Chapter 16

A/N: Okay, Remember that little "Family Emergency?" Well, it turned into a BIGGER Family emergency so I am SOOOO sorry for not updating. Real Life blows…

Oh, and I found a picture of a girl freakishly accurate to what I imagined Tracy to look like. The pic is on my profile thingy. :)

"Ian!" I yelled frantically, even though he was only about 2 feet away from me.

"What? What?" He ran over to the computer and froze.

"When – how –it –GAH!" I said.

Ian frowned before closing out the video.

Yeah, remember when I said I hated feeling exposed? Yeah. I definitely do now.

"Hey, it's okay." Ian hugged me.

"How is it okay? How did this even get on here?"

He sighed and lay his head down on mine. "I don't know." He kissed my hair. "Paparazzi probably got into the back yard and filmed it."

"WHY?"

He laughed once. "Money."

"Is there any way to take it off?"

"Sadly, no. That's the joy of the internet." He said sarcastically.

I groaned before I buried my face in his chest. "Now I'll even be paranoid when we have sex." I mumbled into his shirt.

He chuckled. "It'll blow over soon. I promise."

Yeah. Whatever.

You really need to have more trust in him.

Shut the hell up.

You should.

Yeah, and look where it's gotten me so far?

…Good point.

Ha.

I jumped when I heard Ian's phone go off. Sighing irately, he pulled it out and I saw it was an alarm he had set. He turned it off and put it in his pocket before fake-smiling at me.

"What…?" I began to back away and he let me, so I knew he did something wrong.

"Time for therapy."

"No!" I yelled, causing him to jump.

"Jess…"

"I said no!" I began to turn away, but he grabbed me. "Let go!"

"Jess! Jess, listen to me." He pulled me against him. "This is why you need help, okay?" His voice was gentle, but it was tinged with fakeness.

I groaned. "Why do you do that?

"What?"

"Be all…fake."

"Fake?"

I got angry. "Yes!"

He frowned. "I'm not sure what you mean."

I sighed irately. "You. Are. Being. Fake."

He smirked. "I'm faking it?"

I rolled my eyes at his pathetic attempt at making me laugh.

He sighed. "Are you saying that I'm…acting?"

"Nooo." I frowned. "You. My mother. Everyone. Why do you have to be fake?"

"What?"

"My mother's fake all the time to me. You are fake when you know there's something wrong with me. My best friend is fake when she laughs with me. The freaking shrink is fake when he tries to get me to help him help me. A lot of people are fake."

"Maybe you should talk to Dr. Bloome about this." He was still using that voice.

Me: (In a voice I did not recognize. From sadness maybe?) "Fuck you."

"Jessica…"

I untangled myself from his arms and started to walk to the door.

"Where are you going?"

"Unless you expect me to drive to this shrink than we are going to the car."

We got to this "Doctor's" office and the receptionist told me to go on in.

"I'll pick you up at noon." Ian kissed my cheek and left.

Left me alone.

I opened the door and walked in. This was a different room than the first I was in (which was only three days ago, mind you.). The first one where he "evaluated me" was like a big conference room and although there were, like, 20 chairs in it, he decided to sit in the one closest to me, armed with a briefcase of tests, a yellow pad to make note of all of my sins and a ballpoint pen. Black ink.

This room had off-white walls, a big brown desk in front of a leather chair. In front of the desk and the chair were one brown couch (For those who are so jacked up that the shrink blames the parents, too.) and two black chairs. I sit down in one of the chairs. It's pretty comfortable; aside from the fact probably 50 crazy people's diseases have seeped into the fabric.

The door opens and shuts, but I don't turn around.

Don'tBreatheDon'tBreatheDon'tMakeAFreakingSound

"Hello, Jessica."

Damn.

"Hi."
Dr. Bloome walks to behind his desk (safe from the crazy people's touch) and sits in his chair. He is a younger guy (well, younger than you might expect.) with short black hair, glasses over dark brown eyes and a short beard.

His first name is Adam.

"How are you doing today?"

Great. I finally start to "love" my force-Fiancée, though God know what the hell that means, there's a video of Ian and I having sex on the internet, I haven't spoken to my mother in a couple of weeks, and now I'm being thrown in here twice a week, even though things seem to be going just fine – yet another example of the "fakeness" around here. "Fine."

"How's Ian?"

Probably doing great now that I've finally confessed these "feelings" and I'm not trying to run from him. Yet. "Fine."

"Anything interesting happen lately?"

Oh, you mean in the last couple of DAYS? No, not at all. "Not really." And shouldn't you be writing all this crap down?

His notebook was absent from the desk.

"I just talked to Ian and-"

"When?" I blurted.

"Right before I came in here. He and I talked about you right before he left."

Then why the hell are you asking me these questions if you just freaking talked to him about them?

Me: Silence

Dr. Bloome: Drones on, an annoying buzz in my brain. "Apparently there's a…video of the two of you."

Me: Still silent. Thinking: WHY THE HELL AREN'T YOU SAYING ANYTHING ABOUT THE FACT THAT I AM 16 AND HE IS 32?

"What are your thoughts?"

I shrugged and my mouth moved on auto-pilot. "I guess it will blow over soon."

Dr. Bloome chuckled and I looked at him. He smiled before saying, "I asked what your thoughts were, not Ian's."

Me: Mouth drops open. WTF?

Dr. Bloome smirks at me. He would kind of be cute if he wasn't a leech ready to try and suck the craziness right out of me.

"Uh…it bugs me."

"Why?"

WHY DO YOU THINK, DUMBASS? Me: Shrugs

"Okay. Tell me about your parents."

"I thought I already did that."

He laughs. "That's true, you did, but you told me their names, phone numbers and that they were divorced, but you never told me anything personal about them."

"Uh…my mom's a bitch and I haven't seen my dad since I was 2." Any more questions?

"Why is your mom a bitch?"

I snorted. "Hasn't Ian already told you all of this?"

He smirked again. "Yes, but I'd rather hear it from you."

"Why?" I blurted. Crap.

"I want to help you."

"So the fakeness begins." SHIT!

"Fakeness? Explain, if you don't mind."

Yes, I mind very freaking much!

Me: Silent

Dr. "Adam:" Silent

…Me: Can't take the silence. "Everyone's being fake."

"Like who?"

Jeez, I can practically see the little wheels spinning in his psychology-brain. Maybe he gets off on this – watching people suffer, needing him to fix them. If he can.

"My mother, for one."

"How?"

"She pretends to be my mother. She fakes caring and happiness."

"Who else?"

WAIT A FREAKING MINUTE! I just answered the other question you asked. WTF? "My best friend."

"How is she or he fake?"

"I haven't seen her in a while, but when I was with her, she pretended like I was normal."

"Who else?"

Don'tSayItYouLoveHimDon'tSayIt! "Ian."

"How is he fake?"

Me: Sighs

Dr. Bloome: Expectant Look

Me: "Every time he gets ready to tell me something he tries to…I don't know…make light of the situation."

"Why is that a bad thing?"

I frowned. "Because it's annoying as hell."

He nodded. "What else do you find annoying about Ian?"

Are you trying to deliberately make me say something bad about him to hurt his feelings? Am I on camera? "He cares too much."

"Too much?"

"He tries to help me. Not, like, fake-help me," Like you, "but actually help me. With everything."

"Everything?"

"My feelings, my mother, my friends, my school, sex, his job, his life-"

"Sex?"

"…yeah…?"

"You have had sex more than once." It wasn't a question.

Me: Blush

Dr. Bloome: Chuckles

"Yes."

"How often?"

Aaaaand we're back to the "getting off" thought, here. Me: Shrugs "A lot."

"Does that bother you?"

I raised an eyebrow. "Why would it bother me?"

"Well," He shifts in his chair, sitting up straighter. "You're young. He's older."

Heh. Old Man-Whore Ass.

Wait, focus.

Right.

"Had you ever had sex before?"

I swear to God, say "sex" one more freaking time, I will stab you. "No."

He nodded, obviously making a mental note of something.

"The only thing that has bothered me if that damn video."

"That's understandable. It's an invasion of privacy."

That's an understatement.

Suddenly it was like my mouth was just spewing out whatever was in my brain, but it was almost like it was a foreign language to me. "And I kind of hate myself for having sex with Ian the first time."

"Why is that?" He frowned.

"I didn't want to."

"Did he…force you?" I could see his wheels turning again.

"No! Of course not." You stupid ass shrink. "I just…did it to make him happy."

"Do you think it worked?"

"No. It did the opposite."

"What do you mean?"

"He was pissed. He told me not to do anything for his benefit." I rolled my eyes.

He nodded. Another mental note was added.

Me: Silent

He looked at his watch. "Well, it's almost time to go. Anything else?"

I shook my head.

"Okay."

He stood and stretched, and then walked to the door and held it open for me. I walked out and the receptionist smiled at me, but it was a fake smile that said, "I pity you, now don't kill me."

Ian was waiting just outside and it took all I had not to squeeze him and cry saying, "Please take me home now!"

"Ready?"

"Yep." Duh.

We began to walk out and Dr. Bloome called to us. "Good session today, Jessica."

I ignored him.

We walked out into the parking lot and I wondered what a "bad session" would be. If someone kicked a hole in his wall before stabbing him with a pen?

I suddenly laughed and Ian looked at me like I was crazy.

At least it wasn't a fake look.

A/N: I know there wasn't a lot of Ian in this one, but I just wanted to kind of show the extent of Jessica's personality and her issues.