Hello, everyone! I've been writing this story for the past nine months, and can say that I'm proud of it. I'm not quite finished yet- I still have fourteen chapters to write, but I've been working hard. This is a bit of an arc for a certain favorite character of mine. Well it started out that way, and then it kind of took control and wrote itself.
I'd like to personally thank Virls1o1 and Viralsisamazing for helping me so much.
Without further ado, on with the story!

Chapter 1

"So, it's been a week since we've last seen each other, Mr. Blue," Nancy said, jotting something down on her clipboard. That damn clipboard. Sometimes I wondered if she actually wrote anything down on it, or if she just wanted people to think she was busy at work. Of course, she used it to prescribe drugs for me, but I think that's the only legitimate thing she did with it.

"Yeah." I glanced at the clock on the wall. It was plain and boring, much like the light gray walls adorned with various certificates whose authenticity was questionable to me. She herself was perched on a dull blue chair while I stood as close to the door as possible. I still had forty-five minutes that I had to endure.

She looked at me over the top of her glasses and frowned, pointing her pen at the couch. "Won't you sit down? You still have a while before your session's over." When I hesitated, she sighed. "We've been through this. I know you feel trapped right now. You want to stay as close to an exit as you can, in case you need to run away." I hated those words. They were so weak. "But you're safe here. And until you can accept that, I will be patient."

Only because you're getting paid to. I stayed at the door and stared at the wall behind her. Nancy shook her head and scribbled something down. Again. The clock ticking and her pen on the paper were the only real noises in the room. I hated it here. Hated it. This whole thing was so messed up. I wasn't supposed to be here. I was supposed to be out on Sewee, fishing, or out with Tory and the guys. Every tick-tock-tick put me more on edge. Made me ready to scream. Or punch the walls. Or knock over that stupid bookcase. There was no personality here. No photos, no drawings, absolutely nothing. It was like being in Solitary, but worse.

"So are you sleeping okay?" Nancy asked.

Sure, if you mean getting plagued by nightmares. I nodded.

"You've been taking the sleeping pills I gave you?"

Not a chance. Then how would I wake up? No response.

She adjusted her glasses. "You're very smart, Ben. We both know that. So tell me how you think that not doing anything is going to solve your problems?"

"I have no problems," I snapped without thinking.

Nancy arched her eyebrows and sat back. "Is that so? And what would make you feel that way?"

"Everything's fine now," I said as flippantly as possible.

"How so?"

I glowered at the carpeting.

"Ben."

"We're friends again," I grumbled.

"You mean..." The sound of her flipping through her papers. "Tory. She forgave you?"

I nodded again.

"Well that's very good, Ben. Tell me about the occasion." When I stayed silent, she clicked her tongue and wrote again. "You're still keeping things from me? I'm here to help you, Ben. You need to believe that. Have you been meditating?"

She'd apparently done some research on Native American meditation techniques to try and 'connect' with me. I'd be lying if I said I hadn't tried them, but they never worked. I was a doer, not a thinker. Which had gotten me into this mess in the first place. My stupid tendency to not consider everything.

"What about your journal?" Nope. "Talking to the sea?" She had also suggested I go out on my boat and pour my heart out to the ocean. I hadn't done that, either. Couldn't find the time. "How about your guitar? Have you been playing? Music is a very good outlet for emotions that you couldn't otherwise communicate."

I'd heard that speech at least fifty times. "I know."

She looked partially relieved that I was talking again. "So tell me, are you having any more bad dreams?"

I stiffened. How could she know? I never said a word to her about them.

"Your mother's very concerned for you. So is your father. You're not talking to them any more. Why not?"

Well, look where that's gotten me. They just flock back to you and tell you everything like little spies.

She grew quiet, probably thinking of a list of drugs to prescribe me, including a truth serum. "I heard about the incident at the police station. They suspected you. I know that can't be easy. Especially because Tory was there, too. How did she handle it?"

I shrugged.

"Did she try to defend you?"

Another shrug.

"Ben, stop this nonsense." I looked up in surprise at the sharp tone to her voice. "This has been going on for too long. Almost six months with almost no sign of improvement. I can give you all the medicine in the world, give you every single piece of advice I possess, come up with thousands of activities to help you, but none of this will work unless you actually make the effort to try. Ben, do you even want to get better?"

"I'm fine," I barked.

She shook her head. "No, Ben, you're not. You have acute PTSD and minor depression. Both of which will cause serious problems in the future if-"

"If what?" She'd broken me and now the words were flying out of my mouth before I could stop them. "If I don't keep showing up? If my parents don't blow every single dime they have on me? If I don't shove pills down my throat? I don't belong here. Crazy people belong here. I am not crazy!" I was done. I reached for the doorknob, but what she said next stopped me cold.

"If you walk out that door, Ben, you'll be arrested."

Reviews are greatly appreciated!
-WiccaChick98