forum *bonks you* Go to therapy, loser. (Small group, 0/5)

Started March 25, 2023 by Deleted user

tune

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Ok pog!

Clancy was sitting in the community room, where the group therapy session was about to start. All three of his clients were court-ordered to be here, trafficking victims or violent monsters it didn’t matter, all were here because they had no choice. He expected some resentment towards himself, however he didn’t expect the group to be totally intolerable mostly because he hadn’t received any information on their pasts. The unfortunate part of living in a world with magic, he had long since realized, was that most people weren’t easy to control. And when they lashed out, people got hurt in the process.

Clancy’s phone let out a small ding, a text from his husband letting him know where he’d be tonight. The bookstore, right. Rain pattered outside the shatterproof windows, and the room smelled like bleach as it had recently been cleaned. There were fidget toys for all species scattered in baskets across tables, and the warm lamps glowed as they floated around the ceiling casting a friendly sunset across the room.

Clancy heard the door open, as his clients were escorted by armed guards into the room. Well, he might as well get started. Clancy stood, his ankle length skirt billowing around his legs as he walked over to greet the group. He straightened the collar of his shirt, and adjusted his glasses with a sense of nervousness. “Hello all. My name is Clancy, I’m here to help you all succeed. We call this program New Starts and Healthy Transitions for a reason, after all.” he smiled, casting even more warmth across the room even with the sense of anxiety building up in his chest as to how this would go.

Ethan struggles against a few guards, screaming at them in Russian and sending curses and threats flying. It was clear he had true panic and fear in his eyes. He hated being touched…he also hated being forced into anything. He punches at a guard, only to be restrained.

Ethan always felt guilty after causing any scenes, but when he was in this state of panic, he always immediately went into fight mode. He had learned to defend himself at a young age. He had to. It was the only thing that kept him from being killed when he was younger, and now it was his only response to these types of situations. Ethan wasn’t a bad person…just had bad decisions. Even if they weren’t voluntary.

The guards manage to get Ethan to a seat, but were unable to get him to sit without him trying to dash out the room. His eyes darted from place to place, trying to find any and every exit possible, while also trying to stay on high alert. His eyes snapped to Clancy as he spoke and he pauses, then snarls.

Xander never wanted to be here. Never.

They hadn't even wanted to go to court. After all, what good would it do for them? They had no reason for it. They were better off by theirself anyways. Everyone was either violent, a fool, or a violent fool in their eyes.

They didn't like violence.

So they stayed away from everyone.

Until someone found them living under a bridge and had filed a case. Which was stupid, because the judge had taken one look at them and said "You have court mandated therapy next week."

Xander didn't understand what the judge had seen to make them send them here.

But here they were.

The gaurds had tried to escort them in physically when they wouldn't go in willingly. . . they had disappeared. They didn't know where. But they left and then Xander went on their own because anything was better than being touched again.

They watched as a Russian man was forced into the room and shrank back, away from them, their mind going peacufully quiet.

To the rest of the group it would look like Xander's soul had just left their body. Distantly, they knew how it looked, but they couldn't be bothered to care.

So here they were, blank faced, dead-eyed, frozen in place. Waiting for the hell to start.

Rhys was silent, his unnaturally handsome face pale as he walked into the room ahead of the guards. He didn't need to be dragged anywhere. He'd go if it meant he didn't get touched. Because any touch of any kind made him want to curl up into a ball and sob his eyes out. Or die. Dying would have been better twelve years ago.

He casts a qiick look around noting the screaming Russian man and cringing away, and then noted the other person, who looked dead. Rhys didn't care. He just wanted this to be over with. He knew how to please people in all sorts of ways. He could tell them exacatly what they wanted to hear.

And he would do just that. Then go home to his dark apartment, sit on his bare bed and cry. Then go back to what he as working on.

But for now, he sat in a chair, silent, starting at Clancy and forcing a small, but east smile to his face.

Clancy internally cringed. What had he gotten himself into? He kept up the smiling face, he knew he had to if he ever wanted to get through to these people. “If you’d like a fidget, feel free to pick from any of the ones that are out. If you’d like a snack, Doris should be restocking the vending machines and I can provide you with tokens. Otherwise, welcome! I’m going to ask you three a question. What is the point of you all coming here?” he said, gesturing to open up a conversation. “No wrong answers, it’s an open opinion question. You can even tell me to screw off if you’re not feeling open to answering. But I’ll need you all to answer it at some point.” he said, his low vibrato baritone of a voice echoing throughout the room.

Ethan growls, narrowing his eyes at Clancy. “What kinda fuckery are you trying?!” He snarls, still fighting against the guards.

Ethan immediately started wondering, maybe this man would try to kill him. Offering food? Definitely poisoned food. His eye twitched slightly, “You’re forcing me to be here, dickhead!” He snaps. Ethan slowly started hyperventilating, memories flooding his mind. “Hell you’ll probably try to kill us!”

Xander looks at Clancy blankly.

"I was forced to come here." they say bluntly. They ignore the offer for food. They all but ignore Ethan; the man would be way too much for them to handle any time soon. Probably ever.

The extra guards were eyeing Xander apprehensivle but made no move towards them; they had heard the incident and knew any sudden movements could mean erasure for them too.

Rhys looked at Clancy, quiet for a moment. He didn’t like the idea of food, he wasn’t particularly hungry. He had eaten before the two guards had shown up at his dark apartment. They had told him he could follow them, or they’d drag him. Rhys had chosen the first option.

Preferring not to be touched, Rhy would do anything if it meant he didn’t have physical contact with someone. The contact made him want to sob and scream at the same time. It made him want to kill or be killed. Rhys would rather sit and be pleasant with this guy who, Rhys personally felt, was wasting his time.

He listens to Clancy’s question, then the other’s answers. He then shrugs, “I was threatened with physical contact to come here, so I came. And here I am.”

Rhys hadn’t been happy to be pulled away from his home either. To go to court r be here. He was perfectly content to be at home. He knew what had happened, and accepted it then, ignored it. Other than the fact that he despised being touched, he acted pretty ormal. He didn’t forget to eat or take showers. Sleep or get exercise.

But there where the ties when he lapsed, and stayed in his room, in the cold dark, curled up in a ball under the bed. He never remembered those times, only the fact that one of his friends told him shed sometimes find him there and then leave him alone, as it always seemed to take longer if she talked or touched him. This, Rhys realized, was one thing that would never changed, even with therapy.

Clancy mentally filed those answers away for later. “Hmm. It seems to me that you’re not all open to discussing anything. Is that assessment correct?” he asked, tilting his head. His hair fell to the side a bit, long dark locks immediately swept to the side as Clancy ran his hand through them. He sat down on the ground before the group, realizing his height could be intimidating for some.

Ethan watches Clancy closely, narrowing his eyes. Even Ethan himself didn’t notice himself slowly calming down, no longer fighting the guards. Though, they still kept a firm grip on him. Ethan huffs softly, dead silent for a while. He then growls, “Why the hell do you care? You’re probably tryna kill us or somethin’.” His thick Russian accent seemed to get more prominent, showing just how agitated he was. “Hell you’d probably just send us somewhere to be locked up.”