Chapter 25
Chapter Twenty-Five
Ares followed me home after school so I could drop my car off. I’ve been trying to get him to tell me where he’s taking me all day. He hasn’t given up a single clue. Now, I’m sitting in his car outside a medical centre.
“What are we doing here?” I ask him. “Are you sick? Oh god, are you dying?”
“Why does your brain automatically go to me dying?”
“Because that’s the worst thing that could happen to me right now,” I admit.
“Good to know. But no, I’m fine. I made an appointment. For you,” he says, watching me closely.
“You made a doctor’s appointment for me? Why?”
“I made an appointment for Katie Hughes, your alias for when we come here.” Ares hands me three cards. A driver’s licence with my face and someone else’s name on it, and a bank card and a Medicare card that match. “No one will know it’s you coming here.”
I look at the building. All the sign says is Hunter Medical. That’s it. There’s no other description telling me what kind of doctors work inside there. “Why? Why do you want me to see a doctor, Ares?”
“It’s an appointment with a psychologist. I want you to get help, Zara. I want you to be able to talk to someone,” he says.
“I don’t need help. I have you. You said you’d help me.” I shake my head. He brought me to a fucking psychologist. He thinks I’m so far gone that I need medical help. What’s next? Is he going to try to have me admitted to a mental health ward somewhere?
“You do have me. This is me helping you, Zara. I’m not going to just sit back and do nothing when I can see that you need professional help. You can hate me, as long as you get out of the car and walk in there with me. You can save the yelling and hating me for after the appointment.”
“I can’t go in there,” I say. “What if they call my parents?”
“They don’t know who you are, and you’re old enough that they don’t have to notify your parents, Zara.”
“They’re going to figure out I’m beyond help, Ares. Just take me home. I won’t bother you anymore with my problems. I’m working through them on my own. I don’t need a doctor to help me do that,” I insist.
“Please. I will beg if I have to, P. Just go in, do the first appointment, and if you don’t like the doctor, we can try another one until we find one you like. If not for you, do it for me. I need you to do this.”
I hate that I’ve done this to him. Put that concern in his voice. He’s seen how low I can get because I couldn’t hide it from him, and now he thinks I’m so broken I need professional help.
“I’m sorry I’m so broken,” I tell him aloud.
Ares grips my chin, forcing my face upwards until my eyes meet his.
“You are not broken, Zara. You are the most beautiful, perfect creature I’ve ever seen.
This isn’t me telling you that you need fixing.
This is me trying to help in any way I can, because I’m scared if I don’t, I’m going to lose you.
I only just wore you down enough to pay me attention.
I’m not going to let you slip through my fingers now. ”
“I’m better. I promise. That night in the car, it was a lapse. It won’t happen again.”
“Good, but how about we just see how it goes? I’ll be right there with you. Unless you don’t want me to be.”
I consider what he’s asking of me. It’s not really fair for me to put all of my issues on him alone.
We’re still in high school. This should be his year of letting go and having fun before having to go to university and taking on more responsibilities.
And here I am, holding him back from all of that. Being a burden.
“I hate that you have to do this for me.”
“It’s what boyfriends are for.” He shrugs.
“I thought they were for orgasms.” I smirk.
“Boyfriends can be useful in many ways, P. You ready to go in?”
“You’re going to stay with me? What if they ask me something I can’t answer in front of you?”
“What can’t you say in front of me? I would like to think you can tell me anything, Zara. I want to be the person you trust with your deepest darkest secrets,” he tells me.
“You already know more about me than anyone else. I don’t want to scare you off.”
“It’s a good thing I don’t scare that easily.” Ares grins, and my stomach does that swarm of bees thing it does when he looks at me like this.
“Okay, let’s go in.” I take a shaky breath as I open my car door and step out.
My heart is racing. I’m really doing this. Going to speak to a professional about my mental health. I can’t believe Ares set this up. Am I worse than I thought I was? For him to do this, he must think I’m in a bad state, right?
Ares grips my hand and walks me into the building.
He takes the form from the receptionist and fills in all the details for me.
A young brunette doctor calls my name—well, my fake name—and I stand, not letting go of Ares’s hand.
We’re led into a warm, cozy office. There’s a two-seater sofa and then two single chairs.
“I’m Dr Finn. You can call me Louise. Please sit wherever you’re most comfortable.” The doctor points towards the sofa and chairs.
Ares leads me to the double sofa, and I’m relieved he’s sitting so close. I can feel his warmth.
The doctor sits across from us and picks up a notepad. “Katie, what brought you in here today?” She smiles warmly. I’m sure it’s meant to be some sort of welcoming gesture to get me talking.
I open my mouth and then close it. Looking to Ares for help. “She has been experiencing bouts of depression,” he answers for me.
“Katie, how would you describe your mood most days?” The doctor stares directly at me.
“Um, Sad. Tired,” I answer quietly.
“How long have you been feeling this way?”
“A few years,” I answer. I feel Ares’s head turn towards me.
“It started about four years ago,” he adds. How does he even know that?
“This first session is just going to be us getting to know each other better, Katie. I want you to feel safe here. If you’d prefer to talk to me alone, we can do that.”
“No,” I answer quickly. “I need Ares to stay.”
“I’m not going anywhere,” he says.
“Okay, I’m going to ask a few questions, and I want you to be as honest as you can be. There is no judgement in this room. There is no right or wrong answer.”
I nod my head in agreement. I don’t know if I can do this. What is she going to ask?
“What kind of thoughts run through your mind when you’re feeling this sadness?”
“I’m not sure. I usually just cry. And I fixate on not being able to stop crying,” I tell her.
“Do you have self-critical thoughts or feelings of worthlessness?”
“Yes,” I reply. “I feel like I’m a burden most of the time.”
“To who?”
“My family. Ares.” I shrug. “Everyone.”
“Do you feel hopelessness when you think about the future?”
“I have a very good future set out for me,” I repeat the same thing I tell myself every day.
“What does that mean?”
“I’m going to inherit my family’s business. It’s very lucrative.”
“Is that something you want to do?”
“It’s something I have to do,” I say.
“Are there any moments when your mood improves?”
“When I’m with Ares. I’m never sad as much when he’s close,” I admit.
I watch nervously as she writes down in her little book. What the hell is she writing? Did I say something wrong?
“Have you had any thoughts about harming yourself?” she asks.
I glance at Ares and then back at the doctor. This was what I was afraid of. This question.
“Yes, she has,” Ares says.
“Katie?”
“Not harming myself to hurt myself or anyone else. Just… thoughts of ending the sadness, of not being a burden anymore,” I explain.
“How often have you had these thoughts?”
“Not that much. A couple of times.”
“Have you ever tried to act on these thoughts?”
“Once,” I answer quietly.
“Can you tell me about what happened?”
After I describe the whole driving towards a tree moment, the doctor writes down some more notes.
“What stopped you? From hitting the tree?” she presses.
“Ares,” I tell her. “He was in the car. He was yelling at me, and when I realised I’d be hurting him too, I snapped out of it.”
“Do you feel supported by your family or friends?”
“My family loves me. They would support me if they knew how I was feeling. And I have Ares.”
“Do you use alcohol or substances to self-medicate?”
“Yes, she does. She smokes weed,” Ares grunts.
“Katie?” The doctor looks at me, and I nod my head. “I would like you to try to stop that. It’s not going to help you. If anything, that will bring your mood down more.”
“Okay.” I hate that Ares was right. I guess I kind of already knew the weed wasn’t really helping that much, though.
“What do you hope to get out of coming to sessions?”
“I want to get better. I want to not be sad all the time, and I want to not be a burden to anyone.”
“Okay, I would like to see you again next week. In the meantime, I’m going to give you a journal.
There are questions in here to guide your journaling.
I would like you to try to write in this at least once a day, more if you’re feeling up to it.
” The doctor stands, walks over to the desk, and picks up a purple hardcover journal.
It has a butterfly on the cover and gold edges along the pages.
Is the butterfly a coincidence? Or is it fate and I was always supposed to be here right now with Ares? Is this the start of me getting better?