Seth crossed his legs and arms as he sat back into his seat in the psychiatrist’s office for yet another time too many. The plushness of the black leather chair did nothing to make him more comfortable as the shrink stared at him over her glasses, notepad in hand.

“Well, let’s fucking start.”

“Language. But I hear you haven’t had any problems since we last met.”

The image of Jayson battered and bloody pressed into Seth’s mind.

“Nope.”

“That’s good. I’m glad we’re making so much progress, especially with how negatively we ended last time.”

“Yup.” Maybe she would let him off if he just agreed with her.

“I think if you keep this up, we should be able to reduce our sessions to once a month next semester.”

Seth held back the instinctive curl of his lip. “That sounds great.”

“Seth, I know you don’t want to be here, but you need to be. You’re a very troubled individual, and it’s my job, given to me by the school, to help you work through that.”

“Well, what is there to say, then? Monitor me, or whatever. I’m not fighting. I’m focusing on my martial arts and school.”

“Good, throwing yourself into those things is very healthy, and I’m glad you’re doing so. You’re all healed up then?”

“Yes.”

“And how are you feeling while you’re training?”

“Good.”

“Seth, I need more than one-word answers.”

“Okay.” Seth felt a deep, deep compulsion to not give this woman anything close to what she wanted.

“Homecoming is tonight.”

“So?”

“I can recommend you not go.”

Seth clenched his fist hidden under his armpit. “Fine, what do you want to know?”

“I want to know how you’re processing your anger while you’re training.”

“I don’t. It just… goes away. It helps. That’s all.”

“Have you hurt anyone while training?”

Seth shook his head.

“Are you going to compete anytime soon?”

Already have. “No.”

“Good, I will officially recommend you don’t until we sort your issues out and help you patch them up.” She wrote something down. “How do you feel about going on medication?”

“Excuse me?” Seth’s eyebrows arched all the way up at the question out of left field.

“I think it would really help to continue your progress if you took something very low-dose to help even you out. You’re holding fine, but you have a lot of anger, and I’m worried you may just be bottling that up rather than dealing with it.”

“I’m not going on meds.”

“Well, that might not be your decision, Seth, and I’d rather it was than me having to prescribe you something and require you to take it.”

“I’m pretty certain you can’t do that.”

“If you’re a danger to yourself and others, I can.” She stared over her glasses.

Seth sighed, working hard to control his anger as the void spat up more of it that had been apparently stored just for this moment. “I’m not a danger.”

“If you don’t get in another fight you aren’t.”

Seth shook his head. “I’m not getting in another fight.” He stood up, wanting to get ahead of the anger. “I’m done here. Mark me as leaving or whatever. I don’t care. I’m not going to hurt anyone, and I’m not going on meds.”

“Seth. Sit down.”

He stayed standing. “I’m not going on meds.”

“I think that your attitude here might be indicative that you need to, Seth.”

He hadn’t realized it, but her constant usage of his name annoyed him. More than annoyed him now, it pissed him off. “I’m leaving. I have to get ready for homecoming. It’s an outlet. I’m hanging out with my support system. My friends keep me level-headed.”

She pushed her glasses up. “One more fight and I’m going to have to put you on medication, Seth.”

“There won’t be.” Seth left the room, pulling his phone out of his pocket to text Andrew. He needed to train and let this bullshit out of his system.

The void raged.