"So Oliver, how was going back to work today?" asked the therapist.

"It was the same as it always was," Oliver replied.

"My that sounded perhaps a bit rehearsed if I dare say so," the therapist chuckled. "Were you anticipating that question?"

"More like I have been asked it several times today and already knew the answer."

"And how does it feel to have been asked that question so many times today? Perhaps you found it annoying?"

"I don't see any point in asking," Oliver shrugged.

The therapist looked at him for a moment, which Olvier had learned by now was her way of politely prompting him to elaborate further, but he always refused to take that bait. Also, if he had wanted to say more, he would have; no amount of awkward silence and staring and smiling would make him surrender.

"Why do you not see the point in that question?" she asked, giving in.

"I just don't," Oliver replied unhelpfully.

The therapist's smile faltered a moment, twitching at the corners. "Well, perhaps people are asking because they are concerned about your well-being. After going through something like you have, going back to normalcy and adjusting can be difficult."

"I was only gone for an hour. I don't need any adjustment period; in fact, I would say being forced time off made it more difficult and the only reason why I would need an adjustment period."

"So you feel it would have been easier for you if you got straight back to work after the incident?"

Shit, I revealed too much. Oliver stiffened in his seat. "Like I said, I saw no point in having time off. I did not need it. I could have gotten back to work straight away."

"Do you like your job, Oliver?" she asked.

Oliver swallowed. "I like keeping a routine and not wasting time. Having those weeks off was unnecessary, a waste of time."

The therapist's eyes narrowed slightly, then jotted something down quickly on her notepad. Had she noticed that he had attempted to evade the question? Or was this just a scare tactic to get him to confess more? Either way, he would not relent. These sessions may be mandatory so he could return to work, but perhaps they would be done sooner once they finally fucking realised that he was fine. Because he was fine. He didn't need any therapy or evaluation since he was only gone for an hour. And he was fine.

"Tell me about your routine," said the therapist. "What was a typical day for you before the incident?"

The incident Oliver always wanted to laugh whenever she referred to it as that, instead of just saying openly what happened each time: 'before he was kidnapped by a human-eating giant monster', or 'drugged by a likely group of human traffickers', whatever story you believed. But perhaps that was the reason, and that it was because the incident was nicknamed the Snickelway kidnappings; who could take something like that seriously?

Oliver humoured her question, listing his routine in detail, hoping that it would fill up the time and perhaps bore her. He began with the exact time his alarm would go off, what he would have for breakfast on specific days, when he showered, brushed his teeth, got changed, and then headed off to the bus stop. He then explained the very first half an hour of work, how he would check his schedule and to-do list, and talk to his team, and then it reached home time. Oliver had to stop for a moment as he thought about it, how finishing work was the best part of his day, not because of the obvious reasons but because of... it had been because of Cody. And now that part of the routine was gone. He couldn't fully return to normalcy.

It may have been only routine for about a month, but it was his favourite part of his routine despite its inconsistency with Cody's changing work schedule and when he could pick him up. They would finish work at roughly the same time, and Cody would wait for Oliver in his car outside the office, and they would get drive-thru coffee; Oliver always the same drink, Cody always a different drink, and then they would take the leisurely and scenic route back home, talking anything, everything, or nothing. That was the routine.

"And then I would get a coffee before heading home," Oliver eventually continued explaining, leaving out, of course, the more important detail of his routine in the afternoon, that a certain person would normally be present.

After jotting some notes down, his therapist asked, "and today, did you manage to go back to your routine completely? Or were there any differences?"

"No, the same as it always was. Get up, get ready, work, finish work, get coffee, go home," replied Oliver.

Yes, Cody wasn't there.

"Is there anything about your routine that you want to change?"

"No, it's perfect; no need to change it."

Yes, to have Cody back.

"Is there anything that seems more difficult now?"

"No, like riding a bike."

Yes, going home because Cody is... Cody is... is...

"Having a routine can provide a lot of comfort," said his therapist. "And if you stick to it with such discipline, straying off it or being forced to can be quite scary or cause discomfort. Change is already difficult to deal with sometimes, and so someone who is so strict to routine, change is perhaps a horrifying opponent."

Oliver remained silent, though she was looking at him again, prompting to respond perhaps, but she gave no clear indication on what matter he had to reply about.

"In each session, Oliver, you appear to dismiss what has happened to you," she continued. "That it was only for an hour you were kidnapped. And I will still repeat myself, even if I sound like a broken record and you find me annoying, but your feelings about what happened are valid."

Oliver sat stiffly in his seat, still silent, still stony-faced.

"Yes, you may want to compare your experience to the other survivors who were there longer, especially since one of your friends was a part of it, Cody..."

Oliver swallowed, his jaw unclenching for a moment.

"You may think that your hour does not compare to his three weeks of being missing and that your experience is 'nothing', but every pain, no matter how long it lasted or how severe, is still pain."

Oliver wondered how many times she would repeat this each session but was impressed by how she paraphrased and changed the wording, adding something new each time to make it feel fresh.

"It was an hour of something horrible happening to you, Oliver."

Like always, she avoided saying specifics since it would imply he was crazy to believe that a giant human-eating monster existed and kidnapped him.

"And it would affect anyone, even just that amount of time. So please, Oliver, perhaps you may or may not feel that that experience affected you. But at the very least, I would hope that you are honest and not dismiss help just because it seems insignificant compared to the other survivors. These sessions will soon fly by..."

They don't seem like it, thought Oliver.

"And for the moment, they are free, so I do suggest using them wisely." She cleared her throat. "But if you would rather we talk about something else entirely to fill the time or simply sit here in silence, that is also up to you."

Really? Could he just sit here in silence? Was that allowed? But these sessions were mandatory as a means for him to return to work.

"Do you not need to report any of this to my work?" Oliver asked.

"It is all confidential," she replied. "Though if I do find anything of concern, I can suggest to them to give you more time off, or if you need more sessions, they would, of course, not be out of your own pocket."

"I don't need time off."

She smiled slightly in response.

Oliver let out a quiet sigh. He wondered if she was trying to tell him that he needed to cooperate more; otherwise, he would just have to endure more of these sessions.

"I know that talking to people about how you feel, let alone about traumatic experiences, is difficult to navigate, so perhaps instead of talking to me, in the meantime, perhaps writing would help?"

"Writing?"

"Yes, like a diary or journal, write your feelings, or write anything; it can be therapeutic. And you don't have to show me any of it, of course, they can be private. Sometimes writing helps you discover your mind more than talking."

"How will you know I've done it then if I don't show you?" Oliver frowned.

"I suppose you can lie that you have done it." She shrugged. "You could also lie in these sessions when speaking to me; I won't be able to tell."

Oliver's frown deepened. She would be able to tell, wouldn't she? But he hadn't been lying in the sessions, perhaps a bit of omission here and there, but they were details that weren't relevant, just to avoid having to explain something.

"As I said, Oliver, it is up to you how you wish to spend these sessions," she said. "Feel free to write in your spare time or not, to talk or not, but please just don't dismiss help if deep down you know you may need it."