Page 39 of Penalty to the Heart

“Before then,” she mumbles to herself while writing the word down onto her notepad—the same one I imagine tearing to shreds and flicking into a fireplace until all that remains is soot and ash.

“It’s never been an issue, okay?” I try to defend. “I’ve always been a handful. It’s nothing new. Only now… the team has a problem with it.”

“Is that true, or is that how you feel?”

“I said it, didn’t I?” I retort, uncaring to hide my annoyance anymore.

“You did, but my question was, is it true? Do you feel that the team is no longer accommodating your expression of rebellion, or is it just your perception of the situation?”

“Are you calling me a liar?”

“I’m merely asking you if the remark you made is a realistic account of your behavior, not a question of your honesty.”

“God, this will take forever if you continue with these sorts of mind games,” I grumble.

“Is that what you think therapy is? Mind games?”

“Do you always ask so many questions?” I tap my forehead with my fist, frustrated with her interrogation.

“Yes,” she says plainly. “See how easy that was. To answer a question with an actual answer.”

I let out an exaggerated exhale and just give her what she wants.

“You wanna know the truth?”

“It would help the process.”

“Fine. Yes, it’s true. Okay? Satisfied? I have always had a tenacity for being loud and getting myself in all sorts of trouble. It’s just how I’m wired. Everyone on the team knew that about me. And everyone didn’t give a fuck. Not until…”

“Until what? What changed for your team to no longer put up with such behavior?”

“You know what changed,” I mumble, disheartened.

“I do, but I want you to say. Out loud.”

“What changed? What fucking changed? I’ll tell you what changed! Jack isn’t here to clean up my messes anymore. Is that what you want to hear?” I blurt out, pissed.

“Is that the truth?” she asks, her gentle voice suddenly feeling like a warm balm to my soul.

I take in a deep breath and nod.

“Then yes. That’s what I wanted to hear. That’s what you needed to hear, too,” she explains, with that same gentle tone that had been absent for most of our session.

When she grows silent, I turn my head to the side and stare at her.

“So, aren’t you going to ask me? About Jack?”

“We have plenty of time to talk about your brother and his influence in your life. I think it best we approach your own ways of being before discussing such a traumatic event.”

Traumatic.

At least she got that shit right.

“Do you think fixing me will be that simple?” I let out another self-deprecating chuckle. “Is that what gets you off, Doc? Fixing broken things?”

“Do you believe yourself to be broken?”

Yes.

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