"Follow me." Octavius gently grabs my hand and pulls me out of our bedroom, both of us fully clothed and relatively decent. His hair still sticks up and out in ridiculously sexy ways, while mine, of course, looks like a bee's nest.

"Where are we going?" I ask him with a smile, as he pulls me out of the wing and down the hall.

"You'll see." I want to laugh at his words, but there is a distinct seriousness to them. But I don't question his actions as he guides me to a foreign door. It is dark wood, with a golden sign tagged on the door, "Doctor Sanchez".

"Octavius, what-"

"Please, just listen, Sandra." He interrupts, an unreadable but intense expression crossing over his eyes.

Worry begins to settle in my stomach and I tighten my grip on his hand.

Octavius turns away from me and pushes the door open.

We step into the office, painted in a demur mauve shade, soothing and calm. There is a leather couch placed at an angle across from a large, plush chair. In the chair, Dr. Sanchez is seated, a tweed jacket covering his shoulders and he stands as soon as we walk in.

"Alpha, Luna." He says with reverence, and Octavius reaches a hand forward to shake Dr. Sanchez's.

"Please, Luna, have a seat on the couch." He gestures to it, and I hesitantly lower myself onto the surprisingly comfortable seat, slightly sinking into the material.

Octavius remains standing, still holding my hand in his. I look up at him, and to Dr. Sanchez, and back again. I have so many questions but I suddenly feel exposed and vulnerable sitting in this office. Sitting under the doctor's scrutinizing gaze.

There is a pregnant pause, and I finally open my mouth:

"Octavius, why are we here?"

He doesn't look down to meet my gaze, as if he's afraid to, for fear of an unpleasant reaction from me.

"You need help, Sandra." He whispers, finally facing me with deep concern and sincerity in his voice.

"Help? What do you mean, 'help'?" I am taken aback, a deep frown settling itself on my brow.

"Luna-" Dr. Sanchez interjects.

"Alessandra. Please." I correct him, and he gives me an obedient nod.

"Alessandra, I am trained in the field of psychology. With everything that you've gone through recently, and some recent...incidents, Alpha Octavius asked for my help."

I remove my hand from Octavius' hold, my palms going sweating and clammy.

I don't respond, my eyes focused on my hands in my lap, my face an expression of deep conflicting emotions.

"This is a completely safe space, and our sessions here will help you to move past what you've experienced. In the past, I have helped Alpha Octavius with some of his past, and he has made great progress, and I know you will too." Dr. Sanchez says gently.

Something in his tone strikes a nerve in my heart. Maybe it's the sympathetic tone, or the excess politeness, but I feel in this moment like some child having a fit.

"Sandra, please say something." Octavius whispers, going down to his knees in front of me. I continue to frown into my lap, completely still.

I don't know what to say, I don't know what to feel. On one hand, I know that I need help, that I can't get through this all on my own. But what if, in these sessions, even talking about my past could make me relive my worst and most haunted memories. And that could just make it worse.

"I-" I stutter, wringing my hands together nervously. I look up and meet Octavius' eyes, and they're pleading with me, begging me to accept. To at least try. For him.

I sigh, knowing what my answer has to be. I owe him at least this.

I inhale deeply and close my eyes as I respond: "Okay."

I hear Octavius' relieved exhale, and his hand rises to grip mine, squeezing it, and that small gesture gives me the slightest bit of calm.

"Alpha.." Doctor Sanchez clears his throat and Octavius nods, standing up. Panic rises in my heart slightly, and I grab at his hand, causing him to turn back.

He leans down and places a lingering kiss on my forehead.

"I'll be close by. I love you." He whispers into my ear and squeezes my hand once before releasing it and exiting the room swiftly.

I turn slowly to Dr. Sanchez, and he gives me a comforting smile before he pulls a pair of thin-framed glasses over his dark eyes and adjusting the yellow legal pad on his knees.

"Alessandra, before we begin, I just want to let you know that whatever you tell me in this room will stay in this room. The only time I will break that promise is if I have reason to believe you are a danger to yourself. Okay?" He looks up from his papers at me, and I give him a quick nod.

I'm slightly shaking with nerves and awkwardness. I feel too open, too readable.

"Alessandra, please take a deep breath and relax. This is a safe space."

I close my eyes, and allow myself to take a shaking inhale and exhale.

"I want to go back to your earliest memories, they can be positive or negative, I just want you to tell me the first memory you have of your childhood."

I settle back into the couch, my eyes still closed.

"It was Christmas eve. Mama, Papa, and I were decorating the tree. I was on Papa's back, my hands raised. I think I was putting an ornament on the tree or something. I tried to place it on top of a branch of the tree, but my hands were too clumsy, and it fell." I wine slightly at the memory, remembering the sharp crash and tinkle of the little glass figure smashing into a million different pieces.

"I remember Mama calling for someone to quickly get a broom, because she was scared that someone would cut their feet. I was crying, but not because it was broken, but because I was scared of their disappointment."

I pause, and I realize that I'm shivering, and I rub my hands along my arms.

"I see," Dr. Sanchez mumbles, and I can hear the scratch of his pen along his notes. "Now, Alessandra, I want you to go back to the day of your parent's death."

I open my eyes with a flash, and I grip my hands into fists.

"Anxiety is natural, Alessandra. But sometimes we have to deal with the past to move towards the future."

What kind of bullshit...

"Trust me, Alessandra. We can take a break when you need one. This is all to help you."

I inhale, settling back into the couch.

Just breath...stay calm...

And I begin.

"It was years ago..."