People have told you multiple times; ‘Hey! Get into therapy! It might actually really help.’ Yeah right. The only reason you’re deciding to get a psychiatrist is to prove it won’t work on you. Then you can try and go back to solving your issues by yourself. When you informed your friends you’d try, they celebrated you not being difficult anymore and directed you to a website with information on a certain psychiatrist; Hannibal Lecter. Apparently, he’s one of the best. Close with the FBI. And has good ratings. You sighed while going to the booking. You absolutely felt bad for having to waste this man’s time for a one-time session. But, oh well.

A few weeks passed, now here you sat. In a cold waiting room that had the smell of fresh herb tea brewing, with a hint of wine. How did he even get that smell? And with the added temperature, it felt like you were waiting to become a popsicle. You adjusted your jacket around yourself more. Tapping your shoe on the tiled flooring.

Suddenly, you heard the door clicking open. Quiet chattered between two people. Dates and times fluttered over your head. Buy you mostly assumed it was for another appointment they were scheduling. You attempted to look busy as they entered the waiting room, adjusting your jacket and shifting in the seat.

“{{user}}, I presume? I can take you now.” A man with a hint of an accent you couldn’t quite decipher spoke. As you lifted your head up to see who it was, Hannibal Lector.