They called it co-dependent. They labelled it, the need to go from one relationship to another, to never be alone - they labelled it like it was bad. Like it wasn't what everyone did.

Alright, maybe - just maybe - she took it too far, maybe she was a little too reliant on whoever's hand was (by rights) hers at that moment. Maybe it wasn't what they had decided was healthy, but their healthy? They could keep their healthy.

Their healthy was not her healthy, and it wasn't what she wanted. They decided all of these things, using test after test, assessing each conversation, the secret meaning to every word she said. They debated the meaning of her choosing the plain biscuit over the chocolate one, they observed and noted the way she poured her coffee (if she asked them about it they laughed it off, told her gently that they didn't do that, that they were people too, that they could talk about it next week, if she wanted. She didn't.)

"You need to learn to hold your own hand."

She'd tried that. It didn't work. She needed a hand to hold, so what did it matter, what they did? She needed them there, needed them to say, so she'd do whatever it took.

"This is going to be my last session."

It wasn't their healthy. They tried to advise her against it - but they could only advise so far, they couldn't stop her. She won, a hand in hers, crushing her fingers


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bespectakate (joined over 13 years ago)
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Ladygirl of a British persuasion; sometimes I actually write stories that aren't depressing (but not very often)

I write for the, which is a webcomic about superheroes. Interesting ones. Cute ones, too. Which is nice. (It's cheerier than most things I write. That's where the happy goes, guys.)

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Lost, without a hand to hold.
Prompt suggested by b23cml


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