Mirror

I

!! This story contains sensitive content. Such as SH, SI, etc.
THEY WON'T ALWAYS BS CENSORED.
I do not encourage any themes / behaviors written in the story. All characters, places and scenarios are purely fictional. Any relation to people, places, situations, etc, are coincidental.
Again, please be aware that this story contains triggering and uncomfortable topics. Each chapter containing sensitive material will have a warning
Viewer discretion is advised. !!

-Minnsta

TW// Mentions of Su*c*dal Ideation

***
HONESTY

    THE WALLS ARE BREAKING.
    The walls are breaking. The. Walls. Are. Breaking. In the far corner of the room, tiny, soundless cracks crept up the wall. They inched farther, wider, and quicker, leaving traces of dust in their decay. Every second I spent watching these cracks expand up the wall and over the ceiling, my eyes fell in and out of focus.

    My eyebrows pinched together to hold my focus. My nose twitched at the cracks, now speeding across the walls, and my fingernails dug rougher into the sides of my fingers. I watched and waited, eager for the moment the walls would finally collapse on me so the worry would go away.

    "Leila?" A voice spoke out.

    It was like in the movies when the main character was snapped out of their head with a 'whooshing' sound effect playing over. All the voices and background noises, and whatever was around them, finally came into focus. In this case, it was air loudly blowing out of the vent and silent chatter from behind the door. My therapist's leather chair squeaked as he repositioned himself.

    "Are you feeling okay?" he asked, carefully watching me. I hadn't realized I moved my head to face him. It just happened. The few forehead lines he had deepened as his eyebrows furrowed and his eyes studied my face.

    My eyes peeled away and back to the wall behind him, where the tiny cracks were, only to find it smoothly coated in cream-colored paint unlike before. I felt my eye twitch and a cold shiver run down my body. I gave the wall one last look before dropping my head to my hands sitting in my lap.

    Shit.

    "Leila?" Dr. Nate asked again.

    I snapped my head up, yanking the sleeves of my sweater over my blood-smudged fingers. He flashed a concerned smile at me and leaned his elbows onto his knees. My eyebrows rose in question, waiting for him to ask what I didn't catch.

    He caught my silence, taking a deep breath in. "Leila, how are you feeling right now?"

    "Uh." I searched the floor for an answer, exhaling miserable attempts to answer him. "I, uh, um."

    You're fine. Relax, tell him you're fine.

    My breath hitched when an unsettling heartbeat shook my body. A ring echoed in my head and I blinked rapidly in hopes it'd do something. My hands naturally fiddled together, going back to the raw skin exposed on the side of my fingers.

    Don't keep him waiting. Say it.

    "I'm fine," I said too quickly.

    "Are you sure?"

    I nodded my head and forced myself to look back at him. "Yeah, I'm sure."

    Dr. Nate waited, maybe thought my answer over a bit before letting it slide. I knew for a fact my answer was too blunt, too quick—too shaky for him to be okay with it.