Chapter 4 Chapter 4
DAVIS’S POV
I get to the psychology building ten minutes early which is ridiculous. No one gets excited about mandatory rehabilitation sessions.
I tell myself I only came early because I want this over with as fast as possible.
The hallway is quiet except for a vending machine humming near the stairs. I sit outside the meeting room with my hockey bag beside me and tap a roll of athletic tape against my knee.
Once, twice, three times. A habit I picked up years ago.
My phone vibrates, Felix, I ignore it. Thirty seconds later it vibrates again and I ignore it too.
The door at the end of the hallway opens. Pearl Arlo walks in, immediately looking like she’d rather be literally anywhere else.
A notebook is tucked beneath one arm, her dark hair is pulled back loosely. There’s a faint crease between her eyebrows like she’s already irritated before the session even starts.
For some reason, I find that funny. She notices me sitting outside the room and stops walking, neither of us says anything.
“You know staring is weird, right?” I blink, she’s talking to me. “Pretty sure you’re the one staring.” Her eyes narrow. “Already annoying.” A laugh escapes before I can stop it.
Pearl looks surprised so am I. “Come on,” she mutters while opening the door. “Let’s get this over with.”
I follow her inside, the room is small, two chairs and a table. A whiteboard, very prison-like.
Pearl sits first and opens her notebook, I immediately regret coming. “Name.” I stare at her, she stares back. “Seriously?”
“Humor me.”
“Davis.” She writes something down. “Age.”
“Twenty-two.” More writing, this feels like being interrogated by a very judgmental squirrel. “What are you writing?”
“Notes.”
“About what?”
“You.”
“That’s concerning.” Pearl ignores me, I don’t think she likes me. Most people either worship me or hate me before speaking to me but she’s being honest about it. “Let’s talk about the fight.”
“Hell no.” Her pen pauses. “No?”
“No…..” She leans back slightly. “This is going to be a long semester, isn’t it?”
“Probably.”
“Oh great.” I grin, she immediately looks annoyed again. “Why did you hit Ryan Mercer?” I shrug. “He hit me first.”
“He checked you.”
“He checked me like a truck.” Pearl writes something else. “Still not an answer.”
“What answer are you looking for?”
“The truthful one.” I laugh but she doesn’t and it's awkward. “What if that’s the truth?”
“Then you’re lying to yourself.”
That shuts me up not because she’s right but because she says it without hesitation, people walk carefully around me. Teammates, reporters, coaches, even my family. Everybody acts like one wrong word will trigger another problem.
Pearl doesn’t seem remotely worried about that possibility. “You’re a psychology major,” I say. “Behavioral psychology.”
“Isn't that same thing”
“It isn’t.”
“Alighgt.” She sighs. “I’m already tired.”
“We’ve been talking for four minutes.”
“Longest four minutes of my life.” Her glare should probably be illegal. “Do you always do this?”
“Do what?”
“Deflect.” I lean back. “There it is.”
“There what is?”
“The psychology voice.” Pearl frowns. “The psychology voice?”
“You know……..the one where you ask questions you already think you know the answer to.”
“I don’t think I know the answer.”
“You definitely think you know the answer.”
She stares at me for a second. “You hate being analyzed.”
The words land harder than they should because she’s right. Everybody wants explanations, anger management, mental stability, impulse control like I’m a damn project that needs fixing.
Something sharp slips into my voice. “Maybe I’m tired of people acting like there’s something wrong with me.”
For the first time, Pearl doesn’t immediately answer. The room grows quiet then she closes her notebook.
“Okay.” I blink. “Hun, okay?”
“Okay.”
“Only that?”
“What do you want me to say?” Pearl folds her arms. “I’m not here to diagnose you, Davis.” Something inside me eases slightly. “Then what are you here for?”
“To understand what happened.”
“Why?”
“Because that’s my job.”
“No, I mean……” I shake my head. “Why do you care?” Her expression changes briefly. “I care because people don’t wake up one morning and suddenly lose control.”
The room feels smaller, Pearl continues. “Most emotional breakdowns start long before anybody notices.”
I look away first because I don’t like how accurate that sounds. The session ends twenty minutes later. Pearl gives me paperwork. “Homework?”
“It’s one page.”
“Still homework.”
“You’re twenty-two.”
“Exactly.” For the first time all afternoon, she actually laughs. The sound catches me off guard because it changes her entire face.
Then she realizes she laughed and the smile disappears immediately. “See you next week.”
“Can’t wait.”
“You sound thrilled.”
“I’m trying to contain my excitement.” Pearl rolls her eyes and walks away. I watch her disappear around the corner before grabbing my bag. Then immediately wonder why I’m still standing there.
The drive home should clear my head but it doesn’t, Instead I keep replaying random pieces of the conversation.
By midnight I’m stretched across my couch with sports channels playing quietly in the background.
The commentators keep discussing last week’s fight, I mute them
My phone sits beside me, I pick it up, bad idea. Three minutes later I’m searching Pearl Arlo online out of boredom, the university website appears first.
Behavioral Psychology, academic Honors, research Assistant, Dean’s List every year.
I whistle quietly. “Nerd.” Then I find an old presentation video, a psychology conference hosted by the university. Pearl stands behind a podium speaking confidently to a packed lecture hall.
She looks younger and happy. I click play, the video runs for several minutes before she says…. “People rarely lose control in a single moment.”
My thumb freezes above the screen, pearl continues speaking. “Most emotional breakdowns begin long before anyone notices them.”
The room suddenly feels very quiet because she isn’t describing some research study, she’s describing me. I should turn the video off, Instead I lean back against the couch and keep watching.
