Finding Trace

                                    

                                          
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"So how long have you been seeing these things?" 
                          
I raised my head from my hands and slowly looked up at the woman behind the desk. Her face was expressionless as she held onto my gaze with calculation as she positioned her hands to scribble any looney thing I had to say. 
                          
I breathed in and out slowly feeling agitated all of a second.
                          
"That's the first question you're gonna ask me?"I questioned raising a brow. I also felt that my hands were beginning to clench and unclench with the pressure that was building in them.
                          
She straightened up and her expression changed in an instant to one of total discontentment and horror.
                          
"I do not like that tone, if you'd just co-operate things would be a lot easier. Your parents obviously put a lot of income into finding you these therapists and the least you can do is have some respect." she "scolded" taking a moment to shake her head.
                          
I laughed, leaning back into the arm rest of the chair I was currently occupying, stretching my feet against the chair of the other. "They're filthy rich, a thousand dollars wouldn't mean much." I tilted my head back laughing. "You're not gonna last a day with me honey," I passed a wink her way.
                          
"Besides, I know about your secret." I turned to face her just to make sure I was right about what I was going to expose. I took in her appearance. She was of average weight, maybe bordering it a little. She looked to be about forty five due to the age lines on her forehead. Her skin was not as youthful also and her entire way of dressing clued me to that allegation. 
                          
Her eyebrow raised due to my recent words.
                          
"I know you were the lady that my dad screwed when him and my mom were going through problems and I also know that he paid you more than what you deserve to be my therapist." I made sure I drew out each word slowly and clear as possible and with each word, I saw obvious signs of guilt clouding her body language. 
                          
I would normally be the one to care at least about what my parents did, but that was the old me. What's the sense of caring for two people who don't even care for themselves? My parents knew they were never compatible and I think it all originated from the fact that their marriage was more of a business thing. My dad owned a insurance company and my mom at the time needed to be known for her job so to increase her chances, she teamed up with my dad. It actually disgusts me that they never went out of their way to tell me this, and the fact that I had to hear from people at my school was disturbing.
                          
There was never love between them and when I came along, I also heard from people that they even considered abortion but my mom's side of the family was appalled and stood against it. 
                          
Most times I acted clueless as if I wasn't aware of any of this but damn did it feel good to unleash that from my mind and tell my therapist of the day even though she was like the fiftieth one I'd passed through.
                          
Since the school had all this on me, and knew more about my life than I did, that often left me to be more of the loner. Not that it bugged me about being alone 24/7, being almost eighteen and not having a serious relationship, or the rare fact that my teachers seemed to share no care for me,I wasn't the type to draw pity on myself.