CONTINUATION

Bright eyes with endless pools of greys and blues greeted my presence. I flashed a slight smile and reluctantly took a seat at the other side of the desk. Didn’t want to give off the idea that I was contagious by sitting at a further couch.

“Um, Querida Maxwell.” I managed to blurt out. He seemed to have been in a drifting thought before he shook his head as if shaking that though away.

“You probably know, I’m Dr. Christopher.” Well, that was obvious, wasn’t it. I spared a moment to examine his appearance fully, as disturbing as it was. He had dark clean blond hair and a scar on the arch on his perfectly trimmed eyebrows, accompanied by a barely visible scar on his right cheek. His nose had a high angle that sort of made him look arrogant, but no stereotypical ideas here. His upper lip was a bit fuller than the lower one, but he looked okay. Not like an old psycho-path claiming to be a therapist after retirement to expand his choices in younger girls.

I took a deep breath and caught a grip on the situation. No rambling on and on about Benedict, I reminded myself. I noticed that a good head-start introduction would do. “I am seventeen turning eighteen this July, and my brother has died due to suicidal half a year ago. My mother came to the conclusion that my grief is finally going to be dealt with. I express my feelings through art or painting and music basically summarizes my life.” Brief enough, I thought.

What I've come up with. Psht, so lame.