He slowly tears his gaze from me, and they exchange an intimate look.
I refocus on Blue. "Tell them how you've harmed yourself."
"Do I have to?"
"Yes."
"Okay. I'll tell them for you."
My veins turn hot. Adrian's head snaps toward me, but I don't look at him. I wait for her to speak.
She doesn't take her eyes off me, announcing, "Sometimes I use a knife, and sometimes I use pins."
"What?" Skylar blurts out in a whisper.
"Look at your parents, Blue," I direct.
"Yes, Dr. Mercer," she replies, and turns toward them.
I follow her gaze and internally cringe.
Adrian pins a distrustful gaze on me.
"Tell your parents why you feel the need to hurt yourself," I order.
Blue takes a deep breath and, in a neutral tone, declares, "I can't help it. Sometimes I need to feel the pain."
Tears fly down Skylar's cheek. She grips Adrian's hand.
"What do you mean you need to feel the pain?" Adrian asks.
Blue gets up, steps next to me, and flips the hourglass. She watches the sand slip from the top to the bottom, mesmerized.
"What do you mean, Blue?" Adrian demands in a strict tone.
I interject, "This feels productive. But I want to be mindful of pacing. Intensity without integration can be destabilizing."
Blue beams at me. "I trust you."
The words hit harder than any accusation could have.
Her father stands abruptly, the movement sharp enough to draw attention. His eyes flick between us, lingering a second too long on the space we occupy.
I glance back at Blue and see cold recognition.
This session is already compromised. Not because she's unraveling but because she isn't.
My beautiful Bluebird is playing all of us, running the session how she wants it to go.
"Please. Everyone, sit down," I redirect.
Adrian doesn't move.
Blue spins and sits on my desk, then crosses her bare legs a few inches from my face.
Adrenaline flies through me. I force myself not to look.
"Adrian, please sit," Skylar begs.
