DANTE
“Why do you think you’re about to spiral out of control?”
Linda sat across from me, pen ready over her notepad, her bright blue eyes fixed on me like she could see straight into my head. For a second, I almost laughed.
I never understood why someone like her chose this job—listening to people like me spill their mess and dirty secrets. She was pretty, put-together, mid-thirties, the kind of blonde you’d expect to have an easier life. One filled with light, not other people’s darkness.
The leather chair squeaked as I shifted, heat rising in my chest. From the first day I met Linda, I knew I didn’t believe in therapy. I knew it wouldn’t change me or turn me into some polished, shining knight. Still, I smiled, played along, sat through her questions, and nodded in all the right plac
