“The only time you fail is when you fall down and stay down.” – Stephen Richards


Lucy's POV


You can do this Lucy. Just put your right foot in front of your left and walk into her office. You're a twenty one year old woman, not some silly little girl.

I took a deep breath after the receptionist called my name for the second time and rose out of my chair. Glancing at the empty seat beside me, I wished Harry had been the one to pep talk me through this, but I didn't want to burden him with this meeting. He had enough on his plate already.

My footsteps sounded ponderously against the wooden floors as I walked down the hall to the door at the far right. I tugged at the edges of my sleeves with my fingertips before entering the quaint-looking office and sitting in one of the cushioned chairs. Seated directly across from me was a beautiful woman with ravenous black hair and icy blue eyes that could make any man’s blood run cold. She had a smile plastered over her face as she got out of her seat to shake my hand.

“You must by Lucy. I'm Dr. Rosewood,” The doctor said before letting go of my hand. “Shall we get started?”

Without speaking a word, I nodded my head as I found a comfortable position in the chair, folding my hands together in my lap.

“Okay, I am going to just start off with some basic inquiries first,” She informed me as she grabbed her clipboard and opened her pen. “What brings you here today, Ms. Grayson?”

I took a moment to gather my thoughts before opening my mouth to answer her. “I haven't been feeling too well these past few weeks and my friends thought it would be best if I were to talk to someone,” I confessed.

“Uh-huh…” She hummed as she scribbled something down onto her paper. “And what is it that has got you down in the dumps?” Dr. Rosewood questioned.

I bit my lip and hesitated to answer. Do I tell her it's because I was raped or say something else?

“To be honest...I've just been letting too many negative thoughts in my head, and I don't feel like I have a proper outlet to dispose of them. Something very traumatic happened to me about a year ago, and I've tried to forget the incident, but no matter how far back I try to push it in my mind, a memory always weasels its way to the front, and I experience the pain all over again,” I breathed out, biting my bottom lip harshly to hold back the choked sobs begging to be released from my throat.

I took several deep breaths and tightly clutched the armrests of my chair before looking at Dr. Rosewood again. Traces of sympathy lingered in her blue eyes as she finished writing her notes on the first page and flipped to the next one.

“Have you told anyone close to you about what happened?” She asked in a hushed tone, trying her best not to upset me further.

I nodded my head and wiped my eyes with the back of my hand. “My boyfriend and my best friend are the only people who know. I don't think I could ever bring myself to tell my parents,” I admitted with a weak laugh.

“And why is that?”

“Because if I hadn't drank any alcohol at that party, I probably would not have gotten myself raped.”

Dr. Rosewood set down her clipboard and pen and pushed out her seat. She walked over to where I was sitting and stood in front of me with her arms crossed over her chest.

“Listen to me, okay? It's completely normal for women your age to want to let loose and party a little in college. There's no harm in having a bit of fun,” She said while resting her hand on my shoulder, “and unless you're psychic, which I highly doubt you are, there was no way that you could have known that you were going to be sexually assaulted. It wasn't your fault.”

By the end of her speech, the tears from my eye ducts had stopped flowing, and I started to feel a weight being lifted off of my chest. There was no way I could have known...It wasn't my fault.

“Lucy, based on what you just told me I believe that you are experiencing some symptoms of PTSD. Do you know what that is?” She asked.

I shook my head as I tried to figure out what the acronym stood for.

“Post Traumatic Stress Disorder is a mental health condition that is triggered by a traumatic event. Some of the symptoms include flashbacks, nightmares, and anxiety. Now, it is very treatable,” She assured me, and I sighed in relief. “I’m going to start by prescribing you Prozac. Take 20 milligrams per day.”

I took the prescription from her after she finished filling it out. “Thank you Doctor Rosewood,” I said with a smile.

“No need to thank me. It’s my job to help my patients,” She replied. “Is there anything else bothering you that you’d like to talk about?” Dr. Rosewood asked.

I thought about mentioning my encounters Connor but decided that was a conversation for another session. "No, I think that's all for today."

---

After my session was over, I caught the first taxi cab I saw and gave the driver the address to Harry's flat. I had felt so much better when I left Dr. Rosewood’s office than when I came in, but I knew seeing Harry would be the perfect way to end my day.

I payed the driver with my American Express card and gave him a good tip just because I was feeling extra generous today. With a smile glued to my face, I used the spare key Harry had given me awhile back to unlock the door to the lobby and walked over to the elevator banks. I pressed the up button on the panel and waited patiently for the doors to open, so I could be taken to the fifth floor.

When I reached Harry’s floor level, I could hear yells in the distance but didn't think much of it until I approached his door. It sounded like he was on the phone, and I hesitated before knocking on his door. I bit my lip anxiously and waited to be graced by his presence.

Harry opened the door with a frown on his face and his phone pressed to his ear. Once he realized it was me, he put the phone to his neck and offered me a small smile.

“Babe, I didn't know you were stopping by,” Harry said, the surprise evident in his voice.

“I'm sorry. I should've texted you first,” I apologized in a hushed tone as he brought the phone back up to his ear and told the person on the other line to call him back later. “Did I catch you at a bad time? If you're busy right now, I can leav–”

The rest of my words were drowned out by an unexpected kiss from a pair of soft lips. Harry hummed against my mouth and tugged me inside before closing the door. I felt my body melt into large hands as I wrapped my arms around his neck and kissed him back eagerly. He placed slow, repetitive pecks over my lips before kissing my forehead.

My cheeks were flushed and my lips were slightly swollen, but I couldn't have been happier in that moment.

“I'm not that busy. You can stay,” Harry reassured me with a quick kiss. “I missed you.”

“I missed you too,” I told him, sounding like a lovesick puppy.

“Listen mate. Something came up. I’ll call you back later with more details later,” Harry repeated himself to whomever he was talking to on the phone before hanging up. His lips turned up in a smirk as he took my hand and slowly lead me into the living room. “C’mon. There's something I wanna show you.”

“Okay.” I felt my heartbeat accelerate in anticipation for whatever Harry had in store for me. Judging by the smile on his face, I was positive that it was something good, but I had no clue that what to think when I saw a white sheet splayed across a section of the living room floor and wax colored wallpaper set up.

“What is all of this?” I inquired, looking to my boyfriend for answers.

“I’m setting up for a photo shoot, and I want you to be the first model I photograph,” Harry answered nonchalantly.

Notes

A/N:


I've had this chapter written since April. I can't believe how long it took me to update. I've been insanely busy these last few months, but that's no excuse. I'll try my best to bust out a few chapters in these next few days to make up for my absence. Hope everyone is having an amazing summer.

Love
-M