Here on is fiction and present tense. Thanks for reading :)

Psych

My hand brushes over the cool surface of the object sitting on my coffee table. I let my eyes scan the room once more as I sigh softly, remembering clients from different sessions throughout my life.

My parents died in an accident. My uncle took me in. He beat me.

It never stops. First, school. Then, work. Online. They're everywhere.

It was an accident. I freaked out. I framed her. They took her away. She was innocent.

No one knows. I hear voices. They make me do bad things. I can't make it stop.

I watched it. I didn't stop it. I watched her die. I could have saved her.

He raped me. Made me like it. He broke me down. I feel like he's still watching.

Mum died. My father was an alcoholic. He gambled away our money. I took up a job to keep us afloat. Then he found drugs.

I killed a man.

Story after story comes through the door, each one adding to the stress on my shoulders, weighing me down.

My eyes flicker closed, shutting out the world around me.

He's gone now. He can't control your life.

Bullies are just jealous of what you have. They pick on your insecurities to hide their own.

Regret is the worst punishment of all.

They know you're listening. They know you're scared. They use it against you. They don't realise that you can fight.

If you could have, you would have. You are not to blame.

If he's watching, let him see that he hasn't held you back. Show him how strong you really are.

There's help out there for him. He needs someone to guide him.

There aren't words to fix everything.

Slowly, I lift the object that started it all. It is relatively heavy, but it is all too familiar in my grasp. Again, I sigh.

The difficulty of other people's struggles doesn't pass me unnoticed. But seeing them smile as they overcome their problems is worth it.

Perhaps Forensics is where I should be.

My finger glides over the glossy surface of the object before placing it back on the coffee table, although my eyes never leave it.

The book that started it all.

Maybe boring. Sorry. Almost made it a suicide, written in third person. Changed my mind at the last moment. Feedback appreciated.