{Monday, September 19th}

I lean up against the side of the car door, folding my left arm into my lap while I stretch the right out along the door. My stomach repeatedly twists in anticipation and nerves, making me feel like I'm about to puke at any given moment. Which then just adds more worry to my already frazzled mind.

Why am I even worrying so much? It's just my revaluation checkup with Dr. Quinn I've known about since I was released from her clinic a little over a week ago. By now I should be getting used to her seeing me after everything last weekend.

The reassurance doesn't help.

I blow a slow breath out, feeling the knot in my stomach loosen a fraction before simply growing back in place. Almost feeling more uncomfortable than before.

Grimacing, I tighten my hold around my stomach with my left arm, shifting slightly in my seat in hopes it'll help some.

Breathe Alex. She's already seen everything. And actually, she knows everything now too. Thanks to Mrs. Jones of course.

Though I suppose there wasn't any way around it. After the whole 'kidnapping' episode I guess that deserves knowing everything. Especially if you're the one playing doctor for said person.

I'm not really sure how I feel about it. Not that I really know how I feel about anything anymore.

I guess I just don't like the fact that someone else knows everything. That it's one more person that could potentially lead to everyone knowing.

Even though I'm sure she's not going to go babbling it to all her friends over coffee and donuts.

She's wouldn't do that. That I'm certain of.

So why do I feel so....anxious then? But now that I think about it, I think I've been feeling like this since I woke up a little over a week ago here in the clinic.

Heck, I may have been subconsciously feeling like this ever since I was kidnapped by....Razim however months ago that was now.

Six months and 146 days in counting.

I blow another slow breath out, feeling that small bout of relief before the knot reappears back in place. I keep my eyes focused outside the window on my right, watching the scenery blur by in a vain attempt to distract myself.

My right index finger drums the side of the door, my left foot tapping the floor. I steady my breathing as we near our turn off, feeling a sudden jolt of anxiety hit my chest after Don makes a left onto the street that takes us to the clinic.

Less than two minutes before we pull into the parking lot.

I swallow the clump in my throat, squeezing my eyes shut a split second before snapping them back open. I blink, trying to make myself appear less tired than I probably look right now. Those measly few hours of sleep I've been getting every night catching up to me as the day wears on.

I catch the red numbers on the digital clock up front, automatically reading the time.

5:32 P.M.

I look between the silent Don and Lucy up front, feeling another twist of nerves in my stomach.

For some reason they're both coming this time. Which, again, I don't really know what to think of that.

Don hasn't seen.....everything before. And I'd kinda like to keep it that way. Lucy on the other hand has. Though it's a little....different now than it was before.

I gently shift my left shoulder, feeling the uncomfortable tightness across my skin from the still healing brand along with a small ping of pain from the injury.

I'm thrown from my thoughts as we abruptly pull into the familiar small parking lot next to the clinic, my throat instantly tightening with the notion.

Pull it together.

Don parks before wordlessly getting out of the vehicle. Lucy hesitates, glancing back at me before she too steps out.

I force my stiff and slightly shaky hand to grasp the door handle, popping the door open before I shift my feet around to step down onto the paved ground. I readjust the sling strap across my right shoulder as I push the door shut with my left elbow, immediately receiving a slight disapproving glare from Lucy as she looks from my left arm, to the door.

What? It hardly even hurts anymore.

Don leads the way, and Lucy falls in line beside me with a calming smile as we head towards the front door.

Taking a seat next to Don in their small waiting room, I watch as Lucy heads over to the receptionist, hearing the faint sound of her saying my name before she walks back toward us.

She takes a seat on my right, sharing a quick glance with Don as she lowers herself down.

There's a spark of dread that hits my heart, their conversations from last week replaying in my head.

What are they planning?

I find myself staring at the clock hanging on the wall across the room, watching each second tick by in tense silence. The air even feeling like it's growing heavier.

Is it getting harder to breathe in here to anyone else?

I glance to my left, finding Don staring down at some sports magazine he's picked up off the table in front of us, a bored expression splattered across his face. A quick check to my right reveals Lucy sitting quietly while she knits what looks like a sock, her face calm yet with a slightly troubled look in her eyes.

Guess it's just me then.

I reach up to my neck with my right hand, tugging on the collar of my hoodie as I softly clear my throat. Finding it doesn't help in the least bit, I revert to simply running my hand through my newly cut hair in a nervous tick I'm completely aware I do.

Lucy had taken me yesterday to a small, quaint little shop run by a older friend of hers. Lucy's specific place she gets her hair done.

She'd finally insisted I get a hair cut despite how much I would've just preferred to leave it. Not wanting to have to deal with the stress of someone cutting it.

Though she finally got to me when she reminded me about the small detail of me starting school next week.

I contain a shudder as unpleasant thoughts invade my head from just that simple word. The dread only growing.

It's basically the same. Just shorter and with more layers because the older lady insisted they would make me look more 'fetching.' As she put it.

She wasn't too bad. She just liked to talk. A lot.

My heart picks up as Dr. Quinn herself abruptly walks out from the hallway, one of those clipboards clutched in her hands.

Her eyes instantly land on me, a reassuring smile growing across her lips. "Alex." She greets as she walks up to us. "Don, Lucy." She looks at each one as she says their name.

"Quinn." Lucy smiles up at her while Don simply nods in greeting, seeming extra upset today for some reason.

I feel a twist of guilt in my chest, nervously rubbing my right hand on my jeans.

It's probably because of me. He's seemed more distant and grouchy ever since I've been back. Making me severely doubt if he actually wants me around or not.

Lucy's words the other night not assuring me one-hundred percent.

"Alright, Alex. If you'll come along with me we'll get things started." She smiles, then her gaze swing over between Don and Lucy. "I'd like to see you two afterwards."

There's immediately a volley of mixed emotions in me as I comprehend Quinn's words. One side of me wanting Lucy around like before, and the other not wanting anyone whatsoever.

I slowly stand up, glancing back at Lucy and Don as I follow Quinn towards the hallway. They both give me a small smile, Lucy's looking a little disappointed.

I face forward, ducking my head down between my shoulders slightly as I follow Quinn up the hallway. She leads us to the same room I've been in before, shutting the door behind me as I walk in.

She places her clipboard down on the counter, taking a seat in her swirly chair before folding her arms over her crossed knees. I take a seat on the examination table, the paper spread over the surface crinkling with each of my movements.

"How are you doing, Alex?" Quinn starts off with, peering over at me from the five feet of space between us.

  I look down at my lap, lightly shrugging my right shoulder. "Okay." I answer, knowing it's a complete lie.

No one else has to know. Just me.

She taps her pen against her chin in a subconscious action I've come to associate as her little quirk, looking thoughtful.

"Hm," her eyes land on my slinged left arm. "Glad to see you're actually wearing the sling." A spark of amusement lights in her eyes. "How's the arm then?"

My eyes flicker over to my left. "Good, actually." I honestly reply, not finding it necessary to bend the truth seeing as there's nothing to bend.

"Great. Why don't we start off with that then." She words it more as a statement than a question, already standing up and slipping her glasses on from their hanging position around her neck.

She walks so she stands over on my left side, positioning herself behind me. "I'm just going to move it around." She explains, motioning for me to take the sling off.

I pull it over my head, using my right hand to slip my left arm out of its confinement.

She gently takes my left wrist with her left hand, placing her right on my shoulder.

I feel my heart bang up against my ribcage as it picks up speed, my palms growing sweaty.

She slowly extends my left arm straight out so it's level with my shoulder. "How does this feel?" She questions, sounding distracted as she gives her full attention to her work.

There's only a slight discomfort, nothing painful in my opinion.

"Fine."

She nods, tightening her hold slightly on my left wrist as she lifts my arm up further.

When she gets to the point it's about halfway extended up to it's full capacity, I let a small gasp out as a sudden jolt of pain runs up and down my left side from my shoulder.

She stops, letting a sound out like she's just found a long lost puzzle piece. "Have you been doing those arm exercises I told you to do?" I feel her gaze land on my face.

I fiddle with a loose string on the side of my jeans with my right hand, keeping my eyes down.

It's not that I haven't been doing them - because I have. I just haven't been doing them  as much as I probably should be.

  "Yes."

  They're basically a bunch of the same small, rehabilitation exercises I'd done after I almost died from a sniper basically shooting me in the heart.

Which means I didn't really bother to do more than glance over the paper of instructions Quinn gave me before I left last weekend.

"Sure." She gives me a knowing look, reading my deceit far easier than I'd have liked.

Come on Alex. You weren't a spy for no reason. Sound convincing.

She releases my arm, stepping back. "Try to work on those a little more. Don't want any muscles failing on you in the future because you were too stubborn to do these simple exercises that purposely prevent any future muscles spasms connected to this specific injury. But besides that, I do believe it's coming along well."

She steps around to my front, my chest squeezing as she picks her stethoscope up off the counter after jotting a few things down on the clipboard.

"You know what comes next." She says, sounding somewhat apologetic.

I grimace, flexing my hands twice to help get the jitters out before I reach over with my left hand to grab the fabric of my hoodie. I carefully pull my left arm out first before tugging it over my head and off my right arm.

  I set it down behind me, moving to do the same to the light long sleeve shirt I'm wearing underneath.

The cool air grazes across my bare skin as I pull my shirt completely off, goosebumps growing along my arms and back.

I can't help but fiddle with my hands in my lap, feeling like I need to be doing something as the feelings inside my chest multiply by three. Giving me a more antsy/nervous sensation.

My feet lightly tap against the examination table, my eyes down on my hands as I keep my shoulders scrunched up in some automatic gesture.

"Alex, there's no need to be so nervous and tense." I almost jump at Quinn's sudden voice, forgetting she was here for a split second. "It's just me." She assures.

I know.

I force my feet to stop moving, clinching my hands together to halt their own movements along with trying to hide the tremble I can feel starting up.

"No stuttering. No movements. And no noises."

I have to hide a wince as Frances's voice suddenly explodes in my head, only making the sickening feeling in my stomach grow worse.

What if I can't keep it down? What if I throw up?....What would she think then?

I imagine the powerful wave of embarrassment that would surely hit me if that did in fact happen, the anxiety inside me only seeming to grow.

"Is there a reason you seem extra nervous? Is something wrong?"

I snap my gaze up at Quinn who's standing in front of me, her face perfectly masked like the professional doctor she is.

I shake my head too fast. Making it a sure sign I'm lying despite how much I want to hide it. "N-No." I rush out, my eyes looking anywhere but at her.

World class fail.

I anxiously run my left thumb over the inside of my right wrist, feeling the warmth emitting from the still irritated area. I keep it down, determined not to let her see it.

Or else everything's going down the drain. Real fast.

Quinn stays silent, and I feel her calculating gaze sweep over me. "Alright, let me go over the usual routine."

She reaches out for a hand to take my pulse, and I immediately hold my left hand out. Strategically keeping her away from my right.

She finishes, quickly examining the top of my hand where I scratched it up last week before releasing my hand.

She moves to my back, placing her stethoscope in her ears before placing the cold end on my skin. I jerk slightly with the contact, not really sure myself if it was more from the cold or just the fact she touched me.

"Deep breath in."

I breathe in.

"Breathe out."

I release it.

She instructs me to do this several more times while adjusting the stethoscope with each one. She finishes up, doing a few more small mandatory things before stopping at my back again.

I flinch as she gently places her fingers next to the brand, seeming to be examining it. She gently prods the corner of it, immediately making me draw a quick breath in as a sudden stinging sensation starts up.

"Sorry." She apologizes, and I feel her gaze sweep over the rest of my back. "The infection appears to be gone. Though I believe I'll have you continue to take those antibiotics for a little while longer."

I keep my eyes forward, steadying my breathing while I squeeze my hands together.

Her fingers brush over one of the larger cuts on my back she stitched up last week, my throat unexplainably tightening.

She steps back, removing her hand. "Lay back please, Alex." She instructs.

I lay back against the back rest, and she gently begins to prod my stomach. Her face one of complete concentration.

I bite my lip to hold in the grunts I feel the need to release as she presses down on a more sensitive area, my head turning away from her.

She finishes after another few seconds. "I believe your abdominal trauma is on the road to a complete recovery." She smiles, seeming almost proud about that prospect.

There's a hint of surprise in me. Because honestly, I thought it was hopeless after Ben decided to use me as his personal punching bag.

"Have you been able to eat okay?" She questions, peering over at me. I nod, looking down at my lap again.

She pats my arm, straightening up. "Everything else seems to be doing fine." She musses, stepping back before I hear the sound of her pulling her rubber gloves off. She tosses them in the trashcan tucked in the corner, coming back around to sit in her chair.

"You can put your shirt back on." She smiles in reassurance. "We're practically done already."

I feel a immediate loosening in my chest and throat, her words calming me more than she probably thinks.

We're done already?

I quickly pull my shirt back on before sliding my hoodie on over it, feeling ten times better.

She places her clipboard in her lap, swinging her feet. "How have you been sleeping?" She taps the pen on her chin again, leaning her head to the side as she examines me.

I hide a grimace, keeping my face angled down. "It's.....decent." I decide on, knowing it's practically hopeless to lie seeing as my face probably says it all.

"And how many hours would you say you get a night? - on average."

I gnaw the inside of my cheek, nervously picking at my fingernails. "A....couple." I mutter, switching to fiddling with the bottom of my hoodie.

"I see." She says, and I hear her write something on her clipboard. "Are you having difficulties falling asleep? Recurring nightmares?" She lists off, her voice fading at the end.

Yes, and double yes.

I open my mouth, finding it hard to answer as I debate my choices. A minute ticks by, a tense silence filling the room. "Both." I finally answer, feeling ashamed for some odd reason.

She taps her pen on her chin again, and I can't help but look up at her pensive expression.

"Are you having flashbacks still?"

I automatically tense, my shoulders folding inwards. I swallow, my eyes flickering towards the door before settling back on my lap.

".....Yes." I force out like it was literally stuck somewhere in my throat, immediately clamping down on my bottom lip as a hint of embarrassment hits me out of nowhere and reddens my cheeks.

Why do I even feel embarrassed for admitting it in the first place?

"And how often would you say you have panic attacks now?" She continues, not seeming the least but fazed by my lack of enthusiasm.

The knot in my stomach tightens uncomfortably, causing that nausea feeling in my gut to peak once more.

"Every other day." I glance up at her from under my hair, letting a slow breath out.

She taps her pen down on her clipboard after writing something down, yet again. She makes a humming noise, standing up from her seat. "Alright, that's all my questions for right now. Lets do your weight and height then you can switch places with Don and Lucy."

Something twists in my stomach, my head growing warm.

What's so important they have to discuss me without me actually being here? I don't like it.

I stand up, slipping my shoes off before I step up onto the scale Quinn is currently standing by.

"161 pounds and you're now officially six feet tall." She announces, sounding somewhat astonished despite her already knowing. You know, seeing as I was here a week ago.

I step off, and Quinn once again writes on her clipboard. "You must've gone through quite a growth spurt there, young man. And it's miraculous how you've gained those much needed pounds in such a short span of time. Especially considering your height." She rambles, vaguely reminding me of Polly when she gets carried away with something that excites her.

I look down at the ground, shoving my hands in my pockets.

All that while I was being forced to train for something I didn't want to do. Though, I do have to admit it did get me back into shape after basically wilting away while in the custody of....Razim.

I feel a shudder run down my spine, and I immediately redirect my thoughts on something else.

"Continue wearing your sling and take your medication. I'll walk you out to the Browns.'" She instructs, making me feel like I've missed something.

This is everything?

I grab my sling before following Quinn out back the way we came from, a sinking feeling hitting me.

Why does she want to talk to them....alone?

Lucy and Don immediately stand as we enter the waiting room, and my eyes sweep over the few other people sitting around before settling back on them. Lucy places her hand on my shoulder as I pass, her eyes soft and kind as alway. The knot in my stomach loosening slightly.

"Alright, I'll just steal them for a few minutes, Alex." Quinn informs me, already turning back to the hallway.

Don follows, and Lucy looks back at me. "We'll be back soon." Lucy assures me with a gentle smile, turning to follow them up the hall.

I slowly sit back down, my joints feeling stiff and uncoordinated as a cold sensation washes over me.

Licking my lips, I glance back around the room, finding it somewhat unsettling now that everyone I know is gone. Leaving me alone with strangers.

Alone.

>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>
No ones (POV)

  The door closes with a soft click, and the small party of three break apart as they each take their own individual seat in the room.

Dr. Quinn crosses her legs before leaning back in her chair, some heavy thought making her seem suddenly older and worn.

Lucy and Don sit quietly in the chairs against the wall, both seeming a bit fidgety and worried.

Everyone's minds on only one thought; Alex's health.

"Alright, I'd like to ask you a few questions before we discuss anything if that's alright with you two?" Quinn looks between the married duo, adjusting her glasses on her nose.

Don stays quiet, his arms crossed over his chest as he observes the conversation. Being one for less talking and more for listening.

Lucy nods. "Alright." She agrees, shifting in her seat before the crosses her arms over the purse she holds in her lap.

"So far as I can tell, Alex is in perfect physical shape. All his wounds are healing wonderfully, and his shoulder seems like it'll be good as new before we know it." Quinn tells them, sounding more like a doctor than a actual friend as her tone grows more serious.

"But that's not what I want to discuss." She leans forward, placing her forearms against her knees. "As you know, between the ages of ten to sixteen is when a child develops a strong sense of who they are as they go through the mental/emotional/social changes throughout puberty in that stage of life." Quinn explains.

"Alex, as we all know, has been through two drastic, traumatizing, and mentally straining experiences within the last six months - not including the stress of what MI6 had him doing before that."

"He's been both mentally and physically abused for long periods of time. Forced to watch people he knew on a personal level die before him, and then he was forced to fight in underground boxing matches." Quinn sighs, sounding suddenly tired.

Lucy's face grows troubled with the recount of Alex's past. Don shifting uncomfortably in his seat.

"My concern is that Alex has been put under too much mental strain during these last six months of his life. A valuable time for self-discovery in teenagers that's undoubtedly been tampered with."

"Here's one of my questions; How has he been interacting with everyone as of lately?" Quinn changes the topic, peering curiously over at the Browns'

Lucy pulls the strap on her purse, nibbling on her bottom lip as she mulls the question over.

Don surprisingly beats her to the answer.

"He doesn't. Not really." Don shrugs, and Quinn raises her brow in a silent urge to continue. "He'll pretend by sitting around with us as we talk - he even talks more than he did before. But he mostly spends all his time either up in his room, or sitting at the table studying for his test."

Don shakes his head, a aurora of sadness around him. "He doesn't try to engage in anything. Simply staying in the background whenever he is around us." Lucy looks down at her lap, a tear brimming in her eye.

"We even went to the apple orchard the other day with Polly and Mack. I don't think he said a word the whole time." Don finishes with, leaning back in his chair.

Quinn stays quiet a moment before answering. "He's separating himself from the people around him. Trying to hide himself away by pushing everyone away. It's a common tactic with those who've gone through traumatic experiences." Quinn explains, gazing over at them.

"The outcome usually depends on said people he's surrounded with staying with him despite how much he might push them away, how much he complains or argues."

Lucy nods along with Don, both understanding.

"Now, have you noticed if he's sleeping much? He said he was only getting a couple hours a night." Quinn glances down at her clipboard.

Lucy grimaces, nodding her head. "I've heard him up and about a few times. I've even found him sitting at the dining room table staring at nothing once or twice around two a.m." Lucy somewhat hesitantly answers, glancing over at Don.

He joins in.

"I've heard him plenty despite how quiet he tries to be. I don't think he even gets that much sleep. Did you see him or not? He looks exhausted." Don's voice rises, and Lucy places a calming hand down on his arm.

Don glances over at her before redirecting his attention on Quinn. "I've seen him working on his math or something at the table and he'll suddenly start nodding off. Only to play it off as nothing when I tell him to go rest." Don's voice hitches, surprising both Lucy and Quinn.

"I've heard him screaming at night - painful, heart wrenching screams. Thrashing around in his bed-" He cuts himself off, looking down at his lap as he regains his breath.

Lucy's brow furrows. This news obviously bothering her.

"My point is, he's hurting. And he's trying to hide it from us. Isn't there something you can do so he can at-least get some sleep?" Don questions, sounding almost like a plea.

Quinn shakes her head. "He insists on not taking anything for sleeping. And I have a feeling it has to do with his nightmares he's been having. I can't force him to take anything, and technically, neither can you." She sits up straighter, eying Don with a fresh outlook on him.

"My theory is he still has ptsd - one of the longest cases I've ever seen, along with a serious case of depression." She informs them, uncrossing her legs.

"Depression and ptsd present themselves differently in each individual. They can cause; reclusiveness, hostility, aggression, aggravation, nervousness, hyper sensitivity, irritability, restlessness, and difficulties concentrating." She lists off, seeming to mentally go over the facts in her head.

Lucy hesitates before opening her mouth. "He's been a little more aggressive than before. Snappy." She sighs. "And he's definitely nervous....a lot."

Don nods in agreement. "I think he's also been having....flashbacks." He adds, seeming to go over something in his mind. Perhaps a memory.

"Yes. He begrudgingly admitted to having them still." Quinn confirms, tapping her pen on her clipboard.

"Now you two suggested that he should be seeing a therapist." Quinn reminds them. "And I agree." She flips through a few papers. "It says here he was seeing one for a while after he was rescued from his first kidnapping a few months ago. Though it apparently didn't end well and he's refused to see one since then."

The room goes quiet, everyone mulling over this new information.

"But," Quinn starts. "I firmly believe that he needs help - more than I can give." She leans back. "So I've taken the liberty of contacting a psychiatrist friend of mine over in Cambridge city - no more than a hour away from here, and she's agreed to take Alex on as a patient."

Lucy looks mildly troubled, hating the fact they're practically talking behind Alex's back. Don glares down at his lap before picking Lucy's hand up and holding it in his own. He squeezes her hand, their eyes meeting a few seconds as they come to a mutual agreement.

Don looks back up at Quinn. "Alright, we believe it's the best thing for now. When's his first appointment?" He questions.

Quinn smiles slightly, letting a breath out before she speaks. "Tomorrow at 1." She informs them.

Lucy and Don both grimace slightly. Though it's not because Quinn already set a date without their knowledge. No, it's because they have to tell Alex before tomorrow.

"Okay." Lucy speaks up, squaring her shoulders as she realizes this is what they need to do. "We'll tell him on the way home." She nods to herself.

Quinn writes something down on her clipboard, quickly unclipping the paper once she's done. "It's for the best, Lucy. He needs help. He needs to talk about it or else he's going to tear himself up more than he already has." Quinn gives Lucy a sympathetic look, knowing Lucy likes to believe time can heal anything.

"Now I'm positive he's not going to react well to this news, but stick with him. No matter how unbearable or how hurtful he might get. He's trying to push you all away. Don't let him succeed." Quinn gives them both a knowing glance.

"But besides that, I believe Alex is perfectly capable of attending school. Though I'd recommend acquiring Jude's opinion tomorrow too." Quinn stands up, Lucy and Don following suit.

Quinn hands Lucy a paper regarding the address of the psychiatrist, a soft and reassuring smile on her lips before it becomes serious.

"Also, you need to keep a firm eye on him. He's still unstable and isn't in his rational mind yet. He's scared and that leads to conflicting and dangerous thoughts." She hesitates before speaking. "I'm not sure if you're aware of this, but I feel you need to know. Especially now."

Don and Lucy tense at Quinn's dead serious voice, not likely the sudden heavy atmosphere.

Quinn takes a breath. "He's attempted suicide before."

A thick blanket of silence fills the small room, Don and Lucy completely flabbergasted in their own way.

"W-What-when?" Lucy stutters out, holding a hand to her mouth as her eyes grow glassy.  

Don fists his hands by his side, pulling Lucy up next to him. Needing her support more than she probably needs his.

"It was back when he was rescued from some madman by the name of Razim who'd been torturing him for over a month in some old abandoned laboratory." Quinn's voice fades at the shocked expression that's slowly taking over both Don and Lucy's faces. "I don't know the exact details. Just what I've read in his medical file."

Quinn steps closer to Lucy, soothingly rubbing her back. "He's on a fine line, Lucy. But I have confidence that with your family he can stabilize himself once he realizes he's indeed safe." She urges, not able to keep the sadness from her voice.

"He's a child - a insecure and frightened child. He needs to know he's in good hands."

Don nods, pulling Lucy closer to him.

"Just keep him monitored. There's no saying he'll actually attempt again. It's just best to be aware of all the possibilities." Quinn opens the door, holding it open for Don and Lucy as they walk through.

"He needs guidance. Guidance only a parent figure can give."

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Alex's (POV)

  I sit in the tense air that's currently wrapped up in the back seat, my right hand back to playing with the loose thread on my jeans as what feels like a dark cloud begins to hang over my head.

What did they talk about? She didn't tell them -

My heart jumps before sinking in dread, my throat and chest tightening with that one thought.

I blow a steady breath out, clenching my shaky hands together.

No. She wouldn't have.....

But what if she did?

I glance up at Don and Lucy who're sitting quietly up front, trying to gauge any differences in their behavior towards me.

What do they -

"Alex, we have something to tell you." Lucy abruptly announces, glancing back at me before returning her gaze back to the front.

I suddenly feel like I can't breathe, the suffocating suspense growing too much.

"Quinn - We." She corrects. "Decided it was.....best if you started seeing a therapist." Her voice fades, almost like she's unsure.....or afraid.

I blink, staring straight out the front window shield past Lucy's head. A tidal wave of emotions wash over me, momentarily drowning me. Betrayal, fear, anger, and many more emotions overriding all sensible thoughts.

"Alex?" Lucy timidly calls back, glancing at me from the overhead mirror.

My breathing picks up, hands tightening over my thighs as I lower my eyes to my lap.

A....A therapist.

"Alex." Don pipes up, slowing down as we near the driveway to their house. "It's already been decided.

Anger quickly overrides everything else, and I blow out a slow breath through clenched teeth.

"I don't need a bloody head shrink!" I hiss under my breath, my anger and frustration clouding my thoughts to the point I don't even comprehend the fact I'm no longer hiding my accent like I've been purposely doing these last few months.

I watch as Don's hands tighten around the steering wheel, his own anger beginning to clash with my own while Lucy sits quietly in her seat. Both shocked by my outburst.

"I'm sorry, Alex. But you're going tomorrow for your appointment at 1. There's no question about it." Don practically growls, keeping his voice low like he's restraining himself.

There's a quick flash of fear that hits me out of no where, momentarily distracting me from the torrent of thoughts currently swirling in my brain.

He's not him. He's not him.

Or is he?

I cross my arms, tilting myself to the right as I push myself as close to the door as possible. Betrayal stinging me harder than the tears I can feel brewing in my eyes.

They just simply decided this without giving me a single say in the matter? And now Don's barking commands at me while Lucy stands by and lets him.

They don't care for you. None of them do.

I stare out the window, willing the car ride to be over so I can escape from the small confinement, the thoughts, and the disappointed Don and Lucy. So I can breathe easier.

No more than five minutes goes by before we're pulling up to the their house, the air only seeming to thicken from that time as the silence stretches. The vehicle stops, and Don switches the gear down to park.

I quickly unbuckle from my seat, grabbing the sling I've yet to put back on as I place my trembling hand on the door handle.

"Alex-"

That's all I hear Lucy say before I'm out the door and shutting it behind me as I head straight for the house.

A nagging guilt gnaws at my insides for cutting her off. But I quickly remind myself of the predicament, shaking the feeling off and pushing it to the back of my mind.

I march up the steps two at a time, hearing the sound of two doors slamming shut behind me before I hear the unmistakable sound of the front door opening a few feet in front of me.

Mack opens the door, a smile on his face. "So how'd....." He trails off as I brush by him to enter the house, completely ignoring him. I catch his face falling in distress before I'm through the hallway, heading up towards the stairs.

I ignore all the thoughts wanting to bombard me for disrespecting Lucy and ignoring Mack as I practically sprint up the stairs leading to my room, that dark cloud seeming to grow thicker over my head like in some comic book. Everything making me feel ten times more useless than I already felt. Downgrading.

I shut my room behind me, locking it before I march to the middle of the room. I toss the sling on my bed, raising both hands up to grip my head. Wanting to feel the pain that comes with raising my left arm.

You deserve it after that show you put on.

I grit my teeth, repeatedly running my hands through my hair like it might actually help to still the voices and thoughts in my head. A ever growing dread weighs down on my chest, suffocating me to the point I practically feel like I can't breathe as one specific word replays in my mind. Over, and over again.

Tomorrow.

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A/N
*Scroll down to see the required amount of votes before the next chapter*

Hey......😅 I apologize for the late update. It just wasn't coming too easily and I had other things to do. Sooooo.

And it's sooooo long. 😳 (6,300 words.)

So anyway, some new things have been revealed and all that jazz. Things are going down. I just hope I didn't ruin anything. I seriously wasn't feeling it for this chapter sadly.😭

Questions:

1.) How does any of this new information regarding Alex affect you? (It probably doesn't, I just don't have any good questions. Lol)

2.) Who sometimes wishes Alex wasn't so darn stubborn? 😆

3.) Do you agree with Quinn and the Browns' about their decision on Alex seeing a 'head shrink'?(as Alex puts it.)

  Alright!! I need 18 VOTES before I update again!!! ⭐️⭐️ Come on guys! I know you can do it!

Maggy