____________________________________

____________________________________

"Ay, fuck off!" Kinsey exclaims while running over to the two teammates entangling in a brawl as the rest of the team huddles around them in a crooked circle formation. Their broad shoulders coupled with the shoulder pads they have on create an impenetrable wall of great mass.

The blonde strategically uses her shoulder pads to elbow her way through the Great Wall of protein-fueled boys. Once making it through to the middle of the circle, Kinsey kneels down to grab the hem of the smaller kid's jersey while he pathetically squirms on the field, ruining his perfectly new jersey. The mouth-piece connected to his helmet dangles out as he breathlessly continues his verbal attack on the target of his wrath.

Kinsey yanks the new kid on the team away from their best corner linebacker, Abraham Mitchels. The dude is built like a literal truck with the size of his lat muscles being enough to even challenge The Rock. With Kinsey's knowledge of Mitchels' ability and obvious size, she intensifies her grip on the arm of the scrawny new-kid. I'm doing you a favor, kid. He resists with each pull away as she continues to drag him like a rag doll away from the monster truck of a boy whose nostrils are visibly flaring with great rage from across the patchy field of grass.

The two boys grunt in their separation. Some other players step in and hold Mitchels back as much as they can to the opposite end of the field, leaving the new-kid to Kinsey.

The teammates berate Mitchels with statements such as "He ain't even worth it bro", "he's a pussy, he has nothing on you", "calm down, dude." Every statement that could possibly stroke a teenage boy's ego is being spewed by multiple teammates.

Meanwhile, on the other side of the field, Kinsey rolls her eyes at the redhead sitting slouched at her feet named, Julian? No, Ricky... or was it Lucas?

Kinsey still can't quite remember his name but all she knows is that he is adding to her already pissed-off mood. They don't pay her enough, or at all for the matter to be looking after these numskulls. Be team captain. It'd be fun, they said.

Once the other players get Mitchels far enough away from Kinsey and the new-kid, the blonde positions herself in front of the curly-haired redhead sitting with his legs spread out on the floor, his face flushed red with sweat beads littering his abnormally large forehead. Damn, he has a big ass forehead, Kinsey takes notes as she observes the boy who had barely reached puberty. The bright neon orange bands in his braces and the small size of his facial features give away his newbie essence and immaturity.

"Do we have a fucking problem?" Kinsey snipes in a low, conniving tone, viewing her reflection in his glossy, dour brown eyes.

"Actually," he starts in a high-pitched tone, catching Kinsey off-guard by how squeaky his voice is. "We do have a problem. Your little friend over there is a prick. He accused me of dying my hair. Like, how dare he say that about the hair I was born with. He's got no right," the new-kid banters as Kinsey loosens her grip on him to intensely roll her eyes and drop her head back. I hate it here! Kinsey screams internally at the moronic reason for the intense argument.

The boy then takes the opportunity to stand up, continuing to mope about the audacity of someone to pick on him so unnecessarily. He swats his hands frustratedly at his jersey to wipe away the pieces of grass and dirt.

As the scrawny figure manages to hover over Kinsey due to his naturally tall height, Kinsey sends the boy the most intense glare she can muster as her nostrils start to flare. You've got to be butt-fucking kidding me?

Kinsey didn't know how this sophomore made it on the Varsity team in the middle of the year, but she presumes his daddy is one of the team's largest sponsor. Sponsors mean everything for a small-town school like Kingsman Bounty High. The kid had yet to make enough of an impression for Kinsey to even remember his name. Of course until now, as she'll most definitely remember him but not for any good reasons.

"I give you two seconds to get out of my face before I sock you in the throat," the blonde mutters scarily, causing the boy's eyes to widen instantly. He's perfectly aware of Kinsey Scott's reputation and he is not about to have his precious face socked in by the blonde. To that, the boy slowly tip-toes backward with his arms folded behind his back, getting far enough away from the blonde to feel safe.

Kinsey sighs heftily as her patience with everything is scarcely slimming every second she stays here. The pressure with football nationals, being rejected by Jade, dealing with Dr. Khalif, and figuring out who the fuck Zoé is so she can assassinate her, are all weighing her down.

She feels overwhelmed, and for the first time, she's starting to believe that she won't be able to handle it.

And that's what pisses her off the most: the lack of control.

"Practice is over! Get your shit and go! And next time, make sure you come to practice with your limp dicks in your pants instead of having pissing matches," Kinsey stipulates, sending a glare at Mitchels who knew better than to piss her off, especially on a Thursday. The giant cowers at Kinsey's intense gaze with his head slowly bowing in shame from across the field.

Thursday's were especially fun for Kinsey.

"Yes, Kins," the entire group of boys replies in mellow unison with their profoundly deep voices.

The blonde nods and starts to walk down the field with fingers intertwined in the face mask of her helmet, irritated by the dirt in places that dirt shouldn't be in. Her hair is a mess and sweat covers every inch of her body despite the fall winds piercing through every other second.

Her head hangs low as she struts toward the girl's locker room, while the other members of her team hustle over in a herd in the opposite direction towards the boy's locker room.

"Kins! Kins!" someone hollers from a distance.

The blonde immediately raises her head at the sound of Ronald McDonald's voice. What now?

She spots the tall, middle-aged offensive coach with a sleek dark brown tapered cut standing by his office. His stance is lax as he leans against the doorway with his forearm. The man sends Kinsey a fond smile as he beckons the blonde over by waving his hand towards himself.

Kinsey catches the hint, huffing as she pushes her broken-down body to jog over to the man. Everything aches but Kinsey reminds herself that she's been through worse. Kinsey could have sworn her knee made a squeaky sound a couple of seconds ago.

As she makes it over to her coach, she discerns the pity in his eyes and it disgusts her. I hate when people look at me like that.

"You wanna talk?" He nods, giving Kinsey a knowing expression to which she stolidly averts her eyes to brush past the man to step into the small office. The older man presses his lips together after getting hit by Kinsey's left shoulder pad. He can sense Kinsey's state of distress, knowing that something's going on in her mind. He follows in, shutting the door.

Kinsey makes herself comfortable on both of the aging wooden chairs that have cheap green cushions attached to their seats. She sits her bottom on one chair allowing her long legs to stretch across to settle onto the arms of the other chair.

Coach Ronald makes his way around the wide desk as the blonde spreads herself out and makes herself at home. He shakes his head once he sees clumps of dirt fall off of Kinsey's cleats onto his chair.

Kinsey looks unbothered as her brooding eyes focus on playing around with the face mask of her helmet in her hand, playfully poking her fingers through and around the plastic-coated metal bars.

"You haven't been looking too good on the field," Coach Ronald expresses off the bat.

"Thanks for stating the obvious, Ronald." Kinsey pushes her tongue against her cheek as the thought of her shortcomings draws an annoyance out of her.

"Kins, I didn't bring you in here to reprimand you," he declares strongly, "I refuse to sit around and let you get in the way of your future just because your head isn't in the game at the right time," Coach Ronald informs, folding his hands on his desk. He leans in closer with his shoulders straightening out as he shows more concern, scrunching his brows.

"I don't know what to tell you to make you feel any better about your coaching," Kinsey strikes, slightly rolling her eyes.

Coach Ronald drops his head, smirking at how badly Kinsey is deflecting right now. He has become so used to the blonde's harsh banter that it simply makes him laugh now.

"Yeah, I should probably work on my ego, huh?" Coach Ronald inquires, raising one brow in the blonde's direction.

"I mean, if you want our respect you've got to do better, Ronald," Kinsey chastises as if this relationship were the other way around.

The man stifles a chuckle as he slowly nods to the girl's advice. "I'll keep that mind, Kins."

"Now seriously, what did you bring me in for? I know it's not just cause I'm so fun to talk to." Kinsey continues to avoid making eye-contact with him as she preoccupies herself with fidgeting with her fingers. I cut my nails for no reason.

Coach Ronald's expression shifts slightly as he coughs out a sudden frog in his throat. His eyes look away momentarily before looking back at Kinsey's profile as the blonde doesn't bother to look at him. He rubs his palms together, straightening up his shoulders as he sinks the rest of his body into the beige leather office chair. His folded hands professionally set on the table, deviate from the casual manner he possessed merely seconds ago.

"Kinsey, I got word from one of my buddies from 'Bama that they're also looking at someone else as their head wide receiver."

Kinsey stiffens as the realization of the words hit her but she refuses to allow herself to falter.

"Okay and, you know that I can't be touched. I'm obviously their first choice," Kinsey states, feeling her heart drop a little as she tries to convince herself that she isn't fazed. Once again, she puts on her veil of confidence to distract from the anxiety building up in her chest.

Kinsey's sharp brows come together in a scrunch on her forehead as she thinks over the possibility of not getting into her dream school for the first time. She's never supplemented the thought that she wouldn't make it because she's been busy pretending like she had everything together. She was too busy pretending that Kinsey Scott was a perfect person.

"Kins," the older man pauses with a sigh, "I would love to believe that and think that the world has a pot of gold waiting for you at the end of the rainbow, but that's not the case. The more people that they start considering for this position, the more at risk you are of not getting on the team at all. We knew this since we started talking about 'Bama two years ago," the man resentfully concludes, solemnly taking a look at the girl still lounging in between his two chairs, seemingly unaffected by the news.

Kinsey doesn't respond. Instead, her eyes stare blankly ahead at Coach Ronald's wall of accolades as her teeth start grinding.

Best Freshman Quarterback of 1999
Wilmester County Football Championships
Best Rookie Offensive Coach of 2004

Why do I feel like I already lost?

"Kinsey, it's not like you don't have a chance. It's just...you can't keep playing like you've been the past couple of days. I don't know what's been up with you. Your head is not all there," Coach Ronald insists, leaning in to pressure any response out of the blonde.

But he is met with no response.

"Is there something that's going on that you wanna talk about?" He tries again, feeling that there is much more to Kinsey's inadequate performance. In the four years that he's known the blonde, he has never seen her focus be so off, especially on the field.

"If I did, what makes you think I would I tell you?" Kinsey hisses, adding a greater depth to her tone to convey her vexation if she hadn't done so already.

"Because I'm Ronald McDonald, the man who has allowed you to call me that since you were a bratty little freshman."

Kinsey softens her stone-cold features instantly as the memory of her first encounter with the fresh-faced, amateur coach comes to mind. She remembers how unnecessarily strict he was until Kinsey annoyed the crap out of him enough for the man to contemplate quitting. He clearly ended up staying, but that was simply due to the head coach insisting that Coach Ronald was the only person that would be able to help Kinsey reach her full potential as a wide receiver.

The man wasn't wrong, considering Kinsey was being scouted by one of the best schools in college football.

Finally, Kinsey glances over at Coach Ronald with a sly smirk. She pauses, dwelling in the moment of silence with a restrained smile playing out on her face.

"I know I don't have to tell you this, but I'm gay," Kinsey notifies straight-faced, staring down the posters and plaques that cover the boring pale beige popcorn wall of the extremely outdated office.

"Oh... okay," Coach Ronald gradually processes, blinking rapidly at the information he didn't see coming. His eyes flicker in slight bewilderment while glued to the profile of the girl before him.

"And, I like this fucking girl. Can't get her annoying ass face out of my mind. I mean, her face isn't that annoying cause it's kinda cute but..."

"Kinsey let's take a few steps back, please," Coach Ronald pleads as he tries to figure out how they got here. It was safe to say, he didn't expect this.

"Ronald, keep up," Kinsey annoyingly rolls her eyes as she slouches more into the chair, gazing up onto the wall as she would at a therapy session, refusing to look at the man as she opens up. Unfortunately, she knows a little too much about how that works.

"You're right, keep going," the man agrees, tightening his lips and nodding his head as he opens his ears to what the blonde wants to disclose.

"So, as I was saying. I like this girl and I am pissed because every time I think I have her, I'm fucking wrong. So damn wrong..."

"How so? Have you told her about how you feel?" Coach Ronald inquires, finding himself more comfortable with the revelation. With his elbow resting on the table, he sits his chin in the palm of his hand as he gives Kinsey his attention.

Kinsey snaps her head over to the man, sending him a steady glare. "Ya think?" She sarcastically snipes.

"Well, tell me more."

"I don't know. All I know is that I shouldn't be this fucking sprung. I tell the girl I like her and she looks at me as if I had killed her cat... I mean, I wouldn't mind killing her cat if you know what I mean but that's beside the point."

Coach Ronald visibly cringes at the crude joke. "Ew, Kins," he whines, shaking his head before pinching the bridge of his nose in disappointment.

"Ay, humor is my coping mechanism. Don't yuck my yum," the blonde defends, not feeling any shame.

Everyone knows Kinsey Scott has no filter.

Coach Ronald sighs, shaking his head to try and move on, "And how'd that make you feel, I mean when you revealed your feelings?"

Kinsey snaps her head over again, "you're sounding a lot like someone I know right now."

Coach Ronald calmly nods signaling for her to continue.

Kinsey shrugs and continues, having always found Coach Ronald the easiest to talk to whenever she had problems. He's been her coach for four years and the man has seen her grow. It was strange to her that she could ever be this vulnerable with someone, especially considering their relationship with one another. Not many can have talks like this with their football coach.

"I felt... embarrassed, of course. I started searching for reasons why because it didn't make sense for her not to like me."

"Okay, well I understand how you feel about this, but have you tried to tap into how she could have been feeling and possibly why she would reject you? Did she ever express not feeling ready or comfortable?"

Ronald might have a point.

"I mean, she started acting all detached and weird. That's all I could remember after being blindsided," Kinsey pauses, dwelling on her thoughts as she looks down at her fingers. "Like... what did I miss? We've kind of been on the same page?"

Same page as in making out until our lips fell off.

"Maybe the reason she didn't fall into your arms has nothing to do with you?" He points out.

Once Coach Ronald says that Kinsey's mind jumps to that Zoé girl again and she can feel her blood start to boil at the same intensity that it had on Sunday.

_________

Maybe the reason she didn't fall into your arms has nothing to do with you?

The words replay in Kinsey's mind as she trudges across the field towards the student parking lot.

Her bag barely hangs onto her right shoulder as she carries her shoulder pads in her hand after changing in the locker room following her conversation with Coach Ronald. Her mind becomes more befuddled with each tiresome stride she takes. The heaviness of her body is starting to weigh her down just as much as her thoughts.

While consumed by her thoughts she feels a sudden tingling sensation creep onto her hips. The tingling turns into a harsh grip on her hips. Her body tenses immediately with waves of hot and cold rushing up and down from the top of her head to her big toe. Her breathing increases rapidly as her throat constricts and her face goes pale. The speed at which all these reactions occur simultaneously is a new record for Kinsey.

"Ayo, Kins!"

The familiar voice hits her eardrums, de-escalating her descent into mania. Her fear subsides but her body still feels weak following the shock. The blonde snaps her head up, lifting her gaze away from the grass beneath her sandals to glare at Antonio, her Ramen Noodle head best-friend. Once seeing the boy, Kinsey internally sighs, allowing the intense panic to leave her body. She suddenly remembers that she agreed to give him a ride home today.

She doesn't respond for a moment as the rest of her body has yet to return to its normal state of equilibrium. Her sandals feel glued to the field and her feet feel glued to her sandals, making her seem incapable of movement. The blonde quickly attempts to calm herself with well-rehearsed mantras as she feels the familiar sense of losing control.

You're good.

No one is here to hurt you.

You're safe.

You can trust this person.

She allows the words to process in her psyche, permitting her body to ease up swiftly. She pastes her signature smirk onto her face, consciously morphing her glare at Antonio into something more friendly.

But as she acknowledges her friend, her left hand takes up a tremor. She shoves the hand behind her duffel bag, trying to mask the uncontrollable shaking she's been having to deal with more often lately. The tremor subsides after a few seconds as the blonde takes more control of her mind. The conscious effort put forth eventually allows her breathing to return to normal.

"You ready to go?" Kinsey sternly replies, seeming off in her delivery as her voice fades out a little towards the latter end of her question. The blonde is gassed, with absolutely nothing left in her.

"Yeah, I've been waitin' for so damn long," the larger boy whines like an actual toddler. "Was Coach Ronald talkin' to you about 'back in the day' again? Mans never stops talkin' about how good he thought he was when he was younger," the boy nudges Kinsey's shoulder, raising both his brows. The consistent enthusiasm all across his face is irresistible. It's one of the few things that prevent Kinsey from treating Antonio like she would her other friends, with constant insults and shit-talking.

He looks as though a smile has been etched onto his face since birth. His smile was unique too. He has smile lines that perfectly align with the structure of his face, altogether enhancing his contagious happiness. With the blinding brightness of his unique light hazel, blue-rimmed eyes and the long curly strands surrounding his face, the boy looks like he could be a model for Sports Illustrated, of course, that's if they decided to put hot guys on the cover.

Kinsey gazes up at the boy hovering over her, wondering what could be if they hadn't been best friends. I would have probably fucked him too.

Just as the thought enters Kinsey's mind, it is instantly replaced by the vivid image of Jade in that really, really short pleated skirt that she wore a couple of weeks ago at the game. God, the things that could have gone down in that locker room.

"Earth to Kinsey, you there?" Antonio questions, staring with scrunched brows at the dazed blonde.

"Y-Yeah, I'm here. The fuck were you saying, again?"

"I was askin' you about your secret girlfriend?" Antonio sneers, throwing his arm over Kinsey's shoulder.

Kinsey snaps her head over to the boy walking alongside her, swearing she just pulled something in her neck. Her eyes squint with distrust, refusing to return his smile.

"What?" Antonio chuckles, "I'm just fuckin' with you, I know you're not gay," he laughs off, patting Kinsey's shoulder, almost throwing off the duffel bag on her right shoulder.

Kinsey tries to stifle out a genuine chuckle, half wishing that she could tell the whole fucking world that Jade was her girlfriend and half panicking at the thought of possibly never having the chance to do so. Surely, Kinsey doesn't give a fuck if people think she's gay but she's not ready to reveal Jade's place in that realization, especially not now. All fingers would be pointed at the new girl that she's gotten closer to in such a short amount of time.

"But, what I'm noticin' is that there has been some change in 'hard-ass' Kinsey since you've been hanging with that Jade girl," Antonio vocalizes, smiling down at his best-friend still in his embrace.

"How so?" Kinsey mutters half-curious about what her generally inattentive friend has managed to observe.

"First off, you've been nice. Like, you would have probably snapped that kid's neck today but you just let him go. I was expectin' a quick gut punch or two with how much he was thrashing around when you had him."

"That's dumb. I just wasn't in the m-,"

"Second," Antonio abruptly interrupts, causing Kinsey to grit her teeth, "you've been smiling way more than usual and it's startin' to get kinda creepy. You just smile while you are staring out into space like you thinking of an old joke or somethin'." Antonio eyes the blonde expectingly.

Kinsey tries to compose herself as truth is being spewed right before here. She wasn't aware that people were catching on. Yeah, she does feel like she is more patient and less abrasive but she didn't expect people to notice. Needless to say, Kinsey's caught herself doing that a couple of times when thinking about Jade and the countless times she managed to cutely embarrass herself in Kinsey's presence.

"That's just regular people shit. People do that all the time. I pick and choose when I feel like smiling, Tony. No one has that much power over me to make me change."

"Mhmm," Antonio mumbles, rolling his eyes dramatically as his best-friend does what she does best: defends herself even when there is no need to.

"Is there a problem?" Kinsey responds defensively out of habit.

"No, no. Not at all," Antonio defends, showing his palms in defense. "You know me, I've been hoping that someone could make you somewhat less of a perra."

The smug way the insult rolls off his tongue encourages Kinsey to instinctively elbow the boy glued at her side right in the gut, not even blinking twice. The only Spanish the blonde knows are cuss words that she managed to pick up while being friends with Antonio for roughly two years.

The hit is enough to nail him right in the bladder, leaving the boy's mouth hanging wide-open as he desperately tries to get back the wind that was just knocked out of him.

"Ah, s-s-shit," Antonio hisses as he tries to straighten himself up. He fails at doing so once he feels something spinning in his stomach that shouldn't be spinning. He removes his arm from Kinsey's shoulder to compose himself. "I-I think I'm bleeding... on the inside," Antonio dramatically quips.

"Ask your buddy James to come and help you with that," Kinsey heartlessly scoffs as she continues walking across the field, leaving Antonio behind.

Soon after, Antonio's heavy steps are heard plodding through the untamed grass to catch up to his bratty friend. Antonio reaches Kinsey's side again, placing a soft, unthreatening hand back on her shoulder, partially encouraging amiability but mostly to keep his balance as he still feels residual dizziness. "Ay, at least I support this new friendship, unlike Henderson."

Kinsey sighs, glancing over at Antonio to see the unaware, playful smirk taking over his face.

Gosh, optimism just oozes off of him.

"I will elbow you again if you don't get that smugness off your face," Kinsey informs, forcing a small smile.

Kinsey would be smirking too if James and her had made up. Unbeknownst to their sweet friend Antonio, Kinsey and James haven't reconciled since that fateful car ride the day of their last game and the blonde can't say that hasn't gotten to her. Of course, they've seen each other in class and on the field but it's nothing more than awkward "hi's" and "byes" at every interaction. Her best-friend of almost a decade isn't speaking to her and for the sake of her ego, Kinsey would like to believe that she didn't give a fuck but she would be heartless to act as such.

The friends have been avoiding the conversation they know they so desperately need in order to salvage what's left of their relationship.

Kinsey misses her best-friend but her ego won't let her be the bigger person. Her ego subconsciously wants James to suffer from guilt at how irritatingly insecure he can be at times. It is fucked up for someone to think about putting their best-friend through that, but Kinsey is more kinds of fucked up than she lets on.

Incidentally, Kinsey hears a generic ringtone sound from her gym bag. Antonio stops blabbering on about whatever he started talking about after bringing up James. He pauses in his steps once Kinsey does, carefully watching the blonde take her phone out from the small pocket on the side of the bag.

Kinsey ignores Antonio's presence as she taps and scrolls through her phone.

my personal shrink

Kins, are you still coming in today?

do I really have a choice?

Kinsey leaves the convo at that, sighing and shoving her phone into the hem of her football pants with the screen facing outwards, instead of putting it back in the bag. She throws the shoulder strap of her bag back over her shoulder and continues walking with strong strides and a blank expression as if nothing had happened.

"Y'know, you're kind of scary when you don't talk," Antonio adds, trying to keep up with Kinsey as they make it to the parking lot, zig-zagging through the parking spots to get to her bright red monster truck of a sedan.

"Good."

__________

Kinsey always hated it here. The constricting air that constantly circulates through the quaint room had always made her queasy. The familiar smell of toxic chemicals and stale air seep into her nostrils with every conscious, laborious breathe she takes.

The unnervingly cold, inhospitable yellow plastic chair compels the blonde to shuffle in her seat. The thin cotton fabric of her sweatpants chafes against the rigid chair, altogether driving the blonde insane. It seems like everything in this room is purposely meant to agitate her.

The chair that was obviously built for a fifth-grader makes Kinsey's lower back ache. Great discomfort came with the curve of the chair that no longer supported a child of her size anymore.

The blonde gazes down at the carpeted floor that incorporates a continuous pattern of checkered squares of bland grey and intense mint green. The odd colors serve as a desperate attempt at maintaining the child-like aura of the compact room.  Kinsey could vividly remember when they were installing the new carpet. She always hated the colors.

But the carpet colors are not the only thing she hated about this place.

There are toys... everywhere. The variety of colorful toys ranging from dollhouses to the death blocks people call, Legos, spread out all over the place. The mockingly colorful array of toys splay out all across the floor, with some hiding under the rows of chairs and beside the receptionist's desk.

Even in a room that is meant to relax, the blonde feels unbearably anxious. She grates her shortened fingernails against the gritty texture of the black plastic arms of the chair. Despite the feeling making her cringe internally, she finds comfort in the slight discomfort.

Seeing as the tips of her fingers are starting to become red, she momentarily halts, resorting to attentively tracing each square on the carpet with the point of her white Reebok sneakers. She finds the action to be therapeutic, considering the blatant fact that she rather be anywhere else but here.

She focuses all her energy on tracing those darned squares to forget where she is. That's until.

"Scott," the male nurse hollers, suddenly appearing from behind the polished wood door with his eyes glued to the transparent purple clipboard in his hands.

Kinsey rolls her eyes, dramatically glancing to her left and then to her right, to see absolutely no one. No one else is here but her. It's just me, buddy.

She delivers the apparent newbie nurse a blank stare once he decides to raise his eyes from the clipboard to observe his surroundings. His oblivious eyes widen in a split of a second.

"Oh," he simply utters, sending the blonde an awkward smile with genuinely sorry eyes.

The blonde sends him an equally awkward smile to seal the extreme awkwardness of the moment.

She groans as she pushes herself up from the chair, hearing something in her lower back crack briefly in the process. She ignores the sound, starting her walk of shame across the room.

The nurse pops his head up to questioningly look at the young blonde whose back sounded like it just gave out.

"Don't worry, it's not just my body that's fucked up," Kinsey reassures cynically with a tight-lipped smile as she casually strolls over to the polished wood door leading to the back. The nurse clumsily moves aside, slightly tripping on his own feet at the young girl's intensity and pure intimidation. Something about her composure told him that he didn't want to get in her way.

Honestly, the blonde doesn't mind the people that work here, but what she despises much more is the actual reason why she's here. This place, this building, this facility reminds her of the fucked up reason why she comes here every Thursday.

The blonde idly steps into the hallway with a hand full of doors on either side. She strolls down the hall, passing three doors, one on her right, one on her left, one on her right again before she stands directly before the door on her left that is wide open by the worn-out triangular door stopper sitting under it. She expertly slips the door stopper from under the corner of the door with her shoe before slipping into the room, allowing the door to slowly creep shut behind her.

The room that welcomes her is bright and inviting with the view of the city showing her that there are people out there actually living their lives. The cars and multitude of people littering the sidewalks give her another view of a world that isn't hers.

"Hello Kinsey," a woman greets, suddenly spinning around in a huge leather desk chair with her arms sitting on the leather armrests. Her smile is extremely wide, exposing all 32 of her teeth. The woman sits there with her pressed salt-and-pepper hair pulled back into a simple French twist with a fancy gold bird broach holding it together. Her age is only evident in her slight forehead lines and eye wrinkles as the enormity and innocence of her smile deceives those who don't know her into believing that she was inexperienced with life.

Her composure is confident with her shoulders pulled back comfortably and her deep mustard yellow blouse enhancing her overall elegance. Her eyes hold a simple coffee brown pigment capable of telling countless stories of what they had seen. Her perky and defined nose sits nicely on her face, a characteristic often reminding Kinsey of her late Nana.

"That was by far the creepiest shit you've ever done," Kinsey remarks with a smirk creeping on her face as she stares at her psychiatrist of nearly eight years.

The woman chuckles from the depths of her chest as she continues to smile wholeheartedly at the blonde making herself comfortable on the lengthy smokey grey sofa. The blonde slumps her entire body back onto the arm sofa, habitually grabbing one of the teal throw pillows to place onto her lap.

"Well, I like to spice things up if that's okay with you?" the woman, with a relatively weakening Middle-Eastern accent, defends as she playfully narrows her eyes at Kinsey.

"I guess, but I think that may be a sign that we've been seeing each other for too long. Will I ever get better?" Kinsey partially jokes but partially questions seriously, covertly hoping for a solid answer to such a packed question.

"I believe that's all up to you." The woman objectively answers, granting Kinsey a warm, knowing smile as if the blonde has any idea as to what that is supposed to mean.

"The accent's starting to go away, Phyllis," Kinsey mentions irrelevantly.

"Oh honey," Phyllis starts, elegantly wavering her arms up, "It's about time, I've been here for nearly two decades. You Americans always try to mimic it every chance you get."

Kinsey lightly chuckles at the true statement, reflecting on a time when she was ignorant and young, trying to mimic Phyllis' accent every chance she got since she thought it was so unique and "cool".

"But, on that note, I'd like to get into what we were talking about last time, Kinsey. No amount of avoidance will prevent you from facing yourself."

Kinsey huffs, glaring lasers into the throw pillow.

"My tremors are back," the blonde grumbles, barely audible with shame laced in her weakening voice.

There is a slight glint in Phyllis' eyes that forces a solid stare in Kinsey's direction. Her exposition becomes a tad more serious as she leans forward in her chair.

Kinsey tentatively looks up to meet her soft eyes, reading that the older woman wants her to continue speaking. Kinsey nervously licks her bottom lip before pulling in both of her lips, suddenly realizing how dry they've become since she got here.

"I mean... I don't understand why they're coming back. It's not like I've been active... sexually," Kinsey looks back down at the throw pillow seeing how tight her grip is on the suede fabric.

The psychiatrist doesn't utter a word or even a breath, allowing Kinsey to control the space by speaking her thoughts out loud.

"But, when I have been... y'know... active, I didn't have episodes like the one I had today. I haven't felt that way in a while..." Kinsey trails off, looking up at the woman for feedback. Phyllis simply nods, maintaining her undivided attention on the child before her. Kinsey takes that as her cue to continue, "It felt li-like I was back at square one. My legs couldn't move and I was frozen in time. Like fucking paralyzed."

"What was emotionally familiar about that moment you had today? How did you feel, mentally?" Phyllis inquires gently, easing her body in her seat.

"I felt trapped... like I didn't have control. That's what has been pissing me off lately. I haven't been in control of the shit that's been happening. It just feels like my fate is in everybody else's hands but mine and it annoys the fuck out of me," Kinsey lowly murmurs, eyes drawing done as she starts grinding her teeth.

"Considering the vivacious history of your sexual activity, I'm wondering why you've been feeling this lack of control now since taking a hiatus from such activity?"

What the hell does that v-word even mean... never mind. Kinsey thinks and thinks, traveling from point A to point E in multiple different ways. Why is what she needs to focus on. Why?, the blonde inwardly asks herself.

"Because... because having sex makes me feel in control."

Kinsey has possessed a streak of promiscuity ever since her sophomore year of high school. Once the sixteen-year-old had lost her virginity to some junior boy at a random house party, Kinsey seemed intoxicated by the act of sex as it gave her something she'd never felt before. Her eyes had opened themselves to this fresh sense of liberation and control that was unfortunately stolen from her at a young age. Besides football, having sex distracted her from her anxieties. Both activities made her feel authority over her life and they empowered her just as much.

She always had control in all of her sexual interactions and the absence of that, as of recent, has added more stress to the pile of shit she already has to worry about.

To put it simply: Guys didn't fuck Kinsey. Kinsey fucked them.

"If that is so, then what else do you think is triggering you?" Phyllis carries, slowly nodding at the blonde to encourage more.

Being Kinsey's psychiatrist for so long, Phyllis has seen many shades of Kinsey Scott. The good, the bad, and the absolutely terrifying, but this has probably been the most outright open the blonde has been in a session. Usually, the woman had to do much more to coax more out of the blonde.

Kinsey methodically calculates what her next move should be as she tries to decipher the question. Her eyes squint and her cheeks unknowingly puff out as if the fate of the world is riding on what she says next.

"Within the last few weeks, I've been getting really close with... someone," Kinsey mutters, half wishing it wasn't true. Hearing herself say the words out loud solidifies one of her many fears. The fear of opening herself to people.

Phyllis stifles her grin, not wanting to put too much pressure on Kinsey but excited for her at the same time. To see this girl grow right before her eyes have made her more invested in Kinsey's case. The reserved little girl who refused to even look into Phyllis' eyes the first time they met is now mentioning someone else that she could be warming up to. "And how does this newfound intimacy with this someone make you feel?"

"We're not fucking," Kinsey proclaims with sharp eyes pointed at the woman settled calmly behind the desk.

"Kinsey dear, that's not only what intimacy means," Phyllis clarifies with her hands folded tightly atop her desk, stifling a smirk.

The blonde pauses, biting the inside of her cheek in embarrassment.

"Intimacy is quite simply, a closeness between people. It allows for a level of amiability between two people and the more intimate people are, the stronger their relationship is. Intimacy can allow you to form a trust with someone."

"That's actually terrifying."

Phyllis replies to Kinsey's blatant remark with kind eyes and a genial smile. "Well despite how terrifying it may seem, it's important to build trust with people."

"But I don't trust anyone."

"With the mention of this special someone, I'm starting to think that you're gradually starting to trust someone but your trauma is preventing you from doing so. What happened when you were eleven still has its grip on you and that's okay, but you have to be firm in your refusal to allow it to control you. You've already made it clear that you would like to get to the point that it "no longer bothers you."" Phyllis quotes verbatim, remembering when Kinsey made such a declaration just at the start of her sophomore year.

Kinsey winces at the mention. Her face starts heating and her eyes sharpen its gaze directly at the woman in a more threatening manner. She fiddles around with her fingers aggressively trying not to let it bother her. It shouldn't still bother me this much.

"I don't give a fuck about what happened anymore. I'm over it! You don't need to fix me. I'm fine." As the words fall out of her mouth, there is already a steady tear making its way down her left cheek. She feels the wet sensation and abrasively wipes the back of her hand against her cheek to eliminate the evidence. She can no longer hold Phyllis' gaze, dropping her eyes to her hands sitting on the throw pillow.

Phyllis' expression becomes more earnest as she pushes herself from her seat to walk over to the broken little girl sitting on the sofa. Kinsey always says such irrational things when she is frustrated.

Soft sobs emit from the younger who tries to cover her face with her hands as if there is anyone here to judge her. Amid her whimpering, she feels a gentle touch on her knee. Before her is Phyllis, kneeling down, resting her bottom on the heels of her feet to comfort the girl. Her gentle hands caress Kinsey's knee, rubbing up and down to provide any sort of ease to the troubled teen before her.

In spite of being taught to refrain from physically touching one's patients, considering how long Kinsey has been seeing Phyllis, the woman knows more about Kinsey than even her own mother does. They are past the point of formalities and professionalism.

"Remember Kins, you don't owe anyone an explanation for your past. I know you trusted someone who hurt you, but you have the right to trust again."

__________<~>_________

How you guys doing? I know, that was a lot but now that you've got a view into Kinsey's world, what do you think?

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I know this chapter was very much Kinsey focused, but I thought it would be important to give y'all a view into Kinsey's perspective. There is more to be revealed in the next chapter so I can't wait to see your reactions to what I have coming next week.

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I absolutely love you all for the tons of support that you give me and this book! Can't wait to see you in the next chapter, babes! Don't forget to vote, comment, and give me a follow if you'd like. Byeee! ❤️