A Final Fight

The doctor took me to a large room, the walls were white and I found the sudden onslaught of light rude. There wasn't much in the room, save for a box, of which's contents I could'nt see. There was a few offensively-patterend chairs and a weight scale. I hope he doesn't try to weigh me.
"Andy?" I turned to look at the doctor. I liked him, he was nice to me, and he likes the Misfits. And I wonder how old he is? Not to mention he was pretty hot. He had long, black hair, slightly spiked at the top. It seems that he'd donned a white coat while I wasn't looking, covering the Misfits top. I don't like that he covered it.
I glared ar the coat for a bit, hoping it would suddenly disappear and he'd be back to normal again.
Once I confirmed it wouldn't I looked back at the doctor.
"yes?"
"Could you go sit in that chair over there for me? I just need to pop outside and get something, then I'll be back."
"I don't like that chair." It was a horrible green with red and yellow stitching. "It doesn't go with the rest of the room." He simply nodded.
"Well, I have a white chair that goes with the room. I'll get us both one, yes? And I agree, they really need to get a better designer." I laughed.
"thank you." If I told mom that, she would've told me off and sent me home and told me I'm a fuck up. I still love her. But moms not here anymore.
I watched as the doctor walked out, and returned with a pile of papers and two white chairs.
"You must be strong to lift both chairs."
"I work out." he chuckled. "Now, Andy, if you can sit in this chair" I took my place there. "good. Now, first off, I'm just going to question you, nothing big."
"It won't be like in the police station, will it? I hated that, they fucking scared me. When I was ten, dad tried to stab mom. Then he stabbed himself. Before, he'd tell me really good things, like he was gonna buy us a nice house, and he go shopping. Then a week later, he would just stay in bed for days, and tell me that he shouldn't be alive, that none of us should." He frowned, scribbled something down, then returned his eyes to me.
"Did that scare you Andy?"
"Sometimes. When he was sad it did. Especially when he tried to stab mum, he wasn't a very nice man. I didn't see him kill himself, I was just told...but thats happened and gone now. Whats your name?" I wasn't very comfortable talking about my dad with other people, and I only talked to doctor because I like him. He looked up from writing on the paper, blinked a few times, coughed and said.
"Well, I'm not supposed to tell you, Andy."
"But I told you mine. I promise I won't say if you do." He sighed.
"Okay, but you better not break that promise. My name is Ashley." I smiled.
"Victory!"
"yes, victory. now, lets get on with this test."

I think I spent a good hour being asked questions, mainly about my life and interests. Then he showed me some pictures and asked me how they made me feel. I asked Ashley why it was like an elementary school test, and he said it was only standard procedure.
Finally, we got to the last test. Set out in front of me was a scale.
"Okay, Andy, last one. Just step on the scale and I can take your weight down." no!
"NO!" He stepped back as I shouted. "No! You can't! I don't want any one seeing my weight! I'm fat! I'll fucking break the scale!"
"Calm down Andy." he put his hands in front of his face.
"But you'll laugh when you see how fat I am. I bet you've been laughing in your head the whole time I've been talking to you!" I took the chance to run to a corner of the room. "You can't make me..." I whispered through the tears that I had only just realised were falling down my face.
"Andy, I'm not going to make you do anything, but this is important."
"But you can already see I'm fat and overweight!"
"Your certainly not fat, your skinny. I would've said your underweight, to be honest."
"YOUR LYING!"
"Andy..." he warned. "I'm not lying, I don't lie." He lowered his hands.
"Well congrats theres a lie for you." I threw back. To my surprise, he smirked and walked over to me. I watched him, following his every move.
"hmm, well you are smart, aren't you Andy?" I nodded.
"except for algebra." He grinned.
"Don't worry I'm not much good either. Numbers fucking confuse me."
"Then how wuld you read my weight then?" I raised my eyebrows.
"Too smart for your own good" he then muttered something that I couldn't hear, but I let it drop. "Please, Andy, would you please let me weigh you?"
"No." He sighed, and turned, tapping his fingers in the top of the chair.
"I might be able to get you something if you let me."
"like what?"
"I assume you like music?"
"I love it."
"Well, if you let me weigh you, I'll see what I can do about getting you a CD player and a few CD's too. but only if you let me weigh you." I let my gaze wander to the ceiling, considering his offer. I don't think I could survive here without music. But I don't want him to weigh me. But the music...I need inspiration, plus I like to draw the misfits skull...I also like drawing batman. I love Batman...
"Andy?"
"huh?!"
"You zoned out for a bit there."
"I was thinking about Batman."
"Okay, well, have you considered my offer?"
"Yes. OKay, you can weigh me."
"Thank you Andy, thats really helpful. Come back over here, then. I promise, it will be really quick." Ashley stared at me for a bit. I took a deep breath, and stepped up. I closed my eyes, as not to see the number at the end of the horrible little arrow.
"hmm...okay...so your one hundred and f-"
"NO! DON'T READ IT OUT! I DON'T WANT TO HEAR!" I covered my ears, trying to block out the 'one hundred and t' that ran round my mind. Didn't want to hear how fat I was.
"Okay, calm down Andy! I won't read it out, but you are not fat! Your too skinny! Andy, its worrying!" I tried not to listen to him and instead jumped off the scale and put my head in my hands. He was gonna know how fat and disgusting I am, and he'll never look at me and when I'm gone he'll laugh at me. yet again warm tears fell down my face, onto my hands. I tried to wipe them away, but more came. It felt weird because I didn't feel sad, I just felt panicked and anxious.
A hand met my back and I turned to see Ashley.
"What are you d-doing?" Instead of telling me, he wrapped his arms round me and hugged me. It was an unfamiliar sensation, because mom never hugged me. Of course, my fucking step dad never hugged me. He did more, and I hated it, he touched me. But I told Ashley everything.
"Andy, calm down" He was touching my right arm but I at the moment, I don't care. His arms were warm and welcoming, even through the nasty white coat.
"I'll take you back to your room now Andy, okay?"
"Can't I stay with you?"
" 'Fraid not. I would love for you to stay with me, but I have to do something. But I'll come visit you later, yes? Can I come to your room after dinner?" I nodded, though I have no plans on eating 'dinner'.
"How old are you?" I suddenly asked.
"Twenty five."
"Aren't you young to be working here?"
"I always knew I wanted this job. Well, when I was younger, I wanted to be a rockstar" he paused and chuckled "but I knew that was unrealistic, though I can play bass."
"I want to be in a band."
"Really? What would you do?" He actually seemed interested in what I was saying
"You mean will." I corrected, "Anyway, I would sing. I love to sing, and write lyrics."
"Well prehaps I could hear this singing one day?" I giggled,
"Maaaaybeee." I dragged out the word.
"I'm gonna turn that maybe into a yes! Now lets go."

I really like Ashley.