Chapter 2:

There's a boy; no longer young enough to be considered a child but also not old enough to be considered a man. His hair is cut short with little curls growing in and he's shy personality wise. He sits in a small room, in a chair he'd rather not be in. In the room are pictures hung on each wall, some are quotes, people from the past, pictures by people he'll never know, artifacts he'll never understand. Nothing in this room is new to him, though he wishes it was so. In the chair that he sits, sits a woman across from him. Her name is Dr. Lang. She's young, optimistic and everything he's not. She sits with her leg crossed over the other, a pad in one hand and a pen in the other. As the boy speaks, which is never really often, she says, "hmm" as she writes down on her pad.

This "hmm," has become so familiar that he never even flinches when she says it. He looks at the clock wondering when it'll be time for him to go, but that only makes time go slower.

"So, tell me why your here?" She says, a question he's heard before. He wishes she'd be original and ask him something different, but she never does. She never changes, always sits the same way, says the same phrase, and when it's over, she says, "see you tomorrow." He thinks she enjoys his suffering or maybe she finds amusement in his sorrow. This is all mere speculation of course, because he has no evidence, but the smirk on the corner of her mouth as she speaks gives him that impression. Her eyes are dead, figuratively speaking. His words don't seem to have any effect on her, it could be very well that she's heard it all before, but he's not convinced that's it. She remains a mystery and that intrigues him. Everything else in his life is complicated, why should she be anything different?

"I get lonely," he says shamelessly, staring down at his lap.

"Hmm." She says as she writes down on her pad.

The boy turns his head, as to look over his shoulder. He pushes his lips out to make a sound, "psst" a noise he makes often letting her know he's angry. He wonders why she gives no answer. He's been in her office a year and a half and all she says is hmm. He feels that for the amount of time he's been there results should have been given. He stares into her dead eyes wondering what she must think of a boy such as his self. It gives him no comfort.

"What is it you want me to say?" She asks, as if she knows what he's thinking.

"A reason... why... anything." He's says angrily, looking for answers.

"Aadam." She says looking at him curiously, but Aadam keeps his head to the side, he feels she has nothing worth listening to.

"There's no such thing as loneliness, there's only you and the best way to get those thoughts to stop haunting you is to let them out."

She smiles for the first time as he turns his head to look at her confused. "What is it about me that amuses you?" Aadam ask. He doesn't say it in a cocky way, he's more concerned than anything.

She sits up in her chair, as if her back could go any straighter. Her posture has always been well. "Do you really think that after a year of listening to you whine, that I could ever find amusement in you?"

Aadam looks at Dr. Lang.

Dr. Lang looks at him.

After moments of silence and staring, Dr. Lang breaks the silence. "The mind is a powerful thing and yours have yet to be broken. If you keep those thought locked in that cage of yours, you'll never find out who you truly are. The smirk that you see on my face, isn't amusement but disappointment."

Aadam mouth drops open, "disappointment," he thinks, "how can two people who doesn't really know each other be disappointed in the other?"

"I've known you for some time now Aadam, and loneliness doesn't suit you."

"What is it about me that disappoints you?" He asks, this time more intrigued by what the answer may be.

"You." She says. "Everything you are, here in this moment."

"Do you think that I choose to be lonely? That I choose to see the world gloomy?" He says, eye brows raised high. In the year that they've known each other their conversation had never gone farther than two words to each other. More his fault than hers.

Dr. Lang doesn't say anything, she just continues to write in her pad.

"Well I don't." He says. "You tell me every day that there's no such thing, others tell me that I'm ungrateful, that it's all in my head and that I should be happy."

"Hmm." She says. "And are you?"

"Am I what?" Aadam ask.

"Are you happy?"

Aadam looks around. "It shouldn't be a hard question to answer."

I'm happy." He says.

Dr. Lang looks at him in disbelief. How could a boy with such troubles be happy?

"Truly. I'm happy," he says, sensing her disbelief, "but can there be a such thing as being lonely and happy at the same time?" He asks looking for approval.

"No Aadam." She says with a sigh as she continues to write in her pad.

Aadam looks down in disappointment. These weren't the answers he was expecting.

"I'm afraid our time is up, I’ll see you tomorrow." There it was those famous words he hated so much, “I’ll see you tomorrow,” and just like that he remembered who it was he was speaking too.

Dr. Lang thought that she had finally gotten through to him, but then it seemed that they had finally reached a road block, that tomorrow would have to try to solve.

She closes her pad and puts her pen on her desk. She walks him to the door and calls her next patient as he leaves out.

"Elaine, nice to meet you." She says smiling.

"Nice to meet you." Elaine says shaking her hand.

Aadam stares at the door as the girl enters the office. "Man, I hope she knows what she's getting into" he says to himself.

As Dr Lang closes the door Aadam finally smiles, this time not faking it. Finally, something different.

Aadam Foster wasn't always this way. He wasn't always sad, nor lonely believe it or not. Aadam had a beautiful mother who loved him dearly. Infact it was her idea for him to see a therapist. Aadam didn't like the idea but it made her happy he was getting help so that made him happy. Although Aadam always had this loneliness inside him it wasn't until a week ago that he felt the loneliness the most. If you'd have asked him last week, how's life? He probably would have told you it's great.

Aadam lived in a nice neighborhood, where there were little to no crime, ever. His house was big and there were only three other houses that could be seen from his two storied house. One had a family of five, Mr. and Mrs. Hawkins. There three kids Danny, Vicky, and London. Danny was fifth-teen, almost the same age as Aadam. His sisters Vicky and London were too young and Danny thought he was to cool to hang with Aadam.

The other house was occupied by a family of three. Mr. and Mrs. Welz and their daughter Katie. Katie was six years old and had a school girls crush on Aadam. He hated the fact and always tried to avoid her whenever he would see her. The one directly across from Aadam house was vacant and of the two families Aadam despised seeing them both. He hated seeing the families outside socializing, it only reminded him of what he didn't have. A father. Last week he learned that the mother he looked up to, loved and adored would become so much more, a liar in disguise.

Aadam always knew the resemblance between him and his mother was at a clear disadvantage. Their hair was different colors, their eyes a different shape, but those were petty things. He figured he got it from his father, the man he's never known. But as he grew older there were still no resemblance, characteristic or appearance. He shook it off, like he always had, countless times before. "I'm sure there's someone out there nothing like their mother," he would say. But then his thoughts turned to curiosity.

He sat his mother down and asked her questions. "Who is my father?" "What does he look like?" "Do I look like him?" Questions any child who's never known their father would ask, but he always got the same reply, "He's gone Aadam." The response became familiar as everything else in his life, but still he was happy. Happy to have a loving mother, happy to grow up in such a fortunate neighborhood, but still inside, he felt like something was missing, something apart of him. He didn't know if he was longing for a father or something more. He never acted out, talked back, showed anger, just solemnly went on with life.

His mother worked long hours; it was the only way that she could keep such a glamorous roof over their head. But the better life she was working so hard to keep, is what let loneliness enter his home.