her mind; she just didn't want to believe it.

"You're right," she said.

"And what does that have to do with me?"

"Your reaction to guns indicates there's a possibility you may be suffering from PTSD," Woodrow explained. Thalia swallowed.

"What reaction?"

"Thalia, you underestimate me. As soon as I pulled out this gun, which is in fact just a toy, you pulled back and your fingers curled around the armrest," she said, looking at Thalia's hands. When she realized it was true, she let go of the seat, feeling stupid.

"I've had lots of practice reading body language," Woodrow continued as she put the gun away. "Now, I want to know what kind of experience you had with guns that would make you react this way," she finished. There was no way Thalia would ever tell Woodrow. Absolutely none.

"Well, you'll stay without knowing then," Thalia said.

"Thalia –"

"I'm sorry Dr. Woodrow," Thalia said standing up. "But I have no intention of telling you anything about my life," she said, as she left the office. The fact she may have PTSD was like a smack in the face. She shook her head as she walked out of the school. It couldn't be possible. She didn't want it to be. She walked back to her apartment, her music blasting through her headphones.

It wasn't fair. She was still suffering because of her mother. When was it going to stop? When will her mother's screw-ups stop affecting her? She sighed in frustration. And who did Dr. Woodrow think she was anyways? Not only was she upset she had to deal with Woodrow at all, but that Woodrow had seen so clearly through her façade. It was none of her business anyways.

She tried to keep herself together until she could get to her room. Then she could throw things to her heart's content. She walked into her apartment, expecting to find it empty, like always, but her mother was sitting on the couch with a Pepsi can in hand. You'd think it was a miracle, but Thalia felt the barest trace of happiness to see coke instead of beer. She dropped her bag next to the door and walked over to her.

"Mom," she said. Her mother glanced at her, but quickly looked away.

"What?" she answered, an angry edge to her voice.

"It's the end of the week. Did you sign up at a group for alcoholics?" Thalia asked, as she sat down on the edge of the couch.

"No."

"Why not?"

"Because I'm not –"

"Not what?" Thalia interrupted. "Not an alcoholic?"

"I – No –"

"Then what do you call it?" Her mother stayed silent. Thalia stood up.

"Just sign up," she said as she turned and left. She knew her mother was probably not going to do it, so maybe Sunday she would look for a group and sign her up herself.

She sighed. Annoyed by the events of the day, she quickly finished her homework, took a warm shower and went to bed. Thankfully, she didn't have any nightmares.

The next morning, she woke up without an alarm and stretched so much she could feel every joint cracking.

"That feels good," she sighed contentedly. She crawled out of bed, getting chills up her back as her feet touched the cold floor and set up the coffee maker. She walked into the bathroom and brushed her teeth and her hair, taking her time. She hummed as she walked into the kitchen and started pulling out eggs to cook.

She left the pan on the stove, served a cup a coffee and sat at the island. She took a sip when she remembered it was Saturday. Her eyes opened wide.

"Oh my god," she said, as she lowered her cup of coffee. She made a small whimpering sound. "I have a date with Percy tonight."