"Sierra," Julian calls after me as I storm my way through the secluded hallway, my face burning with hot rage.
Take a deep breath and walk away.
I want to tell him to leave me alone but couldn't let the words out. Charlotte Dunbar was taking a dump on my last nerve and I'm not here for it. I clench my fists so hard that my nails dug through a portion of my skin. It hurts but I'd rather this than doing something I'd regret later on.
My therapist, Mr. Schofield, just Schofield as he liked to be called, had been helping me manage my anger that sometimes gets out of control. I've been doing progress, he claims, that we had reduced our one-hour daily sessions to weekly basis.
I'm not going to be the one to piss on his parade of progress by disclosing what happened today.
Julian lays a hand
