Trigger Warning: Mentions of abuse, depression, PTSD, anxiety, self-harm, eating disorder/weight

Being back in hospital with a tube made it feel like the previous day had never happened. 

Andy was introduced to Abigail, who had been called in without notice since Remington's situation was now being considered 'urgent', some convinced that the self-harm was a failed suicide attempt. Andy was almost certain that it wasn't; it was Holly's power over Remington that made him do it. She had programmed him into being unable to sleep without fulfilling the routine of 'punishment before bed.' Like a kid who needed a glass of milk before bed, Remington couldn't function without the familiarity of her rules, her rituals. Co-dependence was what came to Andy's mind, followed by the unsettling Stockholm Syndrome. 

"What's your relation to Remington?" Abigail asked. As someone entering the situation with no background knowledge, she was anxious to learn as much about him as she could before attempting to have a conversation with him. The more she knew, the better she could tailor her words into sentences that would soothe him. 

"We were together a few years ago," Andy told her. "We got pretty serious for a while, spent most of our time together." 

"And once you broke things off, did you maintain contact?" 

Andy shook his head. "We're both in bands so we're moving around constantly for tours and photo-shoots and whatever else. We ended things mutually, so there were no hard feelings or anything, we just kinda reached the natural end." 

She was noting things down. "When did you get back in contact with him?" 

"Literally like two weeks ago. He came into my band's studio to record a verse in one of our songs and I noticed he was bleeding. Turned out there were all these cuts on his arm, and I guess I caught him in a weak moment because he told me what was going on pretty much straight away." 

"Okay, I assume by 'what was going on', you're referring to the case of domestic abuse filed against his girlfriend." 

"Yeah." 

"Do you know much about their relationship?" 

"They were together for around two years as far as I'm aware. She was making him cut himself every night, called it 'punishment', and wouldn't let him eat anything. And he's always been a quiet person, you know, not big on physical contact or anything. More comfortable when others are at a distance, so having her be so controlling has really fucked him up."

"Sure," Abigail said. "I imagine he's not handling things well since her arrest." 

Andy nodded. "Completely ruined him." 

"Okay. Thank you for the information, Andy. It's appreciated. I'll do what I can to help him, okay. As for everything we've spoken about, I won't bring it up, at least not until he's gotten to know me. I wanted to know what was going on so I could better help, but he needs to be the one to tell me by himself without feeling pressured. You understand?" 

"Yes, of course. I was thinking the same thing." 

After his talk with Abigail, Andy returned to the hospital waiting room, expecting to see Remington's brothers, but they weren't there. Remington must have asked them not to be contacted, which was no surprise. They'd be of no use, coming in and getting angry because he didn't tell them first. They reminded Andy of children arguing over who started it first, unable to take any situation seriously because they were too egotistical to think with some common sense. 

* * * 

Abigail went into the room quietly. She closed the door without letting it slam, and sat down on the small blue couch that was against the wall, a metre or so from the bed. Distance was his comfort zone, so distance, she would provide.  "Hiya, Remington," she said. "It's okay if you don't recognise me. I'm Abigail. I'm your therapist." 

Remington was sat up in bed with a magazine in his lap. "No, I remember," he said. "You were going to get in contact about session times. Did I miss an email or something? Is that why you're here?" 

"No, not at all. Nothing's been sent yet. I've just come in because I heard you're having a hard time and I want to be able to help you through it. Does that sound okay?" 

"Help me?" 

She nodded.

"With what?" 

"Well, I understand you've been struggling to eat enough, and that you harmed yourself quite badly last night. I'd like to help you to recover from these unhealthy habits." 

Remington observed her for at least a minute without speaking. His face was troubled, his posture tense. "Unhealthy habits," he echoed eventually. "How will you help?" 

"We'll talk about what causes you to harm yourself and we'll work through it so that you can find healthy ways to cope with whatever it is that's been making you feel this way." 

"How...How will talking help?" 

"It'll give you the chance to share things that are upsetting you, and like I said the last time we met, I'm trained in dealing with individuals with a number of mental disorders including depression, so I would be providing you with advice and perhaps little activities that might help you cope better."

"I have depression?" 

"That's something we would discuss, and I'll give you an official diagnosis once I got to know you better." 

He looked away from her and back at the magazine in his lap. "So it's like...Having a friend who knows loads about how the mind works?" 

"Yeah, you can look it like that. Our sessions wouldn't be very formal. You could come in wearing a onesie or whatever, it'd be very relaxed, and we'd only talk about what you feel comfortable talking about. I'm here primarily to benefit you." 

"What if I decided it wasn't worth it or I didn't like you?" 

"Then you could bring this up and we'd decided the best option going forward. Like I said, it's primarily to benefit you, and if you felt like were were getting nowhere, then I'd make sure to put you in contact with someone who you might feel better suited for. Does that make sense?" 

Remington nodded. 

"Now, I don't want to cause you any sort of discomfort by discussing anything too 'deep' today, as you hardly know me and I don't expect you to trust me yet, but if there's anything you'd like to talk about, or any questions you have, please do bring them up." 

He thought for a moment, then asked, "What do I do about my brothers hating me?" 

"Why do you think they hate you?" 

"Last time I was here, Sebastian - he's the one who's older than me - came in and had a go 'cause I don't tell him every little detail of my life as they happened." 

"Have you seen Sebastian today?" 

"No. I told them not to call him." 

"Because you're worried he'll be rude to you again?" 

Remington shrugged. "Probably." 

"It sounds like he's worried and unable communicate it in a calm manner." 

"Or he's just a huge cunt," he huffed. "So I should talk to him, you mean?" 

"Yeah, I think it would be worth a try." 

"Even if it goes wrong?" 

"Sometimes you have to take risks in order to get the best outcome." 

"But not all the time," Remington mumbled. "How often will I see you?" 

"Well, we'll start with an hour a week and see how that goes. Then we can alter it depending on how you feel about it." 

"Okay." 

"Our first 'proper' session will be next Tuesday, unless that doesn't work for you, and will be at my home, since I find it's nicer for individuals to sit in a homely environment, rather than a clinical room. Is that okay for you?" 

He nodded. She noticed he was perking up and relaxing. 

"Perfect. The times and address and anything else you need to know will be sent through on an email in the next couple of days. You're not required to respond, but if you have any further questions or worries about it, please do let me know." 

"Okay." 

"I'll see you on Tuesday, Remington. You've done really well today. I understand it can be scary talking to someone new about such personal things so I want you to know that you've taken a big step in the right direction." 

"Oh. Thank you." 

She smiled and got up, said, "Take care. I'll see you later." 

Remington looked back at the magazine and smiled.