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therapy | multi-muse monday
“Hudson? I hate to.. Interrupt your thoughts, but we only have fifteen minutes left. Is there anything you’d like to talk about?”
A loaded question. One with no definite answer.
Hudson had planned out everything he had wanted to talk about at his therapy session today, but the moment he sat in the pleather chair, words seemed to fail him. He thought of Teddy, and the last moments they shared together. He thought of the guilt that ate away at him for killing his best friend. He thought of the guilt that ate away at him for getting away with it, too.
“Hudson?” His therapist asked again.
“Do you ever think about death?” Hudson asked, gaze shifting from the floor to Johnathan’s face.
He watched as the older man shifted in his seat, weight moving from one hip to the other, a hand reaching up to scratch at his white beard. “I can’t say I do, no.”
“I’m not afraid to die,” Hudson admitted, shoulders shrugging as he fidgeted with his hands. “I’m more afraid of living.” He had thought of death many times since losing his best friend - wondering if it was a peaceful experience, or if he’d be sent to eternal damnation and suffering because of the sins he had committed. Life, though, was not as thrilling as everyone made it out to be. Not anymore, at least. Not after losing Teddy.
“Care to explain?” Johnathan asked, thick brows moving to the center of his forehead as he peered over the frame of his glasses, pen moving across the notepad in his lap.
“Well… I just don’t want to live anymore. I don’t want to kill myself, or anything. But I don’t want to be alive,” the younger male confessed, shrugging again. “I.. I feel guilty for living. For carrying on with my life while my best friend lays six feet deep. I was the one that put him there,” Hudson looked back at his hands now, fingers picking at the skin around his cuticles. Ripping and tearing piece after piece, the sting left behind easing his anxiety just enough to continue the conversation.
“The accident wasn’t your fault, Hudson. I don’t think it’s fair to blame yourself for something that couldn’t have been avoided.”
“Right.” Sonny said quickly. No one knew what actually happened that night, everyone still assumed it was a freak accident, or that Sonny lost control of the car. He wasn't ready to admit to other people that he was drunk, or that he was driving like an a**hole. Sighing, he shifted his weight in the chair again. “The point is.. I don’t deserve to be here.”
Johnathan continued to write in his pad of paper, the room falling silent for a few moments before he cleared his throat to continue. “It’s natural to have survivor’s guilt in situations like this, but I believe that Teddy would want you to keep going. Have you thought about getting back into music? Maybe you can create something to honor your friend.”
“Yeah… maybe.”
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