In the following days, I spoke little, ate little, and didn’t want to leave the house. I thought I might be depressed, but I wasn’t sure. I didn’t even want to see Sky. Ramsés was worried about me.
“I don’t want to do this without consulting you first, Bree,” he said, sighing. I looked at him, confused, not understanding what he meant. “I want you to see a psychologist. I think it will do you a lot of good.” I shook my head.
“That’s for people with serious issues, and I don’t have any.”
“Psychologists aren’t just for people with serious issues, my love. Get that out of your head. Maybe talking to one and venting will make you feel better.”
“So, I’m supposed to go tell my problems to a stranger just to get their pity? No way!”
“Do it for me, please. Give it a chance, and if you don’t l
