Then There Was You Read Online Free PDF Page A

continued to slouch in the chair.
    “Now,” I said, grabbing a pen off my desk and preparing myself to take notes, “I know what your chart says, but can you tell me, in your own words, why you’re here?”
    “Because.” It was a typical teenage answer. It hadn’t been that long ago that I was a teenager myself, so I remembered that response well.
    “Because,” I prompted him as I exaggeratedly wrote the word in my notebook. “Interesting reason. Can you expound on that?” My sarcastic retort caught him off guard.
    He looked up at me, his hard stare holding a depth that addled me. The depth of his glaring eyes was like an emotional abyss. My curiosity of his brooding petulance gnawed at me.
    “Because,” he seethed through clenched teeth, “I almost slit some asshole’s throat.” Sitting up, he angrily punched his fist into his hands and leaned against them, supported by his bent elbows that were digging into his legs.
    I flinched. Two hours of sleep and meeting a kid I knew nothing about had put me a little on edge.
    Chris looked at his fist grinding into his palm, and immediately released it, running his hand nervously through his hair. Softening his tone, he mumbled, “Sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you.”
    I relaxed a little. There has to be more to this story. “Why did you almost slit someone’s throat?”
    Chris hesitated and then leaned forward in his chair, looking me directly in the eyes. “Because he needed someone to teach him a lesson.”
    “And what lesson would that be?”
    His face hardened, and his nostrils flared. “Let me just put it this way. He won’t be messing with her again.”
    Oh, I get it now. He was protecting someone. A girl. “One of those guys, huh?”
    “Yeah… a fucking coward,” he growled through gritted teeth, smoldering with rage.
    “I see.” I jotted a few words into my notebook.
    He groaned and threw himself back against the chair, causing it to screech against the tile floor. “You think it was stupid, don’t you?”
    Glancing up from the paper, I found his dark eyes settling on me again. I shook my head. “I never said that.”
    “Well, you’re writing it in your little notebook. Talking shit about me in there. Writing things you can’t say out loud,” he huffed. “Just like the counselor I had the last time I was here. He made up his mind about me the first time I met him.”
    I cocked my head, studying him as he glared at me. “I’m not writing anything negative about you in this notebook. I’m only jotting notes about what we discuss, so the next time I see you, my sleep-deprived brain can remember. I don’t write my personal opinions in here.”
    “Well, what is your opinion?” he asked hesitantly, glancing toward the wall.
    “Does my opinion really matter?”
    He quickly caught my gaze again. “No,” he said adamantly, while his eyes said ‘yes.’
    I folded my hands in my lap and leaned forward a little. “Let me assure you, it doesn’t. What matters is how you view yourself.”
    Rolling his eyes, he groaned, “Don’t talk to me with all your touch-feely mumbo jumbo. I couldn’t care less about that shit.”
    I stared at him, unyielding, as if I could look hard enough at him to read him like a book. “Something deep down tells me otherwise.”
    He peered back, unblinking, seemingly pleading with me to understand him, but with the reservations of a frightened teenager afraid to let another adult see his emotional side. He quickly reined in his emotions as if allowing me to get a glimpse would make him too vulnerable.
    After a few long seconds, he broke the silence. “Are we done here?”
    I nodded. “For now.” I’ll scrape past that hard exterior soon enough.
    Hopping to his feet, he blurted, “Fine. See you later, then.”
    “Just one more thing,” I told him. “You’re on my schedule every Monday, Wednesday and Friday. However, my door is always open. Just let the guards know you need me, and they’ll see if I’m