Resisting Blue

My parents made me see a therapist for stalking.

They thought Dr. Red Mercer would cure me. They assumed he would teach me restraint, discipline, and distance. What they didn’t count on was the way his gaze lingers too long, like he’s undressing the truth instead of treating it. Or how his voice tightens every time I say exactly what I’m thinking.
He says boundaries. I hear an invitation.
He says ethics. I see a man begging not to want me.
I’m not spiraling. I’m precise. I know where he draws the line and exactly how to leap over it.
Red calls my fixation a disorder.
I call it fate already in motion.
This is my version of the sessions.
And no matter how hard he fights it, I’ll strip away his control until Dr. Red Mercer admits what we both know.
He was never meant to resist me.