Past the pristine glass doors, I was surprised at how silent it was inside. Perhaps it was because it was in contrast to the bustling city or the lady screaming, but it was so oddly sudden that it made me pause for a moment.

Inside, there was hardly anyone there. There was no receptionist typing away. There were doors with no handles, and it was about the size of the hall from assignment day. Chairs lined the walls and were in rows in the center. But only a few people were spread sparsely around the room. A few fake trees as the only decoration.

Jake and I took a seat near the entrance, the seat reminding me of the painful bus chairs with hideous patterning. I suppose we would find out when we were needed; after all, our appointment was at the same time. Perhaps it would be couples therapy.

Or maybe it was just a mere coincidence.

"Rebecca Aria," a robotic voice called through the room. Hearing my name made me jump and I stood, suddenly feeling as though I was back at matching day. Although, this voice was clearly a woman's, at least that's what it was trying to replicate.

When I stood, I was surprised to see one of the doors open, a woman standing in it. Silently, she gave me a wave. I looked back to Jake who appeared just as confused as me. I didn't want to be left alone with this woman. Jake nodded for me to go, and I gave him one final glance.

"You must be Rebecca Aria," the woman said as I approached, her voice slightly warmer than I had expected. She extended a black-gloved hand to me which I shook. Her eyes reminded me of my own mother's, oddly similar. She gave me a smile as she said, "My name is Hannah, did you want to follow me?"

I nodded, and she turned on her heels and began to walk down the hallway. The smell was exactly like that from the hospital; disinfectant. But there was also the smell of freshly baked cookies, something which was out of place but comforting.

A man with blonde hair and a warm smile waved to Hannah as we passed, and she waved back. Friendly, oddly too friendly. I wondered if either of them had seen the screaming woman only five minutes earlier, or whether they were left just in the dark as we are.

"Here's my office," she said, stopping in front of a door with the number 206 printed on a metallic plate. She took out her key-card, scanning it, before opening the door. She allowed me to walk inside first, and when I did, I was overwhelmed by the smell.

It was exactly the smell of milk and honey.

I tried to ignore how uncomfortably familiar the place was as I took a seat on a grey armchair. The room itself almost reminded me of an apartment layout, with the sofa and armchairs and a small coffee table. She took a seat at a more maroon-colored chair opposite me.

"Rebecca," she began, taking a small clipboard and a pen. She wore a black skirt which crept dangerously high up her leg when she sat. She crossed her legs, her shirt white buttoned and long sleeves. She clicked the end of her pen, "Do you know why this has been scheduled for you?"

"I hugged my Dad," I said, already feeling dread at what was to come. She nodded, scribbling something down. She had brown colored hair that had been tied back into a tight ponytail.

"It also seems you've been having some distressed dreaming," Hannah said, her voice calm and not as accusing as I had first expected. She sighed, uncrossing her legs before recrossing them, "The first few weeks are always the worst, you'd be surprised at the amount of people your age I have to see in the month of March,"

I didn't know what she wanted me to say, but she stared at me, looking at my face as if she were Scott trying to read me. After a few seconds, she looked back to her clipboard and wrote something down.

"I notice you have two watches," she said, pointing to my wrist. Already I could feel myself blushing from embarrassment as I looked down at the watch Jake had given me. She clicked her pen, "Is it a family heirloom?"

"My uh- my match gave it to me," I said, shifting in my seat. She nodded slowly, deliberately, although she didn't appear to write anything down this time. 

"Jake Morris, right?" Hannah said, and I wasn't sure why, but it was odd that she knew so much about me. She leaned back against her chair, "How have you two been?"

"Good..." I said. I hated this. How was I supposed to tell a stranger everything? Especially given half of the things were in a legal grey area. I wondered how much she actually knew about me. She nodded at my response.

"Have you two been intimate yet?" she asked, and the casualty in which she said it made me feel slightly uncomfortable. I was flustered for a moment, unsure of how exactly to respond. Did she really expect me to answer this?

"Uh- no..." I said, my cheeks burning. She nodded again, writing something down. I could feel my heart beating rapidly.

"It's suggested that that happens within the first few weeks," she said, not meeting my eyes as she continued to write something down. I was hating this with every new question. The thought of what she was proposing made me feel sick. Hannah continued, "You don't need to feel uncomfortable, this is all confidential. Whatever happens in this room, stays in this room,"

I had a feeling that that wasn't exactly true.

"Now," she continued, flipping over a page on her clipboard. I could see for a brief moment her writing, although I couldn't read it, I could see that her handwriting was surprisingly tiny. There appeared to be typed up pages as well. Hannah looked at me as she said, "It says here that this isn't your first therapy appointment,"

I didn't know how it did, but it was already getting worse.

"After a friend of yours disappeared. Marie, was it?" she asked, and I nodded. I hadn't heard her name spoken in years, and it made me feel ill just thinking of it. She must have noticed my reaction as she wrote something down, nodding, "Were you and Marie close?"

"Yeah..." I was already struggling to speak, feeling like I just wanted to be home. I wanted to be at work with Evan and his fluctuating emotions, Noah with his skittish behavior, and Scott just being Scott.

But I was here.

"You were 12 when she disappeared, correct?" she asked, and I nodded. I didn't want to speak about her, but it didn't seem I was given a choice. Hannah placed her clipboard down on the table face down, "I understand if it's difficult Rebecca, but this is a safe space... Marie is still filed as a missing person, although there hasn't been any leads in four years. It says here that she showcased some homosexual tendencies. Do you recall that?"

I felt like I was back 4 years ago with the original therapist.

I didn't know what that word meant, so I shook my head. She nodded, picking up the clipboard again but being careful not to show me anything. I shifted in my chair, curious but uncomfortable. I wondered if Jake was still waiting.

"How has work been?" she asked, and I was relieved to change the subject. She clicked her pen again, the sound beginning to annoy me, "A co-worker of yours has recently passed. Although you are new, I understand that it can be difficult to process death. How are you dealing?"

"I didn't really know him well," I said, and she nodded. I wondered what kind of things she was writing down about me, whether she saw through my paranoia or knew more than I thought she did. She clicked her pen again.

"And your other co-worker, Scott Preston? It's fairly common for Computer Technology to assign people in pairs in order to process the new job intensity better. Do you get along with him?" it was odd, already, seeing how much she knew. 

"He's nice," I said, feeling my heart jump a bit at the thought of him. I wondered how he was going, whether he had already gone through all the new files yet. I added, "He's quiet but he's good once you know him,"

"I understand you spent a night with him at the hospital?" she said, meeting my eyes. I felt my stomach drop. How much did she know? I nodded and she continued, "That was nice of you. It's good to have friends, although it is important that you spend the beginning weeks with your match,"

It always seemed to return back to Jake.

"Speaking of," she clicked her pen again, a sound that was beginning to annoy me, "You two will be having a joint therapy session shortly, just so you're aware. But for now, this session is about you. So, what's your thoughts on this therapy so far?"

"Uh..." the question caught me off guard, and oddly, the familiar smell around me made me want to tell her the truth. So I answered, "Uncomfortable?"

Hannah laughed, clutching her chest gently as if she was trying to be polite. I felt like sinking into my chair further. She nodded at me, clicking her pen again.

"That's completely normal," she said, "Thank you for being honest. I understand it might not be easy to talk to someone you just met about all this; but I promise you, I talk to people with these exact issues every year."

There was one thing which I was thankful for, and that was the fact that she wasn't as hostile as I had expected. Hannah was definitely a lot nicer than the woman all those years ago, although I wasn't sure whether that was genuine or all part of the act.

"It's difficult to get over family members," she said, her pen clicking again, "But- you do have to understand that it's unhealthy to be attached. But with therapy, it can be helped. So I would like to schedule weekly therapy sessions to get over this with you. It will only be a few hours in the morning and you may return to work after that,"

"For how long?" I asked, already dreading the next week. If therapy was supposed to help, then this was definitely doing the opposite. She paused, looking at me, either in thought or examining me.

"However long is needed," she said, writing something down again. Hannah sighed, placing down the clipboard behind her on her desk. She stood up, giving me a smile, "I'll just go get Jake, now shall I?"

I nodded, although I doubted that if I disagreed it would change anything. She walked towards the door, the smell becoming overwhelming now. As she scanned her key-card and walked out, she hesitated.

"I'll just be a moment, alright?" she said, and I nodded. And once the door closed, I realized I was alone. The clipboard was on the desk, too, with scribbled notes. It would only take a few seconds to look at it.

And I decided to take the chance.