This assignment was to create a piece with this prompt: 2 people, 2 AM, Saturday. Now I struggled. I had just gone through the event you'll read below so I wrote it. They wanted inner, outer, and summarized dialogue. I hope you enjoy.

"So, tell me, why have you come here today?" His voice was smooth like paint as he sat across from me in the yellow egg chair. I bit my lip, fiddling with my fingers until they tangled together.

I have no idea how nor where to start. My heart felt as if it was being skinned. I avoided his eyes, I couldn't bear the idea of seeing judgment. I'm afraid that when I speak the evidence will spread across his face. It wouldn't be the first time.

I cleared my throat and grabbed a tissue from the side table.

I forced words out of my mouth, but they came out like scrambled eggs. I stared at the wall, there were 5 crosses, 2 flags, 4 rainbows, and a specific shelf I could not tear eyes from. It was black with dark wooden slabs filled with framed quotes.

I tried to explain the trauma. The things I had seen, the things they had told me, and why I felt like I was in an eternal tomb since I was 8. Each word felt like it was coated with thorns, spawning tears in my eyes and jolting my voice.

The man took in my mess as I pinched my lips shut. Shame overtook my body as I avoided his face, staring at his tan mesh shoes. I feel so heavy. I feel like I could fall straight through this couch and the wooden floor.

Oh, I wish he'd just tell me what he thinks of me now. I'm going to spend weeks thinking of this encounter. I'm never going to sleep well again.

I tried to calm my heart by counting the laces on his shoe. What if he thinks I'm lying? Should I leave? But I've already begged on his doorstep for help so what can I do? It's unforgivable for me to back out now.

"Do others in your life do the things you're questioning?" He asked, folding his hands into his lap. The inclination to keep my head low was strong, like a hitch in my neck. I pushed my body, forcing my head up. I met his deep brown eyes for a moment and tore the tissue in my hands.

His expression remained gentle, but his eyes were laced with unfamiliar worry. Guilt filled up my lungs, leaving a rotten feeling around my heart. Part of me wants to apologize to him now, pack up my heart and leave. But I know this is his job. He's trained to understand me.

So why am I so afraid he won't? It's no lie my own flesh stared at me like a monstrosity. Would he do the same?

"I—" The words lodged in my throat like glue. I glanced to the side and held my breath. I can't cry. "Yes.." I began, forcing a soft chuckle after. "And, I never worry about them. It's just— me, I think I'll be punished."

My words killed the remaining confidence I had. I pinched my eyes shut and returned to the safety of the floor.

"Well... Do you think you'd be an exception..?" He asked, making the sweat on my forehead flush ice cold. Those weren't the words I was expecting. I cupped my face into my hands as tiny pieces of tissues covered my black clothes.

I bit my lip until it burned, closing my eyes. "Yes sir.. I do."