Chapter Fifty Four.

Ariana's POV -

I sit back against the coffee coloured couch, the leather squeaking against my clothing. This isn't a couch made for comfort, it's made to simply look . . . professional. I wriggle around a few times before eventually sighing and giving up on finding a comfortable position. Next I worry about where to place my hands, by my side or maybe on my knees? I chew on my lower lip and decide to keep them clasped near my stomach. I fiddle with my fingernails, the nerves inside me beginning to increase by the second.

"Comfortable?" Beverley Hurst asks me, glancing over at me from her moon shaped glasses. I nod my head and bow my head, hiding behind my hair. I'm not comfortable being here, in this artificial room with a shrink that doesn't have a clue what it's like to be inside my mind.