Page 88 of The Keeper

Clean slate now. Gotta get back to my routine this week and actually stick to it.

Traffic moved with too much ease for my liking. I arrived at my appointment on time. Squeezing the steering wheel to within an inch of its non-existent life did nothing to calm me. My mood soured even more the second I saw the good doctor sitting in his chair, scribbling something in his notebook.

“Ah, Xavier. Glad to see you.”

I stood by the door, toying with the idea of walking out. Stripping off my armor and letting the pain run free didn’t appeal to me.

“Have a seat.” He pointed to the cream-colored couch. It taunted me with its broken promise of comfort. Groaning internally, I took my spot on the cushion and stared at the wall with the oil painting.

The worst thing about being here right now was the quiet. It gave my thoughts permission to relive the moment I walked out of Victoria’s house. I could still hear the door slam shut behind me. Even worse, I could hear her crying.

“The longer you sit there in silence, the more I’m going to write.”

My fingers dug into the arm of the couch at the sound of his voice.

“It was a long week, okay? Is that what you want to hear?”

Dr. Frances sighed, shifting in his chair. “I want to hear whatever it is you want to tell me. Avoidance gets you nowhere fast. Did you at least do the homework I asked you to do?”

A bitter laughed escaped my lips before I could suppress it. “You don’t know the half of it.”

“I’m all ears,” he responded, leaning back in the chair. “What happened?”

“I did the whole really feel it thing and it bit me in the ass.”

All I got for a response was a raised eyebrow. No writing, no nodding, none of that. Just a stupid raised eyebrow.

“What was it you felt?” he finally asked.

“Like shit.” I snapped.

“What else?”

Covering my face, I leaned my head back, trying to erase the image of Victoria’s distressed expression when she told me to go.

“Inadequate,” I said without thinking.

“What triggered that feeling?”

“My general existence,” I muttered.

“Walk me through what happened.”

I watched him make a few notes before giving his undivided attention to me. The disquiet that’s haunted me for days kicked into high gear.

“Bad week at training.”

The eyebrow went up again. This guy wouldn’t let me slide by any questions, no matter how hard I tried.

“If there’s one thing about the last week you could change or do differently, what would it be?”

“I’d get more sleep.”

“Do you suffer from insomnia often?”

“Didn’t say I had insomnia, doc. Just that I’d get more sleep.” I clenched my jaw, eyeing him as he folded his hands and waited for me to continue.

“What did someone need from you that you were unable to give?”

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