Isla leaned forward in her chair, dropping the pen into her lap. "There's no right or wrong here, Troye. I'm not trying to give you the sense there is a correct answer nor am I trying to change the ones you provide. I'm simply trying to get an understanding of your perspective."

I nodded once. "Okay."

Isla leaned back. "And the third term?"

"Guilt?"

She nodded and picked up her pen again.

Sighing, I took a moment to consider my answer. This had been the one I'd been dreading the most.

"Guilt for when you fail to conceal everything that makes you unique. To feel as though you've climbed too high while others are stuck on the ground."

"Do you feel guilty about your successes, Troye?"

That answer took longer to find because it never came. "I don't know," I said honestly.

Isla nodded and scribbled something on her pad before looking up. "I'd say that exercise was rather successful."

"What makes you say so?"

"You are an extraordinary person Troye, but you feel ashamed for being so."

"I'm not sure I understand."

"You know," Isla tossed her pad on the coffee table and leaned back in her chair, crossing one leg over another. "Most people don't realise it, but as a psychiatrist I learnt the pattern many years ago. Many, if not most, traumas are rooted in deep psychological guilt."

I stayed silent, waiting for Isla to continue. She did.

"What we see in film and television is a small representative but it's not always accurate. Patients will come to me and begin with 'it was my fault' and 'if I'd just done things differently'. They oppress themselves over situations beyond their control and it compounds into negative feelings that disrupt our ability to identify healthy patterns of thought. As a result, we begin to spiral."

"Guilt and shame are quite often mutual when it comes to identifying traumas. The subject will feel as though the object of their trauma could have been coerced onto a different path if they'd behaved differently. My experience has mostly been dealing with sexual assault victims but there are clear patterns in other traumas too."

My brow furrowed as I processed her words. "I've never really felt ashamed but," I sighed. "I don't know how I feel."

"Your definition of a 'average' included feelings of guilt. Troye, do you believe the average person goes about their day feeling guilty for things beyond their control?"

"Everyone has emotional baggage."

"True, but our brains are coded to process grief in specific ways. It's biologically different for everyone but the endgame is the same. To move past something that's been weighing us down. From the answers you've given me today, I'm guessing you've been carrying around the weight of your trauma for a very long time."

Isla's words washed over me but I couldn't seem to hang onto them. What she was saying made sense from a psychological point of view, but I wasn't sure I felt the way she was describing.

I knew certain things in my past hadn't been my fault and I knew I'd hung onto them, but did that make them traumas?

"We don't always consciously realise we're hanging onto memories that hurt us." Isla said, as if reading my mind. "That is because we're so used to the pain of them. What we don't realise is how that burden becomes a greater weight on our shoulders with each passing day."

"If what you're saying is true," I said, aware that this was only our first session. "I don't know how to fix this. I wouldn't even know where to start."

"That's where I come in, Troye." Isla replied. "It's not my job to fix you because you're not broken. What I am going to do is help you understand how moments in your past have led to you carrying around this immense weight and making you think it's normal to do so."

"So, where do we begin?"

"We'll start with your childhood and go from there."

I nodded. There was nothing bad I could remember about my childhood but I'd have to trust her. It was trusting me that I wasn't so sure about.

"Well," Isla said, rising to her feet. "That's all the time we have for today. I've already booked us a session for next week."

I followed her to the door and down the hallway toward reception. Before opening the door, Isla turned to me. "It was a pleasure to meet you, Troye. I know it can be hard opening up to a complete stranger so I thank you for your honesty. I look forward to our meeting next week."

I nodded. "Thankyou, Isla. I'll see you then."

Isla squeezed my arm once and headed back to her office. I bid the receptionist goodbye and walked to the elevator.

This was only the first session I'd had with Isla but a hopeful feeling was blooming in my chest. Therapy was a hard process to start but my confidence was slowly growing. Maybe I could do this after all.

Outside on the sidewalk, I fumbled in my pocket for my keys as I walked. My finger locked on to the key ring but as I pulled them free, they slipped from my hand and landed on the pavement.

"C'mon." I groaned and crouched down to retrieve them.

Just as I'd scooped them up in my palm, a flash of blue and dark hair appeared in my peripheral vision.

My head snapped up, vision transfixed on the street. It couldn't be. Not here. Not after all this time.

Blue eyes.

Dark brown hair.

"Ja-" I started. The words died in my throat as I stopped breathing.

The man at the crossing turned to hit the button. A strong wind blew the hair back from around his face.

It wasn't him.

The light went green and the man crossed the road. Turning the corner, he was out of sight in minutes, leaving the street empty.

I breathed hard, head lowered as I balanced myself with one hand against the pavement. Cars hummed in the distance.

It wasn't him. That person I'd known had left long ago. All that was left of him now was a ghost.

And he'd taken me with him.