It's so, so cold. This rain is f-freezing, I'm getting chilled to my bones, I'm so weak. Please, please, please don't do it. Just please, Arceus, Mew, Necrozma, Jirachi, whoever's listening... please let me get there before he does it. N-ngh, I think I cut myself going out the window… it feels warm. A-am I bleeding? Is it going to get infected? No, no, doesn't matter. Not at all. Just get out into the backyard fast enough. Legs, please don't fail me now. Just get there before she… before she… Oh, Arceus, no. Is that a.. a-

            “I'm done being scared of you! Abhorrent beast!"

            No, please, please no, put it down, put it down, don't shoot, don't do it.

            “Dad! Put the gun down, put the gun down, don't do it!"

            Stop brushing me aside, don't kill her, please, don't you see my tears? Even through the rain, can't you see your son crying?

“Go back in the Arceusdamn house, Jay!"

I don't move. I can't. I won't. Not yet, at least. My legs are frozen, and all my cuts are burning. All the bites and the scratches… Am I ever going to recover? Will I ever be normal? No, no, she needs me. She needs me. C'mon, body, take me just a little further, let me stop him.

“Grr, you motherfu- Do you see what you've done!? I'm tired of it! You've preyed on us for long enough!"

“Dad, please!"

“Shut up and let me take care of business, Jay! Look at me, look. At. Me!  If you're lucky, you hellish bitch, it'll be over in a single bullet."

She's so scared and cold.

“This is what you get for fucking with my fucking wife and son!"

She's so weak and hungry. She's wet and helpless. She doesn't deserve this.

“This is what you get for all the scars!"

This can't happen, I can't let it happen, she's just a baby!

 “This is what you get for tearing us apart!"

Gotta stop the gun somehow, gotta stop the bullet somehow. No time to think, I gotta move!

“Dad, stop!"

            “Just stop it!"

........................................

“Jay! Jay! Can you hear me, are you with me? Wake up, wake up, it's me, it's me! For the love of Mew, snap out of it!"

“Eh, wha… Oh, did… did you h-hear a-all that, Mrs. Diana? I-I'm sorry for whatever I just said!"

“No, no, honey, it's okay, it's okay… I shouldn't've asked."

“I-It's okay. L-let's just move on. I'm sure you've got enough notes, -sniff-.

“U-um… A-alright. S-so, Mr. Ridgewater."

            “I'm not even eighteen yet, and as much as it is flattering, it makes me a little uncomfortable to be referred to so formally. Please, call me Jay."

            “Ah, my bad. Not used to having people your age around here. And likewise, to promote a more comfortable and inviting workspace, you can call me Diana if you'd like."

            “Awesome, with that out of the way, let's get started! Mental health, heck yeah! Let's freakin' do this! Realization of self! Coping mechanisms! Other things, woo! W-woo-hoo! Haha… hmmh."

            “Pff, ha. I think I'm gonna enjoy working with you, Jay."

            “Probably, hopefully. So, what's the first order of business? How exactly does this 'therapy' thing work out?"

            “Well, let's start over. I wanna start by asking… who exactly is Jay Ridgewater? Hopes, dreams, personality, family life, likes, dislikes, what makes you, you, aside from… that?"

            “Well, a lot of things. A lot of things my parents know, and some things that they parents don't. I assume this workplace operates on some variation of the all-time classic 'snitches get stitches policy', eh?"

            “Listen, boy, if I had a nickel every time a teenage boy strolled into this clinic and divulged some sort of gross or otherwise unaccepted part of themselves, I'd be able to afford space travel. If you don't wanna hurt yourself or others, I am a (legally bound) double encrypted government supercomputer that's locked in a secret base under a Gyarados-infested lake. I'm here to help, not interrogate you. So, get comfy in that chair and we'll chat like friends, alright?"

“Alright. Gimme a sec, and… ah! Sheesh, is this chair made of silk or what? And this pillow, dude! You're all decked out!"

“Mhm. Marble Musharna doesn't exactly skimp when it comes to customer satisfaction. That's how we get our money, after all!"

“Makes sense. Anyway, tangents aside… I'm a little weird. I'll eat just about whatever you put in front of me, a little messy in general, really into televised Pokémon battles, though I consider myself more of a lover than a fighter."

“Nice summary. What about your family? What kinda people do you live with?"

“Well, I'm an only child for starters."

“So I've heard. Parents dropped you off and left, so I haven't really been able to gauge them all too much. How are they?"

“Well, it's a little bit past lunch, and they know I got this. They're great. Dad's the breadwinner, spends his weekdays as a very well-paid engineer designing new tech and structures, and spending his time off watching battles or vlogs about fledgling trainers' journeys or sports that I don't understand. Has a real passion for the stuff. I like to call him a young soul, though he's just past his mid-thirties. He loves me and Mom more than anything else in the world, so he doesn't miss his dreams of being a trainer, really. I think he just has a likin' to adventure and the idea of makin' somethin' of oneself, independent from the 'big guys', as it were, and daydreams about havin' his cake and eating it too. Of course, it doesn't stop him from kickin' absolute tail at his job. Puts on some beats, buckles down, and assembles balls like no one in the whole place. Good pay, good bonuses, good prospects for the future. Trying to become a manager and earn more pay for a little less work. And he'd be good, too. Mad respect."

“Hm, nice! Hard-working man, working hard to give his family a good life. What's your momma like?"

            “Sweet as a rose with a bunch of little, sneaky, snarky thorns. She cooks like a 5-star chef, loves the both of us like no other, tucks me into bed every night, brings all my meals to me, and helps with school when I need help with history and science and stuff, I could ramble on all day, but she's the kind of gal every high school boy dreams of going to bed with every night."

            “Ah, little spitfire, eh? I assume she works, too. You're almost eighteen, so your parents were what, eighteen, nineteen when you were born? Can't be too easy to raise a kid right outta high school." Dammit, she was right.

            “Yea, Pyroar's Den. Crappy pizza and wine, though I guess the bowling alley and air hockey make it a pretty decent gaming facility. I'd describe it as a hybrid arcade-bar joint (coined by me as a barcade, rather clever, I'd like to think) that lets parents get wasted and have fun while their unsupervised children terrorize the poor staff who have to keep the dang machines clean and make sure the little twerps don't get a swig of the 'ol fermented fruit juice. Becoming a waitress, or really anything there is basically a roundabout way of getting a job as a babysitter. Arceus, good thing they don't allow Pokémon there. It'd be a crapshoot. By golly, though, my mom knows how to be good to the kids, cleans all the video games and ticket machines, and is really, really good in the kitchen."

            “Sounds like you have some pretty dang good parents. Then, if you're so well-off, what brings you to my clinic?"

            “Nightmares, awful, awful nightmares. Just the one, uh… I'm sure you… heard. Brittany has it, too. F-f-f-heck, it gives me chills just thinking about it."

“Y-yes, Brittany. Shame she couldn't be here, uh… really. Dr. Blackthorne… that hair treatment is not going to be cheap."

“Well, when you try to get a giant electric cat to relive her trauma… a near-death experience might I add, you might be playing a little too close to the fire."

He did the best he could, Jay. Especially since she couldn't communicate it too well."

“Just, uh… tell him I'm sorry. Nothing much else I can do except apologize and help him through the grieving process."

            “Sure will, Jay. Say, we're running low on time. Only have about five minutes left, so do you have any questions for your cool new therapist?"

            “Nah, you?"

            “We-ee-ell… if… if you don't mind me asking… what happened after that? E-excuse my tears, I'm a… little torn up about that. It's fine, really, if you don't wanna t-tell."

            “It's okay, -sniff- really. The nightmare… it ends after that. I fail her, when she was but a teenage Luxio, and she's gone. I never see her again, and I wake up flailing and screaming in a cold sweat. But what really happened… oh, it was a miracle. It was magical. She loved me. So much, that she started glowing. And oh, how my gorgeous Brittany flew. So strong and fast…"

...............................

“W-what the-“

She caught it. It… the bullet was in her mouth, and she… she caught it! To save me!

“Rrr… Lux! Luxray!"

She's hunched over me, growling deeply with a mad, embarrassed blush in her cheeks. I feel… serene. Her electricity, a veritable thunderstorm pulsing out from her heart, is surging through me, and lovingly evaporates the water around me. She's beautiful. Oh, oh... One last thing… before I drift off to sleep. Amazing… she's… chewed up the bullet. The molten hollow point seeps through cracks in her teeth for a moment, and she spits it out. Yes… No need to despair. I can finally collapse and sleep in the embrace of her jaws as she carries me by the scruff of my neck.

Because I am dry.

Because I am loved.

Because I am safe.