Distract and Sedate H.S

Chapter Zero

Present time

Hazel Rodgers.

Exiting the private discussion room of the River Valley Childhood Psychological Services, I paced through the dark-carpeted halls to my office. I shut the opaque glass door behind me and slid into the far too large office chair.

God. I was exhausted.

There was a knock on my door. I issued an irritated sigh and stood, straightening my pencil skirt before stepping to the door.

Valerie greeted me with her friendly smile. "We have a new little girl here to see you this morning, Dr Rodgers."

"Oh, is that the Styles appointment?" She nodded. "Send her in," I instructed, leaning against the back of my desk. I expected my assistant to return to the waiting room but instead she ushered a child from behind her into the office room.

Messy, honey brown hair fringed over half her forehead, the rest sprawled over her shoulders and back like leaking paint on a canvas. I smiled at her pretty face, noticing how each time she tried, she failed to reach my eyes.

"Thank you, Valerie," I murmured, offering her leave.

I stole one last look at the timid child in front of me. Her eyes were a light green. There were the usual things I could point out at a glance, but for this girl I decided not to form any notions.

"What's your name, sweetheart?" I asked softly, bending my knees slowly to be on my haunches.

"Darcy," she muttered, fiddling with her tiny fingers. Her doe-like, forest-green irises lifted up to me for the first time before they fell to the ground. They had held fear and worry. Maybe even confusion.

"Can you tell me how old you are?"

There was only an unresponsive silence. I recognised her bottom lip's quiver.

"Darcy, you don't have to do anything you don't want to," I murmured, moving back from the little girl to allow her a larger personal space.

She nodded slightly. We were making progress. "Can you tell me on your fingers?"

She hesitated, drew her hand up apprehensively and displayed four fingers. This was far from a four-year-old's normal behaviour. I hid my surprise with a soft smile.

"Darcy, when you have supper, who sits at the table with you?"

She answered near a whisper. "Daddy and Grandpa."

"Is Daddy a good cook?" She just nodded.

"And do you know why you're here, honey?"

"My mommy's gone."

I took a moment to read her expression. It was roughly between a pout and restraining tears. I saw her eyes start to glisten and changed the subject.

"What is he good at making for you?"

She looked up at me, made a soft and heart-wrenching hiccupping sound before a tear cast down her plump little cheek.

"Crying is okay, sweetheart."

"Daddy always says I shouldn't," she blubbered, wiping her eyes viciously.

"Does your daddy ever cry?"

She shook her head, the tear parting from her chin to the wooden floor.

"When you cry, your body gives off a hormone and it makes you feel better," I explained. "So it's healthy to cry, Darcy."

She didn't say anything, too busy trying to dry her eyes. I reached up to my desk and pulled down my abyssal box of tissues. I offered it out and she paused again before taking one.

"Do you remember your mom?" I asked gently.

She nodded. "She had blue eyes."

"Do you remember anything else?"

"My grandpa said she used to fight with Daddy at night." My heart clenched at my core and I let out a staggered breath. I felt in some way connected to people's feelings, as if they radiated them through me and I could sense the intensity of their pain.

"Do you know where your mum is now?"

She only shook her head, staring past me at something else. She wasn't dead, I presumed. Either she abandoned them, there was a divorce or adultery was committed. There were so many problems I had seen within marriages.

"What do you like to do for fun, Darcy?"

She took a moment to answer. "Sing," she murmured, smiling only faintly.

"Oh, that's wonderful. Are you good?"

She nodded, her smile opening to show a set of small white teeth. Dimples caved into her soft cheeks and I chuckled at how gorgeous she was.

"Daddy must like to hear you sing."

"We sing together," she said, meeting my eyes for the second time.

"Do you like to colour?"

She pondered again, her expressions of deep thought giving me trouble not to laugh.

"Sometimes."

"And other times?"

"I like to dance."

"Me too." I nodded in understanding. "Can Daddy dance?"

She giggled and shook her head in horror. "He doesn't know he can't dance."

I laughed as I moved over to my chair. I exhaled and stretched out my stiff legs. "Do mind if I sit here instead?"

She held her small hands together across her chest. That timid look developed again as if the crack I had made in her walls had sealed itself. Bad move.

"Who do you play with in the day, Darcy?"

"Daddy doesn't have to go to work, so I play with him." Unemployed too.

"What about kids?"

Her head shook twice. "There aren't any around my house."

I sighed soundlessly, glancing to the door. "And what does your house look like, love?"

She held up her hands and shaped it into the air carefully. "It's big, and has a pool and couches, and there's a TV."

I nodded, faking impression for the four year old and continued. "What's your favourite television show?"

"Sesame Street," she replied.

"Do they still stream that? I loved that show," I murmured, straining to try remember the last time I saw it. She laughed softly, her eyes shyly flickering to me.

"Do you want to take a seat?" I asked, gesturing at the chair in front of my desk. She declined and grasped her hands protectively in front of herself.

A heard a soft knock on my door. That was Valerie indicating the end of the session, I remembered. She said Darcy's first session would be very short.

"Darcy, remember what I said before. You don't have to do anything you don't want to. You certainly don't have to be scared of me."

"Why?" She threw me off guard with the question, but I should have expected it at her age.

"Because I don't want to hurt you. I want to help."

A/N

Hello there. Thanks for reading! x

If you had a daughter with Harry, what would you name her?