Superhero Therapist Novels & Stories

I turn to see his metallic green eyes staring at me. "Do you want to know my inspiring survival story? My dad, the ultimate superhero, beat, starved, and terrorized me. I was so traumatized that I'd flinch at the mere mention of his name. But then, I had an epiphany – I realized he was just a pathetic excuse for a human being. And voilà! No nightmares, no screaming for Mommy. I'm basically a self-made therapist." He pauses and I don't fail to notice the smile on his face as he says those words.

“Oh, that’s right. I haven't told you, have I?” Sage said lightly. Her smile widened, blooming into something bright and really warm. “Molly Martins. She’s my therapist.” Piper froze. “You’re… seeing a therapist?” she asked, blinking in disbelief. Sage nodded with a pride so soft it almost glowed. “I thought it would be good to receive some sessions, to help me recover properly. She suggested I let my past go. And that’s exactly what I’ve done.”

“I am calling to follow up. I am wondering if you still need a crisis manager and coordinator for Leo.” “Ah…” He spoke in a low, raspy tone. I closed my eyes and sank into my cushion. “It's fortunate that Leo has been without a consistent specialist for days, then.” “Oh,” I said, hope surging. “He has?” “As much as I hate to admit it, yes. He seems to fail to establish rapport with any of the specialists I've hired. He resists their structured therapeutic approach.” Xender confessed. “Leo and I established rapport quickly. I connect with him on the level of safety and predictability. That is a clinical advantage.”

Prior to heading to her room, I took the necessary steps to contact a trauma therapist, someone I could confide in without reservation. The harsh reality was that Sophia was now a fugitive, courtesy of her father's actions. I needed a therapist who was not only competent but also willing to safeguard the darkest secrets. Finding such a professional might be challenging, but I was fortunate that the individual I contacted was willing to honour that commitment. We discussed his terms, and I agreed to them. My hope was that he would commence his work the following day once Sophia had fully rested and perhaps grown a bit more at ease. Furthermore, I prayed for progress. Sophia needed to confront

“I can’t believe the both of you kept your condition a secret. If anyone finds out do you know how dangerous it’ll be for you-” “And that’s precisely why we didn’t want to tell you guys or anyone else. Well, that, and the fact I just didn’t want to worry anyone. I’ve been seeing a therapist and Steven’s been helping me practise using my powers considering there are only six days left for school to commence for the new term. Though, I don’t think today’s training went well considering…” I trail off, raising my hands weakly to indicate my presence in the infirmary and she shakes her head with a look of worry and anger.

“That’s the last thing I need. A hot therapist judging me while I tell him all the ways I’m messed up.” “Or maybe,” Mia said slyly, “that’s exactly what you need.” I groaned, but when she handed me her phone, my eyes fell on his profile. Dr. Zayn Steele. Sex Therapist. The picture showed a man in his early thirties with sharp features, messy dark hair, and a piercing glinting on his lip. His tattoos crawled up his forearms in the photo, half-hidden by his rolled-up sleeves. Something about him made my stomach flip.

"But I need you to know that I'm not the same man who hurt you. I'm trying to be better." "Why should I believe you?" I asked, gripping the phone tighter. "Because I'm telling you the truth, even when it makes me look weak. Because I resigned from the company that was my entire identity. Because I'm seeing a therapist twice a week to understand why I hurt people I care about," he said, his words rushing together with earnestness. "You're in therapy?" I asked, unable to hide my surprise. "Dr. Faith. She specializes in attachment disorders," he said, laughing bitterly. "Turns out I have a lot of work to do."

"Sorry. I didn't mean to wake you." "Don't apologize." He pulled me against his chest. "Same dream?" "Different variations of the same theme. Failing to save someone." I pressed my face into his shoulder. "My therapist says it's delayed trauma response. That I suppressed everything during the two years of emotional emptiness and now it's all surfacing at once." "Your therapist is probably right." I'd started seeing a therapist six months ago. Dr. Reeves, a supernatural psychologist who specialized in soul trauma. Adam had suggested it after walking in on me having a panic attack in Lucia's nursery.

“Bronx says he’s never seen you give up. So I think you’ll do whatever you need to get better.” “Shit.” I shake my head. “Sometimes I hate that your brother knows me so well.” “Don’t worry.” She shrugs. “He didn’t say much else. Bronx is Bronx, after all. Ashley and I have been working to bring in specialists. It’s a matter of salary and confidentiality contracts. We should have two new therapists here in a couple weeks.” With my hand against the side of her face, the mate bond calms my mind. Her shining green eyes make everything else seem dull. Did I hear everything she said? Not really. Does it matter? I hope not. A warm feeling in my chest helps me relax more than the cookie.