A young man laid down on the tan sofa. His curly brown hair rested against the light brown and tan pillow while he kept his eyes closed.The small room he was in kept him thinking. From the decorations to the layout of this place, it made him feel uneasy.
His right arm was behind his head while his left arm was in a sling resting on his chest.
The outside injuries were finally starting to heal. However, the ones on the inside were not.
Across from him was an old man with grey hair holding a notebook in his hand. Adjusting his gla.s.ses he gave a light cough.
"Tell me, how are you doing?"
"Same as last week, there hasn"t been a change."
The young man sprung up and opened his eyes. He stared at the old man in front of him.
"Why are we still having these sessions? You ask me a question and then I answer the same way as i"ve done for the last past two months. You"re trying to get me to open up, but there"s nothing to talk about."
"I concur. How"d you get those injuries?"
The young man looked at his injured arm. His blue shirt was hiding the bruises on his body, but he could still feel them.
"You already know how I got them. What"s the point in asking a question you already know? I got them during the demon invasion in Ohio."
"Do you know who gave them to you? The name of the thing you fought against?"
"No."
"How about the thing that saved your life?"
"No."
The old man sighed as he set down his notebook on the coffee table in front of him.
"Listen, i"m not your enemy and I might not be your ally but that doesn"t mean you can"t talk about what you experienced."
"Tell me why you want to know?"
"Are you honestly asking me that? It"s my job for one and I believe that whatever you experienced is not any different from all the others that survived that day. Each and every one of them are suffering, but they talk and find ways to deal with it. You just bottle it up and lock it away. That is dangerous.
Previously, one of my clients was like you. Answering everything the same way, not giving an inch. Our sessions continued for three years, but it didn"t matter. My client ended up pushing away all those that cared about them. I believe that they were lonely when that happened. They felt that it was their fault and the world was against them. Eventually, they blamed themselves for what happened in their past. The pain, sorrow, and agony drove them mad. They let their emotions get the better of them and became a demon.
The demon"s rage grew and grew until it caused pain to all those around it. Destroying everything it could get its hands on, without having a regret.
Every night when I go to sleep, that same client appears in my head. Asking me, why didn"t you try harder? Why didn"t I see through their suffering? Why"d I let them go through everything alone?
That is what taunts me. It drives me forward to be a better person, a better therapist. I don"t want anything like that to happen again, so please help me help you."
The old man explained to the young brown curly haired man. From the look in his eyes, one could tell that he was begging the young man to open it. His heart couldn"t take it if another person like before appeared.
The young man looked up at the ceiling.
Images flashed through his head as he closed his eyes.
"I"ll tell you… about why i"m here. The real reason i"m in j.a.pan. If you want to know, then I have to start from the beginning."
The old man"s eyes seemed to shine with delight as he grabbed his notebook.
The young man reached across the table and stopped the old man.
"No. No notebooks, no recording. Just listen."
The old man nodded his head and set the notebook back down.
"Whatever you need Nick."