"You look like a piece of shit, Jack."

"Mathematically speaking, Mr. Quinton, you can't pass this course."

"Shut up, Jackass, I'm driving."

"I still hear them, you know?" She looked at me, curious. "Who?"

"The voices. Everything ever said to me, it stays. I'll get flashes to a conversation with a cashier, and then it'll end up linking back to my Dad yelling at me, drunk. I can't control it." I paused. Looking down, I saw my hands shake.

"It's scary. I can't control my own thoughts. People talk about having safe places, but what do you do when you're never safe because the most dangerous thing is your own head?"

She briefly paused and then continued to write.

"It's not like I want to remember, but I do anyway. My mind is a constant highlight reel of 'here's how Jack Quinton fucked up today'. The drugs don't even help. I tell the doctor they do because otherwise, it's a new cycle of side-effects and readjustment for my body. On some level, I don't care because it's just happening to my body.

I don't really care about my body, my health. There's no point in being fit; we all rot the same. I can't even attempt exercise because it just reminds me what I hate about myself. Then I go back to eating. Then I hear the nutritionist in my head. Then I start crying." My voice cracked. Fuck.

"The voices. They're the vicious cycle that keeps me like this. Garbage. A jackass, just like what my old man said. Whatever. Are we done? I want to go home, at least when I get a panic attack there, I don't publicly embarrass my family."

The counselor kept writing. It was quiet for a good three minutes. I count the seconds sometimes, to see the time I'm wasting. She stopped. Looked at me. She appeared to be entering middle age, looking well but with the hints of wrinkles on her skin. Name's Mrs. Carrie.

"Well, mister Quinton", she sounded odd, not as formal as when I came in," I can certainly see why you were brought here. Anyone with your mindset would certainly be prone to a breakdown. I do have one question." She paused, and looked at me with a mix of emotions I can't quite determine. "Why did you keep screaming 'I want the house back'?"