“That's a lot to unpack, Henry. Quite a few crosses to bear. Why don't we focus on one at a time, shall we? Let's talk about the alcohol.” I said. It took every ounce of effort to keep my composure. Henry seemed deflated when I directed the conversation down this avenue. Reluctantly he adhered. “What do you want me to say? I drink. I need it. Can't live without. Don't want to. It helps me ease the pain.” “And you don't think that's contributing to your current problem of being lost?” “Contributing? It's the only thing that's helping. If it weren't for the liquor, I'd have absolutely nothing left!” I felt my teeth grinding at his omission. “But you don't think the liquor played a part in that?” I said. My tone was much more aggressive then I'd have liked it to be. I was sitting up, straight as an arrow, staring transfixed on Henry Price. “No! The drink has nothing to do with it, okay? My wife passed and now my daughter won't even speak a word to me. That's the root of my problems!” “Well what about before your wife passed? Did you or did you not already have issue with drinking?” Henry sat up so that he could turn and look my way. We were staring at each other, no longer hiding behind pretense. “So I like to have a drink every now and then,” he said ruefully. “So what? Everyone does. It's normal, ain't it?” “Normal,” I said my teeth clenched. “Is not consuming a bottle of whiskey a day. Normal is drinking one bottle of beer, not an entire case every single day.” He was shouting now. “You don't get to say what's what! You think you know so much! But you don't! You don't know what it's like to lose a wife and have your own daughter cut you out of their life!” I couldn't take it anymore. “No, but I know what it's like to lose a mom!” I gave him a seething gaze. “And you know what? I also know what it feels like to lose a dad.” “I'm. Right. Here!” He bellowed. “You're not!” I was yelling now, nearly at the top of my lungs. “Don't you dare try to pretend you're you. We both know what you've become and I won't have it! I told you- I told you! You either kick your drinking habit to the curb or never speak to me again.” “I lost your mother! Don't you know how hard this is for me?” “No! You were drinking long before she died. Don't give me that crap! You did this! You did this with your drinking! She's gone because of it!” The shouting match had reached such a crescendo that Ivy had to interrupt our session. She crashed through the door, a mortified look on her face. “W-what is going on here!? I can hear you from outside the building! The next client has excused herself!” We both turned to her and felt her ire cast upon us. Our heads hung low and we both offered a sheepish apology of sorts. “I knew this was a bad idea,” Ivy said. “Your open door policy should not have extended towards family. You should have known better! If you two can't continue this conversation peacefully, then I'm going to have to end this meeting immediately.” Henry-my father-apologized as best he could. “I won't be a bother anymore, I just need to get some stuff off my chest.” “Then keep your voices down.” She said. Before she left, she shot me a withering gaze that told me her message went doubly so for me.

“He's here, your 10 o'clock,” Ivy said to me. She hovered at the door for a moment and I caught the look on her face. She was anxious- for me. “Do you need anything?” I braced myself, gripping the handles of my chair. In that moment my mind had gone blank, I didn't know what I needed. Instead I swallowed and did my best to act normal. “No thank you. I'm ready to accept the patient.” I wasn't and we both knew that. I knew she was concerned for me, but she said nothing. Instead she nodded as she excused herself, leaving me alone in my dim lit office. My thoughts ran rampant then. Why did I allow anyone or anything access to my counseling services? My slogan was “Whoever you are, it doesn't matter, my door is always open. Therapy is for everyone. Rich or poor, good or bad, lawyers, doctors, homeless, criminals.”, all these attributes didn't matter, I only wanted to see individuals seeking help and guidance. In retrospect, it had been a wild gambit that drew in the most outlandish of clientele. Some came to me, speaking of their woes, how their problems torment them every day. Some shared their petty squabbles. Some told me the heartache that came with their loved ones leaving them. Some told me the emptiness that accompanies them in their lives. I let anyone in through my doors, listening to their issues. My notoriety grew because of it. Everyone was welcomed. I was regretting that decision now. A moment later, Ivy returned, a old aged man following close behind her. I saw him then, really saw him, and I could feel my skin grow cold. There was nothing ostentatious about him, no rimmed horns at his temple, no flames spouting from his eyes, just a simple man who had been long in the tooth and had a notable limp to his gait. He filled me with a terror unlike any of my patients before. And let's just say I had given counsel to demons from hades. “Please,” I said, motioning with my hand towards the empty seat. “Is there anything we can get you before we begin, Mr. Price?” He spoke with a nervous energy about him, “No, no need to trouble yourselves. Your lovey assistant here already offered me some water. That's enough for me.” He sounded nervous. Scared even. It made me all the more tense. “And uh- if it's alright you can just call me Henry.” I gave a cursory nod but said nothing. When he made for the seat, I subconsciously gripped my pen so hard that my knuckles began to burn. Breathe, I reminded myself. Just breathe. “So, Henry. What is it you'd like to talk about today?” He leaned back, the dim lights of the room obscuring his face. I could make out the deepening lines that age had left him, he looked haggard, ancient even. “You know, I'm not quite sure how to begin. I've never done this before.” He admitted with a shy chuckle. “That's alright. It's common really, no one ever knows how to address the issue right away.” “Even the criminals?” He asked. “I figured those heartless souls wouldn't-“ He was talking about other clients. Privileged clients. I stopped him there. “That is not for discussion, Mr. Price. This session is about you and nothing else.” “Oh! Of course, of course how stupid of me. I'm so sorry.” I stifled the heat that began to rise in my cheeks. “No matter. Why don't you tell me what you're feeling right now?” He took a moment to dwell on his thoughts. When he was ready, he said. “I'm just- I'm just feeling lost is all.” “Lost?” “Yeah. Lost. Don't really know what I'm doing with my life anymore.” I began scribbling notes on my pad. “I see. Is it too painful for you to discuss?” “I- a little bit. But I suppose this is why I'm here.” “Then if you don't mind, let's explore that feeling. Why are you feeling lost, Henry?” I leaned in closer as he sucked in a deep breath. I could see the splotches of liver spots on his mottled skin. “Well, ever since my wife passed, everything in my life got turned upside down-“ I felt my muscles clenching but said nothing. “Nothing feels right anymore. I'm always so alone. I've been drinking more, damn near drink myself silly every night.” He said. The flood gates were beginning to open and his woes were flowing. “I um, I try to reach out- to my only daughter. She wants nothing to do with me. Not since my wife passed.” I could feel the heat coursing through my veins. When I tried to speak, I felt the phlegm in my throat. I sputtered, forcing myself to take a swig of water.

She looked up at the dull, dark, gray sky. It still looked calm, fitting how she was feeling completely. Numb, broken, alone despite the people around her. This was her fault though, she had let an opportunity go far away from her grasp. She had it, she lost it then now she craves it, but it's all too late now. It had all started a few months ago, back in the beginning of spring. She had left her house in the morning to go to her best friend's house, Janice, to take care of her kids while she went away on a business trip for the weekend. As she drove down the street she remembered the conversation she had with her mother the night before. They had started out with a normal conversation about how her family back home was doing, not failing to mention that her sister, Emily, was getting married soon and that they wanted her to be the maid of honor. She had agreed, explaining that she would go home for a while that coming week. Feeling the horrible question coming she tried to ease the conversation away but it had been asked since as long as she can remember. "When are you getting married?"Niki sighed. She got tired of having people ask her that all the time. So what if she didn't get married. What if she wanted to be alone? What if she was happy without having someone by her side? Her thoughts were suddenly interrupted by her phone ringing. "Hello?" "Niki? When are you getting here my plane leaves in an hour.” "Oh hello to you too Jani. I'm here so can you please open the door." And she hung up. A few seconds passed when the large mahogany door opened with Janice standing by the entrance of the door. The house looked average on the outside with the white walls and stone foundation, the landscape making it look much more lived in. Nikki walked in glancing around the already familiar home. The high ceiling lights were on allowing a warm undertone cast on her furniture and throughout the house. White walls decorated with pictures of family and friends, making it feel like home, which in a way it should be.

‘When you hear the words I love you, what comes to mind? In my opinion, the words are meaningless unless proven otherwise with actions. If their actions don't match up to their words then what would you believe? I was quite young, around the age of 10, when this question first came to my mind, especially since I lived in that type of family situation for all of my childhood. I had picked up and noticed how, in many occasions, someone would say I love you but then you turn around and they would cause you harm, in ways that you don't always expect to happen. In most cases I would get punished for something I didn't do or was out of my control. They would come home at night after a day of work and my first thought would be are they angry? Why would a young child of 5 or 6 have to ask themselves if they're in a bad mood or angry, having to walk around on broken glass every time they would come home? Now I'm not saying that in every household this situation is the same, it isn't. This is just my experience coming from that background. I let those things happen because I wasn't strong enough to protect myself. I would think to myself, do they really love me? Do they truly think of me as their own? I remember those nights when I would sit and cry on my bed after they would come home in a rage ready to take it out on someone. I would hide my sisters in our room and wait for the screaming and yelling to stop before I stepped foot outside. Sometimes I would be unfortunate enough to be on the other side of those words, useless, worthless, you'll never amount to anything. In my head I heard those words repeated over and over again, until that's all I saw, all I heard. No matter how much physical pain I felt, those words inflicted more pain in me than I would of ever imagined. Having experienced that throughout my life was an eye opener. I never learned to trust, but when I did, I was always let down. There is goes again, useless, worthless, you'll never amount to anything.Tears spilled more frequently than not until I ran out of tears to spill. Every time I heard words fall out of their mouths, they were empty. No emotion, no truth, no reality. When people would speak to me their words had no meaning because of the look in their eyes and how they judged me like I was nothing but trash in their way. So when I heard I love you's they meant nothing, empty words just like empty promises. As I got older of course words kept being the same and eyes never changed. I've learned to read into emotions, actions, pinpoint the real meaning behind their words. I've taken care of myself so that others won't have to. That's what made me who I am today. I'm not the only one who has been through this, and I'm certainly not the last one either. Have open ears and open hearts, listen to the silent cries that seep out in every moment of their lives.' “That was quite a story, how long did all that last?” the interviewer's eyes shining in curiosity as she egged Melanie on to speak more of her experience. With a curt smile she proceeded with a nod. “Well, it lasted until I turned 16, after that I rarely talked and didn't really entertain them with my reactions. I went to school, hung out with my friends and then went home straight to my room. Normally I rarely spoke to them only curt responses to their questions.”