What am I doing here? It's not like this therapy thing is helping. I'm still me, and no one likes me. What was Father thinking? No, it's not him, it's her… that bitch. She's trying to take him away from me, like she did my mother.
"Ms. Arakawa?"
Why am I even listening to my father anyway? I'm 23... an adult. Not to mention that I have a job and a... life? No, I'm all alone. No one loves me.
"Ms. Arakawa?"
Maybe I do need therapy? Maybe not. It doesn't matter. I'm not crazy, right? Of course not. I'm sane, just a tad bit lonely, that's all. It means nothing. I don't need therapy.
"Ms. Arakawa?!!"
"Mmm??"
I snapped from my thoughts and lift my head. My eyes met a stern gaze, belonging to Haruka, my therapist. She's a beautiful woman, professional and... cute. No! Stop it, I'm doing it again. I'm falling for another one.
"What?"
I asked.
She gave me that creepy therapist look that saw through all the bullshit. I don't like that. I don't like being analyzed like that. I'm not a creep. She never said I was one. What's wrong with me? What's wrong with them?
Why not love me? Hate me, please... anything, just don't ignore me. Reject me. I'm still human. I bleed, I hurt, I... drown. Shut up, you're too loud.
'Not loud, just truthful.'
Stop that, I'm not listening. Haruka told me not to listen. All these negative thoughts are not me. Go away. Why aren't you going away? Therapy is bullshit. I'm not getting any better. Why won't I get better?
"Ms. Arakawa, you're doing it again. Please talk to me."
Her voice is sweet, pleasant... good. I love it. Be mine already. Should I confess? No, that would be creepy. Would it be though? Of course it would. Either way, it doesn't matter. She'll reject me.
What is she doing? Writing something... but I didn't say anything. It's a trick. It's not. What do you know...? Wait, why am I talking to myself? I paid to talk to someone.
'Dad paid.'
Same thing. Now shut it.
I cleared my throat and tried a smile. Her eyes flickered. She doesn't like that. I should stop.
"Sorry... um... ahem... the weather, huh?"
She let out a small exhale, making her chest heave up slightly. She's blessed. Those are one of the two biggest chest mountains I have ever seen. I'm jealous. Being an A-cup is probably why I'm ignored.
"Ms. Arakawa, do you want to end the session?"
I shook my head. Why would I do that? I need help. Not really. I'm fine. But I do need a friend. I should tell her that. No, it's not how it works. She might refer me to another doctor. Like the last one.
It's best to keep quiet.
"Then why won't you talk to me? Tell me what's bothering you, I want to help."
That almost made me chuckle. Help? Please... you're doing this because I paid you. If not, you wouldn't have bothered to look at me, not even once.
I looked into her grey-steel eyes and asked something I had been curious about this whole time.
"Ms. Therapist, um... do you think I'm ugly?"
Her eyes flickered again. What's she thinking? I can't read her.
"That would be inappropriate to answer,"
she says, making me become dejected. At least now I know the truth.
"Thanks for replying. Now I understand why I'm lonely."
Her eyes slightly narrowed as she adjusted her skirt. Why is it so short? Does she dress to impress, or is she a little slut? No, she's a good person. Maybe there's a reasonable explanation why she dresses like this.
The reason is me. She wants to impress me. If so, color me impressed.
"Ms. Arakawa, do you believe everyone rejects you because of your preconceived notion that you're ugly?"
Twisting my words, aren't we? Not bad. But I'm not gonna fall for that. I've had practice with thirteen other therapists. I'm fine. I'm not sick, delusional, or avoiding how I truly feel about anything.
"I never said I was rejected."
"You implied it."
"No, I have not."
"Yes, you did."
"I said no! I'm not crazy?"
She smoothed her dress again, parting her legs a little.
"I never said you were crazy... why do you think you're crazy, Ms. Arakawa?"
I clenched my hands into tight fists. This whore just called me crazy. I'm not falling for your tricks again. Parting your toned legs won't make me tell you anything.
I didn't answer, and the therapist didn't say anything.
We both said nothing, and silence stretched between us until our session ended.
She stood up proudly, towering over me with her tall stature.
"Our time is up. I think we have made some progress... at least now you're talking to me."
She smiled as I also stood up. Still tall.
She stretched her open palm to me, and I hesitantly took it. Her hand was soft, smaller than I thought.
Her smile was warm, bright—unlike when we are in a session. This is proof... she's in love with me. And I, her.
"Um... Ms. Therapist? Do you maybe wanna go grab a drink... I mean, I know it's your break time before your next session... so what do you say..."
W-why are you looking at me like that? Why are you suddenly scared? She retreated back and I followed step by step until she fell on her chair.
"What's wrong, Haruka? Do you have a fever or something?"
"H-how do you know I have a session after a break? That's not something patients should know about."
"Oh... I understand now. Hehe, there's no need to exaggerate like that, Haruka. I know all your schedules like the back of my hand, because we're in love with one another. I should know everything about you.
Although your husband is a problem that's getting between our love, nothing a little hitman can't handle. My father is rich and has nefarious contacts, so don't worry. I'll make sure you're safe."
She had a horrified expression. I can't say I blame her. Even though he is a bad man getting between our love, it's still her husband. But it doesn't matter. Soon she'll forget all about him.
And will love me. Only me... forever.