15. Anger Mis-Management
15
ANGER MIS-MANAGEMENT
Hayden
So Dana, my therapist, she’s cute enough, but cold as ice. Like she can’t react to anything I say with any judgment. But I know she’s judging me. The first thing I learned was that jokes don’t go down well with that one. She just stares at me until I stop grinning and waiting for a response, and then says something like, “Let’s get serious.”
To be clear, I hate these sessions, but I don’t really have a choice. My court-appointed therapy started after that incident last year. Cue a massive eye-roll. I mean, it was a fight at a hockey game, as in my actual job! The whole thing was ridiculous.
Okay. So, sure, I wasn’t actually playing because of a hamstring strain, but I’m still gonna stick up for my teammates. Throw in the fact that he called me “Bellraiser” in the tunnel, and that explains why he got his head punched in. Long story short, but I got called out for assault, and now every week in the off-season I had to sit in the smallest, most goddamn uncomfortable, chair you’ve ever seen in your life and talk about feelings and stuff for an hour.
My only saving grace had been that the judge was a hockey fan and agreed it could only happen in the off-season, seeing as we were out on the road for half the rest of the year. Really messed up my summer plans, though.
“Hayden,” Dana said, adjusting her dress. I’d seen this before. She probably fancied some of the bad boy in the seat across from her. “Do you think you’re protecting Maiden from these women? Or are you really protecting yourself?”
I scoffed at the nerve of it.
“From what? Sniffing out every chance to fill their bank balance? Or making me feel like hell when all I want is to give my kid a life that isn’t full of sheep… I mean, shit !”
“From getting hurt, Hayden. Your father was violent, your mother left you, Cara left you. You’re hiding from love because you think it can only hurt you if you let it in.”
My face turned crimson. I was not used to being talked to like this, and it was absolutely not what I wanted to hear. Who was she to be saying these things about my life? How could she ever possibly understand what it’s like to be me ?
“Even your work persona, the Hellraiser . It’s a defense mechanism to push people away so you don’t get hurt. You’re pretending to be something big and scary, but even monsters need love, Hayden. It’s what makes them become something more.”
“Look, I need to be strong for Maiden!”
“I think you need to show him what real strength is Hayden. To be able to let people in to see your vulnerable side and take those risks, despite the fear.”
I was furious now with this ridiculous second-hand parenting. Taking risks? Having fear! ?
“You don’t know anything about us!”
“Okay. Perhaps we can talk about something else.”
“Yeah, I think we’re done talking, doctor !”
I was spitting blood. Hopefully, she took my derogatory way of saying doctor as it was meant. She wasn’t a real doctor, not one that mattered, one that actually saved people’s lives. She’d also gone well over the line. Just another rich Daddy’s daughter who had it easy her whole life. She didn’t know what it was really like to grow up in that house, to be scared of going home after school, to try and sit still in class with bruises all over your ass because Daddy had one too many drinks, and you had to put yourself in the way, because it was either you or mom. I was still seething with anger and shame when I pulled open the door and stormed out of her office.
“Fuck!” I yelled as I hammered a fist down on the bonnet of a white Ford pickup outside the reception. The car alarm jumped into life and I yelled “Fuck!” again as I felt the pain reverberate in my fist.
I was so blinded with rage, all I saw was a blur of some small annoying man running outside in a bad suit and thick black glasses, talking to me like I was an idiot.
“Hey! That’s my car!”
“So what! Fuck off!”
I started to walk away. I just wanted to go to a dark bar and sip on cold beers until the throbbing in my fist didn’t hurt so bad.
“Hey! I’ll call the cops, you animal!” He yelled after me.
I felt the red mist descend. Like it was game night and the mouthy forward who’d been winding me up all game had finally overstepped the mark. It was what I was trained for, it’s what I did .
I turned, growling, and walked toward him. Things might have gone differently had he turned and run away, but the idiot just stood there as I got closer. My fist didn’t hurt anymore as I put it square into his face. Nothing hurt anymore. I was the Hellraiser .