Isabella's point of view

"How do you feel today?" My annoying therapist began again. Since the past week, she has been trying to get me to open my mouth but I kept mum.

"I feel like I don't need you in my life," was my reply to her current question. She was lucky I got a reason to talk today.

Instead of my therapist frowning her face like the others do when I talk to them that way, she smiled at me instead.

After I was discharged from the hospital, Niklaus, my father would send me here and have me listen to this woman ramble about death, grieving, and blah blah.

Honestly? If this was her method of getting me to talk, It sulked terribly; she bored me to death. I just didn't want to talk to anybody at that time, why don't they all get it?

"You're a fierce one, which is an improvement," she said, jotting down God knows what into her notebook.

Gosh, I hated this. It made me feel like a lab rat being experimented on. Each word I spoke was written down and her hawk-like eyes scrutinized my every reaction.

Why do people call this therapy? It sounded like surveillance instead.

"Why didn't you say a word to me last week?" This blonde therapist of mine inquired once again. She was always the one asking the questions but trust me, roles are about to be reversed.

"I didn't want to speak to you, is that a problem?" I wrapped my arms against my chest and sat comfortably. Things were about to get interesting.

"No, is not a problem," she answered patiently- I wondered how long that would last " But it would be interesting to know,"

"Is there a rule that states that I must talk to you during a supposed therapy session?" I asked.

I continued, "Do you know that the average woman speaks twenty thousand words a day while the average man speaks seven thousand words a day. Instead of wasting my saliva like that, I'll rather use it for something productive," I summarized.

"No, it is not compulsory, Isabella, and talking to you is a productive job. But then, you could remain silent as you did throughout last week, if that's what you want - nobody would force you nor would I judge you,"

She added with a gentle tone, "But the reason I want you Isabella to talk to me is so I could figure out your problem and help solve it?"

"Really?" My eyes brightened with an idea

"Yes, Isabella"

"Alright then, I have one question for you," I requested.

"Of course, go ahead" Silvia gestured to me to go ahead - yeah, that's her name.

"A-hem" I cleared my throat, adjusting my butt on the sofa, "Silvia," I called.

"Yes, Isabella?"

"You solve problems, right?"

"Yes, I help solve problems," she clarified.

"Fine, who solves your problems?"

"Huh?" I saw the confusion on her face.

"I mean, who helps solve your problem?"

Silvia laughed awkwardly, "Why are you interested in that?" She didn't even realize she's now the one being questioned. Who's the therapist now?

"Since you solve mine, I'm just curious as to who solves yours, or am I not permitted to ask that? Is that not the point of this session? Getting to know each other?"

"Of course, it's part of our therapy," she was quick to answer," You see when I have problems, there's my husband to help reason it out with - "

"Let's say you didn't have a husband - I'm not wishing you bad luck in your marriage by the way; though most marriages no longer last - who would you have turned to?"

Silvia was dumbfounded by my statement yet answered anyway "Parents? Siblings?" She shrugged.

"And if none of them are available?" I pressed.

"I could always call them on my cell phone and seek their opinion," she was becoming flustered this time.

"No, like if they're dead?" I said wryly

She gave me an odd look

"I'm not trying to say they're gonna die," I corrected, "But what if such a situation arises? Who would help solve your problem?" My question continued nevertheless.

"There's my mentors, friends, elderly ones..." Her face scrunched up, "And why are you even curious about that...wait a minute, aren't I the one supposed to be doing the questioning?" She asked no one in particular.

She finally realized.

"Oh, seems to be true," I gasped dramatically, this was turning out to be fun.

Silvia narrowed her eyes at me,

"Isabella, you purposely distracted me, didn't you?"

"Did I?" I blinked innocently.

"You sly one," She took a deep breath, "Fine, it's my turn to question you now, Isabella"

"Fine, bring on," I threw my head back against the sofa, I knew what she was going to ask already.

"Why did you slit your wrist Isabella?"

There, as expected.

"I wanted to know where Maya went," was my answer.

"Excuse me?"

I turned my head towards her,

"You heard me right,"

"You do know that if suicide is explained this beautifully, everyone would have attempted it already," Silvia pointed out.

"Is that a bad thing?" I couldn't help but ask, "Isn't that an easy way to die?"

"You're quite young, Isabella. Why would you want to die?" She inquired.

"Because I'm a jinx? Women who end up being or desire to be my mother end up dying," I answered her, refusing to let the tears flow.

"I'm not a baby, I ain't going to cry" I chanted in my head.

"Isabella, you're not a jinx, no one born under this earth is a curse -save Cain from the Bible." She attempted a dry joke

Yeah, try again later.

She went on," Perhaps to people committing suicide, it's easy- after the pain comes the peaceful death, they believe - but the people they hurt most are the loved ones left behind. They are the ones who have to deal with the pain of their death; they're the ones whose hearts are broken.

"Take for instance: Isabella, you're in pain because Maya died. What about your father? What would your father have done if he had lost both Maya and you?"

That question stabbed at my heart, it never crossed my mind.

"I didn't think about that," I blurted.

"You might not see or understand its value but your life is precious to a lot of people, especially your father,"

Have I hurt my father? I couldn't help but think.

"Tell you something, when you leave this office, Isabella, remember to give your father a warm long hug; there are so many wonders it can do," she boomed a smile at me expectantly.

God, I wasn't ready for this.

"Are you going to do that, Isabella? Even if for nothing else, for my sake?" She pleaded with a pout," Pretty please?"

"Fine, whatever,"

I hate cute faces