Trigger Warning: Depression, PTSD, physical/emotional abuse, anxiety

This time, since Andy was still required a psychiatrist, someone came to his room rather than having him sit in an office. It wasn't Dr Alonso, Andy was glad to discover, but rather a woman who gave a soft smile upon entering and who closed the door behind herself so that it barely made a sound. 

Sitting in one of two chairs, she rested an open notebook on her knees and a pen on top of that, said, "Hi, Andy. I'm Abigail. I heard about your last therapy session, I'm sorry you had to experience that. I thought it would make you a little more comfortable to talk in here, is that okay?" 

Andy already liked her much more than Dr Alonso, preferred her tone and way of speaking, the way she had barely been in the room two minutes and was already checking he was okay with her plans. He gave a short nod. 

"Great. I understand how stressful this is. If at any point you need me to leave, please do let me know. If speaking out is difficult for you, I like to use hand gestures to help with communication. So, if you need to be on your own, this - " With her hand level with her chin, she moved it as though wiping a surface, "- will let me know. Is that okay?"

Andy nodded again. 

"Alright. I saw someone leaving your room as I was collecting notes from your doctor, is he a friend?" 

Whether friend was the right way to describe it, Andy didn't know, but just nodded in response. 

"I'm glad you've got company while you're here. Is it okay if I ask you some questions about how you're doing here? If you don't want to answer any, you absolutely don't have to. Just shake your head and we'll move on." 

"Okay," Andy said. 

Abigail smiled and glanced down at her notebook. "So, Andy - I'm sorry, I should have checked you're okay being called Andy rather than Andrew?"

He nodded. 

"Andy, perfect. Okay. How are you finding it here?" 

"Uh..." He looked around the room, scattered with magazine clippings and comics that Remington had gone to his house to get after a lengthy conversation, following the singer's sleep, about Batman - a topic that Remington admittedly knew little about. That didn't matter, Andy was just happy to be able to discuss it with somebody who didn't think it childish. "It's okay," he answered quietly. 

Abigail hummed. "Okay. And when your doctor transferred you to this unit, how did you feel about that?" 

"I-I guess it's-it's, uh-sorry." 

"It's okay, take your time." 

"I guess it's, uh, like, best." 

"The best for you?" 

Andy nodded hesitantly. 

"Are you feeling different now than you were when you came to hospital? Better or worse, would you say?" 

"Better." 

"That's good." She paused to write on the page. "Now, Andy, this next question is a little personal, so it's completely okay if you don't want to answer." 

"Okay." 

"Could you tell me a little bit about what brought you here? Any events, maybe, that lead up to this? Of course, only if you want to." 

Andy held his gaze on his hands for a while before saying, "He-I-I texted, uh, I texted Remington, uh, because-because I was-I thought I was gonna, uh, gonna die." 

"Okay. And did Remington call you an ambulance?" 

"Yes." 

"Did you want him to?" 

"I don't know." 

"That's okay. Can I ask why you thought you were going to die? Was it a physical injury?" 

"Yes, uh..." Thinking back to that day, splayed across the floor at the bottom of the stairs with a mouth full of blood and a numbing body, Andy had to swallow to settle his stomach. Whispering, he admitted, "I made him mad." 

Abigail frowned. "Who's 'him'? Remington? Or someone else?" 

"Not Remington," Andy said quickly. 

"Okay. Did you get yourself into a fight?" 

"No. Sorry. Uh, maybe. I don't-I don't know." 

"Did this person get angry with you a lot?" 

Andy bit his bottom lip, felt the familiar sensation of tears coming to his eyes. He just nodded again. 

"I'm sorry you went through that, Andy. Is he still in your life now?" 

"Jail." 

"He's in jail. Okay. I'm glad to hear that. Am I right in assuming you were in a relationship with him?" 

"Uh, yeah." 

"How long did that go on for?" 

"Nine years." 

"And he hurt you all that time?" 

"Sorry." 

"You've done nothing wrong. It's really hard to talk about, I know it is. You're doing so well. So, when Remington called you an ambulance, that was when this relationship ended?" 

"Sorry, no. Uh, I was...I didn't go to court. I said-I said he was, uh, innocent. I did so bad, I...I don't-I-sorry. I'm sorry." Covering his face with his hands, he expected her to laugh or scold him for his mistake, but instead, she said: 

"A court case is a horrible thing to have to go through as the victim, I understand. It's not your fault, Andy. I know you must have been worried about upsetting your partner. You've absolutely nothing to apologise for. I think we're going to stop here for today. Is that okay with you?" 

Andy nodded and dropped his hands into his lap. 

"How was it this time? Better than your last experience?" 

"Uh, yes. Thank you." 

"I'm glad. I really hope I can help you. Out of curiosity, is it Remington I saw leaving earlier?" 

"Yeah." 

"Very cool styles you both have. I'll see you in a few days, Andy. You've done really well today, I hope you know that." Standing, Abigail smiled in his direction. "Have a nice afternoon." 

"Thank you. You too." 

Andy watched her leave, noticed, as he had when she entered, who careful she was with closing the door. Once she was gone, he picked up his phone and sent a text to Remington. 

Andy: See you tomorrow? 

Remington: You know it. Bringing muffins I made. Be there at ten. Don't miss me too much x 

Andy: I already do :/

Remington: You're so cute, I love you 

Andy stared at that for some time wondering whether Remington meant it before he daringly replied. 

Andy: Me too. I love you too.