Lucille's POV

He stood up and glared at me with pure sin in his eye. I didn't want to react so I clenched my jaw as tight as I could.

He noticed.

A smirk played on his lips as he calmly sat back down, leaning towards me. "Oh, Lucille."

"Oh, Andrew." I mocked with a straight face.

His smirk melted away as he turned from me and crossed his arms. Clearing his throat in an insecure manner, he asked,
"So... My diagnosis?"

I gathered all of the courage I could to answer without seeming terrified.
"I don't believe we are done with our game, are we?"

He was still turned away from me and I sat waiting for him to face me.

A quiet sniffle shook his chest and I set my hand on his shoulder. Was he crying?
"Andrew, are you okay?"

His voice quivered with every word he whispered.
"Do I seem okay?"

I had realized what a dumb question that was and shook my head, though I knew he couldn't see me.

"I don't want to play the game anymore." He whimpered.

My chest burned with guilt and made me wonder how I could have gotten so attatched to a patient I had barely knew.
"I'm sorry, Andrew."

He gulped and sniffled again.

"Fuck." He quickly stood up and wiped his face with his palm. Walking towards the door with his sleeves covering his hands and his back slouched, he said,
"Thanks, but I think this is our last session."

Notes

I just got back in the mood of writing, hope you guys don't hate me