Confessions of the Dark ~ #RXC 226

“Dig deep…” she said, “and look inside yourself” as she scratched out notes on her notepad.

I rolled my eyes a bit and slumped in my seat. I wondered what she was writing down on that piece of paper. I couldn’t see it, but I bet she was doodling. She was probably bored to death, especially since I was not volunteering any information to the conversation. I am a quirky person, and “socially unacceptable” was the title I gave myself. I figured I would use the time to torment the good doctor to see how far I could go before she started asking the more usual questions.

“Doc…you are the professional. Shouldn’t you be asking me questions or something?” I poked with my words for an answer. “Dig deep? About what? You haven’t asked me anything. You want me to tell you about how I had a horrible childhood and daddy issues, is that it? Do you want me to talk about how both of my parents hated me? How deep do you want me to go, Jane?”

The psychiatrist jotted more things down on that annoying piece of paper before speaking. My eyes rolled some more at the scrape of the pen on the parchment, and I crossed my arms. My legs began fidgeting as much as my fingers atop my forearms.

“Where is this anger coming from, Amy? Why are you getting agitated?”

The doctor crossed one leg over the other and looked at me. I noticed her manicure. It was pretty on her hands, which looked delicate. Her dark hair was pulled back into a messy bun, and she was dressed like a doctor with a lab coat and functional shoes. For the most part, she was just doing her job. I wanted her to do more than her job and connect with me. I could not feel comfortable in the current setting. She kept looking over the top of her glasses like a librarian.

“Please…stop doing that,” I exclaimed. “I inherited their anger issues too…a windfall of their sperm and egg, I guess.”

“What am I doing that is bothering you?” She tapped her pen on the paper intentionally “Is it this makes you uncomfortable?”

I was the last patient of the day, and I noticed a run in her stockings. Her shirt was wrinkled in the front where her body bent throughout the day. I was dressed casually because sessions with Jane, a moniker to protect herself from psychotic patients, didn’t appeal to make me dress up and be presentable. I always felt like a piece of venison laying in a wilderness full of bears that were ready to eat me when I had a session with her.

“Looking over your glasses at me like I am in trouble or something…I don’t like it. I can see my reflection in the lenses.”

She sat her glasses on the table over to the left of us, and asked, “Is this better?”

I nodded in agreement.

“When you are angry, what feelings do you have? Could you share those with me?”

She went back to the damn pen and paper.

“I don’t know if you can handle it, Doc…It’s pretty dark inside of my mind.” I smirked at her.

You could tell Jane the doctor was uncomfortable at the smirk. She thought this credulity of mine was something to fear. She readjusted herself in her chair and coughed like she had a dry throat. I don’t know why her discomfort made me feel happy. I suppose I didn’t like her much. She annoyed me.

“Sometimes, my anger feels good. Sometimes my anger feels bad. Sometimes I do something about it. Sometimes I am zoomorphic changeling of a mythical creature, and I turn into a dragon to take care of people that tick me off!” I said with another serious sinister scowl. It was hard not to break out laughing at the nonsense I was spurting out of my mouth. However, it was fun to watch her squirm.

I laughed out into the air a little at the thought, and you could tell Jane was coming undone from her solace. I would just wait for her to make it official to end the meeting because she couldn’t sit still. I was pushing all the right buttons.

She cleared her dry throat again, “Okay…that’s something we should talk about, right? You sometimes like your anger. Would you ever hurt someone or yourself when you are having these feelings of good and bad anger?”

“I’m not answering that on the record, Doc. You are making an amenable effort to not be obvious, but you are timid right now. Aren’t you paid to be cool, calm, and collect?” I had to test her because I didn’t trust her with my darkness. “I’m a tragedy…I know.”

Her red flushed face was staring into my eyes, and she tried to facilitate my trust. “You can trust me. I cannot tell anyone what you tell me. Whatever you say stays in this room and is for my ears only.”

I looked away…my head shaking in disbelief. Did she really think I was stupid enough to buy that spiel? I became taciturn to any more of her questions. I would never give her my confession. “You’re not worthy. Are we done yet? Can I get my gold stickers and be on my way?”

“Not until you answer my question…”, and she put her glasses back on. She looked over the top to be matter-of-fact. “You can go after you answer. Do you have something you want to confess?”

She looked like she was ready to call in the armed security guard she posted outside of the office. She was one of those therapists that were just looking for a reason to petition the court to deem a client as “crazy” to ship them over to the psych hospital. She had no business working with people like me, and I became maddened by the action of her putting those glasses back on…”I’m not telling you anything.”

Mission accomplished. She failed. As she jotted more things down on paper, I got up from my chair and went to the window. I looked out at the night sky and waited for the time to run out on our session. As I left, I told her, “You’re fired…”

Written for Reena’s Xploration Challenge #226