Page 139 of Raw

“Your mother told me that you’ve been to a therapist when you were younger, is that true?”

I had made myself comfortable on the couch, with my feet propped up and crossed at the ankles and my arms behind my head.

“Didn’t know you had the right to talk with my mother about my past.”

Mrs. Irvine smiled and sat down on her chair, picking up the clipboard she had written notes on when she was talking to Vespyr.

“If I understood correctly, you never actually had a real session with that therapist. She didn’t get to the bottom of your problems.”

I raised a brow at her. “What problems?”

She studied me for a moment, keeping that smug smile on her face the whole damn time. “I understand that it’s hard to admit to the things you’ve done to your father and sister, but that’s why you’re here, right? Why don’t we start at the very beginning? Tell me about your childhood.”

“No.”

“Fennec,” she sighed, then cleared her throat. “Your sister did well telling me about her childhood and she mentioned a few things I know you remember too. It would help me figure things out, knowing your side of the story.”

This wasn’t about Vespyr.

She shouldn’t even bring her and what she had told her up.

But to get this over with, I decided to just cooperate.

“My childhood was normal. It was fun and Vespyr was with me no matter what.”

“And is she someone that makes you feel better or worse when she’s around?”

What kind of question was that?

“I feel like shit when she’s not around.”

“And how do you think she feels like when you’re around?”

I laughed. “She feels best when I’m with her. She adores me, and I can’t let anyone else get too close to her. She’d be lost without me.”

Mrs. Irvine was already noting some things on her board, and while she did, I looked out the window to watch the snow fall.

It was almost mid-January, but the snow would keep falling.

“Have you ever been mad at her? Has there ever been moments you two fought about something?”

“Never.”

“Never?”

I shook my head. “But she’s been mad at me before.”

“When?”

Shrugging, I kept my eyes on the big window. “That day I pushed Papa.”

No need to keep it a secret.

Mama had told her anyway.

Probably to warn her about her sick children.

“And how did it make you feel when she was mad at you?”

---