Anger Management Session WHO Ethan Cole OT Eddie Danvers WHAT Therapy Session #1 WHERE Eddie’s office WHEN Monday, February 29, 2016, 4-5pm. (Backdated like woah) WARNINGS Foul language, possible strong themes to be discussed, TW: Homophobic Language
In hindsight, punching Bobby Green in the face hadn’t really been worth the instant satisfaction he’d received. The shocked look on the kid’s face had felt great, but then he’d been suspended, served with a warrant and had to go before a judge on assault charges. Ethan was lucky he hadn’t actually done any damage to Bobby’s face, because he sure couldn’t afford the restitution payments he’d have been forced to make. His court-appointed attorney had argued that Ethan was a first-time offender who had let his anger get the better of him. The Judge agreed and had sentenced him with community service, completion of a delinquency diversion program, and anger-management therapy. He could have lived with everything else, but therapy? That was some bullshit.
He had sat in the lobby of the shrink’s office, a tiny little receptionist being all wise ass and funny and it still didn’t help him relax. He could barely look at her, because if he told her to please go the fuck away he might end up with even more anger management therapy or something. Who knew? He just wanted to be over and done with this. His mother had wanted to come, but she had to work. As it was, Ethan’s own work hours were getting a severe dent with all this time he was having to request off, and that meant he wasn’t able to help cover all the bills they had. His mom said it was fine, that she could handle it all, but that meant working more hours and, that right there, was seriously the worst consequence of what he’d done. It was his fault his mom was having to work more, and it was his fault he would wake up in the night and hear crying from her room. And it was certainly his fault the extra stress lines were showing up on her forehead.
Now he sat on a comfortable couch, hugging one of the couch pillows to his side and playing with a tassel. The therapist was short - shorter than Ethan by about five inches. His stature actually worked to relax Ethan a bit, as men who were bigger than him always made him tense and ready to run. Also, his face was friendly, easy going. Ethan wasn’t sure how much of it was practiced and how much was real. He hadn’t found a spell that would let him instantly detect bullshit yet - though he was trying. He certainly looked healthy and happy.
Ethan wondered how he looked to this guy, with his threadbare and too big clothes, dirty shoes, and messy hair. Probably like any other kid in school - he hoped. He was seventeen, so he wasn’t too worried about social workers popping up anymore to check on his living conditions, or anything. Still, people with power made Ethan itchy and self-conscious, and he’d like to avoid as much trouble for his mom as he could.
Staring at his therapist - this Eddie, according to his introduction, Ethan remained quiet, fidgeting with his hands and his feet. Would it be possible to sit the entire hour without saying a thing? How long had it been? It felt like an eternity but he doubted he was lucky enough to be able to leave already…