Chapter 9

Present

Landon's POV:

A few days later

I cross my arms over my chest and switch positions in my seat until I'm comfortable. I stare out of the window at the green fields, refusing to speak.

"None of this cognitive-behavioral therapy will help unless you cooperate with us. I'm your psychologist. Talk to me, Landon." She sighs when I don't say a single word. "I'm only here because I want to help you."

No, she's here for the money.

"Why don't you quit, Lisa? The day is coming when you will. All of my previous psychologists did. Go ahead. Quit on me, Lisa. No hard feelings," I mutter. "Make it easy for both of us and quit already. You're getting nowhere anyway."

She sits upright and continues to stare at me. Unthreatened by her, I stare back. She places both of her hands together and leans forward. "You're rude, opinionated, impulsive and you don't seem to value nor understand emotion, but let's get something straight, Kitler, I am not quitting. I never do."

I continue to remain silent.

"Now, I've learned from your previous physiologists that you're usually quiet before erupting. To your knowledge, would you say that's true?" She asks me, not letting up.

"Wait and find out."

"You were awkward in high school. No temper. Not many friends, by choice," she states, reading through my files. "Why do you think that is?"

I shrug.

"I want to know what triggered all this anger inside of you. I can't treat the symptoms. I need to treat the cause. Do you think it has to do with your father's passing?" She digs a little deeper.

If it weren't for Em's pleading, I wouldn't even be attending these stupid classes. They're useless.

"Don't pin the blame on my dad."

"Well, in one of your previous talks, you said that your father expected a lot from you as his son and eldest child. You stated that before he died, he told you to look after your sister and your mother. Correct?"

I flinch at the reference to my mother.

She notices my behavior and surprises me by changing the subject instead of pressing for more. "You're currently single according to these reports. Have you ever had a girlfriend and if so, when?"

Annoyed, I ignore her. I get up from my seat and move to the couch. I lay down and fold my arms behind my head so that I can stare at the ceiling and not her stupid face.

She sighs softly yet continues on probing into my personal life by glancing over my reports. "In your first therapy session, you stated that you'd given up on dating ever since your father passed away. One, because you don't have time. And two, because women leave when learning of your anger issues. This means that your anger is ruling an area of your life and probably more if you'd just talk to me."

None of the girls I've ever wanted have wanted me.

Anger management is supposed to help me recognize the triggers that cause me to become angry. I don't know the triggers because I constantly feel angry, sometimes for no reason at all. When I'm angry, I have feelings of irritation and impatience, frequent arguments and usually act out in physical violence or threats of violence

"Landon, I want you to understand that anger management doesn't try to keep you from feeling anger. Anger is a normal emotion; you just need to learn to manage it without it escalating into violence." She remains silent for a second or two. "What do you think worsens your anger?"

"Stupid people."

"When you're angry, do you sleep poorly or clench your fists or teeth? Does your heart race too fast?" She asks me. "Because that's all physical signs."

Everything she is saying is spot on.

"I know you don't want to be here, Landon. I understand that," she sympathizes with me. "But you have a problem and you need help."

"I don't have any problems," I grumble angrily. "You all have problems."

She presses her lips together in frustration and glances down. "The aim of this is to teach you how to manage your anger, like sleeping more and avoiding too much stress. I need you to be able to identify situations that make you angry. Only then can I teach you skills to use when put in these situations. For example, you can defuse anger simply through clear communication."

"Is our session over yet?" I ask rudely, checking the time yet again.

"I'm going to go out on a limb here. You once said that anger runs in your family. I feel that this all leads back to your mother, that it's connected in some way. I mean, you were obviously devastated when she abandoned you and your sister." She raises an eyebrow at me as if she knows. "Am I right?"

I unintentionally tense before shooting up in my seat. "Time's up," I say before leaving the room, not caring enough to say bye.

I've lost faith in all psychologists. I was willing, in the beginning, to open up and seek help, but that was like seven psychologists before Lisa. None of them really want to help. All they care about is money.

I go, against my will, to therapy because Em thinks I need it. In actual fact, it's just emotionally draining for me. I don't want to talk to a stranger about my life. I don't even know them and I don't owe them anything. But, on the other hand, I owe Emma a lot, even if it means feeling down after every session.

*~*~*~**~*~*~*

"Lan my man, how you doing?" Marvin, the owner of the garage and my boss, asks me. "You're early today?"

I shrug. "Have nothing to do. I need the distraction."

He nods. "As long as that idiot friend of yours isn't here."

"Dean's at the gym," I tell Marv, walking over to the car brought in yesterday. I glance down and shake my head before nudging my foot at the car. "He needs to learn to bench-press a brain into his head."

Marv nods in agreement. "That guy needs a job and it ain't gonna be here. Otherwise, he's going to be foraging for berries for the rest of his life. He can't coaster through life on his looks alone."

"He doesn't even have the looks," I reply with a smirk. "If I had a face like his, I'd sue my parents."

Marvin chuckles and tosses me the keys to the small building. "You need better friends, Kitler. Anyway, I gotta run," he tells me before leaving through the open door.

I glance at the time when I hear him drive away. My shift hasn't even started yet. It's going to be a long day but, at least, my mind will be preoccupied.

"He's right," I say to myself before kicking the tire of the car, "I do need better friends." I knock the top of the car with my knuckles. "Doofus, I can see your shoes. You can come out, he's gone."

I get down on my haunches and glance under the car when he remains silent. "He's gone, idiot," I tell Dean before grabbing a hold of his ankle and pulling.

"What are you doing?!" Dean shouts, finally breaking his silence. "Stop it, dude. You're hurting prized goods here!"

I ignore him and drag him out from underneath the car. "The last thing I want to do is hurt you," I lie. "But it's still on the list."

Dean uses his other foot to kick me away. "What is your problem? You never seen a guy take a nap under a car before?"

"Ah, Dean," I shake my head at him in pity, backing off, "someday you'll go far in life, and I can only hope that you stay there."

As annoying as he is, he's always able to cheer me up. It's probably the only reason why I keep him around.

Dean angrily pulls himself up from the ground. "You're a jerk," he pokes me in the chest with his index finger.

I stifle a laugh and shove him away from me – he should know better than to pick a physical fight with me. "One more wrong move and you're dead," I warn him and for once, I don't really mean it.

He stands up straight and salutes me. "Looking forward to it, Sir!"

I grin. "It will be curtsey of Landon Kitler." I notice the grease stains on his shirt. "How long were you under there anyway?" I ask.

"I can't be sure. I thought it was your shift but then I heard Marvin talking on the phone," he tells me, aware that Marv hates his guts. "I forgot you had therapy today."

I change the subject and take a seat on the hood of the car. "I thought you'd be on a date or at the gym." As far as I know, he doesn't do much of anything else.

He shakes his head. "Neither, I'm being propositioned by too many girls. It's exhausting." He shrugs. "Besides, I told Em that I'd accompany her to the tracks tonight. She wants backup in case 'shiny-face' is there."

Dean's the only guy I fully trust with my sister. I know he'll keep her safe. He has her best interests at heart.

"Xavier practically lives there," I remind him, ignoring the mention of my sister – I'm still infuriated with her.

"You still mad at Em?" Dean asks me, catching on. "She told me that you're still not talking to her."

I shrug carelessly. I'll talk to her when I feel like talking to her – in that case, not any time soon.

"Buddy," he places a hand on my shoulder, "she's your sister. Don't be mad forever. You're already at that point where your life is so sad that even Bob the Builder can't fix it. Don't make it worse."

I hate it when the lack of talent has thoughts.

I scowl at him and twist his hand off of my shoulder. "Stop touching me."

"Owe!" He exclaims in pain. "Alright, alright," he steps away from me, "I'm leaving, I'm leaving. Jeez!" He heads for the door before spinning around to face me, remembering something. "Oh, and F.Y.I., I do have the looks and I can coaster through life on them!" He shuts the door after him.

*~*~*~**~*~*~*

It feels like I've checked the time a million times today. This shift is never-ending. The garage has been empty today. When there's no one around, the day drags on. I've kept myself busy with two cars that Marv has been working on. When I was tired of that, I listened to some tunes on the garage's old radio – the music sucks.

Fortunately for me, I can start locking up now.

I turn off the radio and the lights and retrieve my stuff and the garage keys. I put up the 'closed' sign and eagerly lock the door after me.

"Landon?"

I sigh and turn around, Sarah coming into view. "Garage is closed," I tell her, not caring enough to greet her. I want to get going. "So, if you've been in another accident, I'm not your guy."

There's no Dean here to make me feel guilty this time 'round.

Sarah smiles. "No accident. I promise."

I twirl the keys around on my finger, bored. "Why the visit then?"

She hesitates as if doubtful of my reply. "Up for a chat? Down for a heart-to-heart?"

I have to first have a heart...

"Not really," I answer truthfully.

"I'll buy you food?" She bribes me, having thought this one through.

I walk ahead of her, weighing the deal out in my head. Food always sounds like a win to me.

When Sarah doesn't follow me, I beckon her over to my car. "Where are we headed?"