12 August 2012
This is going to be hard for you guys to read. I just know it. You're gonna be begging for the next part!
*Drew's POV* "Under stress? What type of stress would I be under?" I asked, feeling slightly offended by his assumptions. Dr. White sat in front of me on a small desk chair, looking like a scientist in his highly-official lab coat. What am I? A test subject or something? "You tell me, Miss Texas" he sighed, using his hands to gesture towards me. "Well, let me see, my rapist now-ex-stepfather attacked my ex-boyfriend, who then hit him over the head with a crowbar, resulting in his death. Does that count as stress, Doctor?" there was no use hiding my sarcastic tone as I spat the words at the superficial man in front of me. He let out a deep sigh once more, still annoyingly calm and collected. What is up with Doctors? They always give you that look. The look that Justin was giving me. The sympathetic, hopeless look, as if I was a lost cause or something. "It isn't always the drama in life that causes stress, Miss Texas. It can be anything. Anything that has been really on your mind lately". It sounded like more of a question than a statement. I think he wanted me to tell him the answer. But did I even know myself? What was always on my mind? Who? "I um... I just broke up with my boyfriend, but that's not it" my voice rang out with denial, sang it around the hospital room, throughout the entire building. "Do you want him back?". "That's not significant" I snapped. "Ah, but it is Miss Texas, otherwise, you wouldn't have brought it up" his knowing tone and telling look made me want to punch him. He was making full sense, and I hated him for it. I should get out of here before I shank him. "Goodbye Dr. White" I said bluntly, lifting myself off the bed and storming for the door. "I'm sorry Miss Texas, but you can't leave yet" he twisted on his chair to watch me stop in my tracks. My hand fell from the door to my side, waiting for his next words. They didn't come, so I prompted him with my own. "And why not?". He rose from his chair, slowly walking over to me, a pitying look on his face. "Because you have to book your psychiatrist appointment" he sighed, and you could tell he was ready for the storm I was about to let loose. "Psychiatrist?" my eyebrows were raised and my mouth hung slightly open, but my tone could have cut through steel. I clenched my fists so tight they went numb at my sides, my chest heaving in anger and also fear of his next words. "We ran a few tests. We think it's best you book a chain of appointments". "Is there something wrong with me?" my harsh tone had disappeared, and was replaced with a petrified, just about audible whisper. The Doctor's face was the same. Exactly as it had been when I'd arrived, and exactly the same just before I could leave. "It could be possible".
"Full name?" the receptionist asked me bluntly, eyes and expression bored and lost. She looked like she'd rather watch paint dry than work in a psychiatrist's office. Justin and Pattie stood behind me, whispering and discussing something. Probably about me. I turned my head and watched them chatter quietly. I bet Justin was saying something like "I always knew she was crazy", and then Pattie would reply "Quick! Let's ditch her here!". "Full name. Please" the portly receptionist spat at me again. She had added a polite word on the end, but you could tell by the look in those devilish black eyes that she didn't mean it. I tried not to look to intimidated as I spoke. "Drew Anna Texas" I whispered, and the woman just about understood me. She continued to ask me for my age, date of birth, address, phone number and... Gender? "Excuse me?" I couldn't help but giggle at her question. What do I look like? A porcupine transvestite? "Your gender. Male, or female" she let out an over-exaggerated sigh and tore her hands through her messy black hair. "Female". She's really bugging me now. I didn't want to come here in the first place, but Justin insisted. "You're sure?" she asked again at my shaky tone. "Last time I checked" I spat at her, getting some of my Texas family kick ass back. I think I made her pee. Charming. I would say I'm more bark than bite, but I'd be lying, and Poppa said not to lie. "It's the last office on the right" she trembled, not so tough anymore. How bout them apples. That's right. Be afraid, woman. I'm angry at the world right now, so do me a favour and get gone. I plastered on a fake smile, before turning to Justin and Pattie. "I gotta go" I stated, gesturing to the dimly lit hallway behind me. Justin came over to me quickly, eyes soft and loving. "We'll be right here" he said reassuringly. I didn't return his loving look, or the caring tone. He's the one that made me come here. "I'm not crazy, and I don't need a psychiatrist. I'm completely sane" I told him, addressing the thoughts he was too cowardly to speak. Before he could even think to reply, I stormed away. Down the hall, to the last door on the right. This place really is posh. Polished oak doors and walls, fancy patterned tile. I'm surprised they didn't have a stained glass window of Jesus or something. I took in a deep, collecting breath, pretending like I didn't need it. My hands were shaking with nerves. What if I am crazy? What if I walk in there, thinking I'm sane and turn out to be completely bonkers? Only time will tell, I guess. I stepped up to the door, and balled my right hand into a confident fist, one thought running through my head as I firmly knocked three times: I am not crazy.
I sat in a smooth, black leather chair in the office, staring observantly around me. The room consisted of a neat black desk, so clean you could see your reflection in it, an expensive swivelling chair for the psychiatrist, which looked like it provided hours on end of drunk fun, a filing dresser so big and daunting I thought it might just come alive and eat me, a single large window behind the desk, looking out over the most civilised area of Apple Springs, smooth wooden floorboards and walls painted beige. The message it sent: Psychiatrists are paid a lot. A woman smartly dressed in a cream, figure-hugging dress down to below the knee stood behind the desk, fancy office phone in hand. She had long, deathly straight black hair, and kind hazel eyes, skin dark and rich. She looked like one of those women you found it difficult not to love. The kind that helps old ladies reach semi-skimmed milk at the department store. "Ok, thank you Mrs. Macaby, I'll be sure to let him know how you're getting on. Thanks, b-bye" she smiled at nobody in particular, politely placing the phone back down on the handset. She silently sat herself down in the swivel chair, tilting her head back and forth from left to right, as if observing me as I had her office. I suddenly felt as if I was doing something wrong. My body language was going crazy as I shuffled about in my seat, trying to find the correct way to sit. "Don't be nervous. I'm here to help" she smiled gently, sliding to her desk and opening a neat A4 writing pad. She started a fresh page and glanced over at the buzzing Apple Mac, before writing my name in ornate, swirly writing at the top of the page. "I don't need help" I muttered. I had a frustrated, harsh tone in my voice, but it was nowhere near as powerful as I wanted it to be. It was so difficult to hate this lady. I felt like I should either put my hand up to speak or be giggling and laughing like she was my Mother. She ignored my previous statement and continued on with a fresh smile on her pretty face "I'm Dr. Angel" she held out her hand for me to shake. Oh, so now she's an angel too. Great. Let's add that to the list of saintly activities. Right underneath being an organ donor. I bet she gives blood too. Evil woman. I bluntly refused her hand, and she let out a disappointed sigh - just like my Mother would - before sitting back down. "So, Drew. You were referred here by Dr. White, from the local Apple Springs Hospital, yes?". "That's right". "You've been having pains in the upper skull?". "Yes" I was already getting impatient with questions she obviously knew the answer to. It was all on her stupid computer. She picked up a fountain pen and wrote something down on the first line of the white notepad. "So besides the pains, how have you been feeling?" she asked softly. "Fine". "Anything upsetting you?". "No, I'm fine". "Any stress?". "I said I'm fine" I snapped, and immediately the questions stopped. She took a long, good look at me, biting her lip and slowly shaking her head, as if fathoming me. "You're not very trusting... Are you Drew?". I felt blood rush to my cheeks. "I've already been accused of that today" I mumbled, trying to hide the blush with a curtain of dark red hair. "I can see you're not very open with your emotions, and I don't blame you. You don't know me, and I don't know you, so why should you let me get in your head?" she stated, fiddling with the fountain pen in her hand. I didn't realise she was waiting for an answer, but the prompting look she gave me made me speak. "I don't know" I muttered. "Because your Doctor, Doctor White, believes that you need me. He's gone out of his way to email me every tragic detail of your past, right from when you where born. He could have told you, 'Its just some stress, go home, sleep it off' but he didn't. He has had years, and years of work to get where he is now, and if he says you need my help, then you need it" her speech was strong, and for some reason very moving, and by the time she had finished, I still didn't know what to say. "Are you ready to talk with me?" she asked, her voice still kind as well as her eyes. "Yeah.." I nodded a bit. She let out a short, triumphant breath, and scribbled a bullet point in the margin of the paper. "Has there been anything... Off... Or anything you feel that's affected you lately?". "Um... The man that raped me was killed
Texas Girl (Pt 44) • Opuss № I