The DollHouse(GirlxGirl)

♡Chapter 102

♡Trixie♡

"Hi, I'm Doctor Stacy, what do you like to be called?"

"You can call me Trixie," I hummed leaning back in the seat. I was keeping my shit together for the day, after this me and Parker had placement testing for Norebridge. The commute isn't so bad, it's an hour drive from the university to the Castle and also to the Penthouse in opposite directions. And it's not like Monty would let me drive and Parker doesn't have his license yet, which is shit because how come he gets to ride a horse with a drive's license.

Anyway, it shouldn't be too much of an issue when moving back to the penthouse when it's time to leave.

That's what my mind has been full of for the past few days, commute times, Norebridge, and the testing. It's been successful at making me ignore the fact that I had a date with a therapist.

Now that she's facing me, she looks a bit like Rosie, as far as her long red hair goes. Except Rosie's is way bolder, Doctor Stacy's is a more orange rather than crimson. She had freckles and green eyes and was tall too, but not as tall as Rosie. Too bad. 

She did wear glasses and she was definitely pregnant. It was nerve wracking at first, but intake usually is, the questions, the banter, the getting to know just how fucked in the head I am, or pretending not to be.

"It seems you've been diagnosed with a few things, but I'm really picking out Dissociative Identity Disorder, and some Complex PTSD. I can't imagine you would be schizophrenic that's a bit of a stretch, I'm only sticking to the book, and we can explore other avenues that my arise, do you like that?" She asked pulling through papers and what not. It felt odd, to have her full attention. I've talked to make healthcare provider's but none have actually asked me if I liked anything, I was treated like a name in a hat really. This was more personal, she actually read things about me, no other shrink would do that.

I didn't know what to say, so I just nodded, anything she wants is fine as long as I don't go back to the mental hospital.

"So I've talked to your partners, and they seem to agree that you all use a bit of terminology that I'm not used to, can we go over it?"

I nodded, sitting up as she started, "what does it mean when you're feeling pretty inside, or pink?"

I sighed, this is kind of hard to put into words, "it means I feel little, um regressed enough to not feel anything bad. Pink is pretty all the time, even in bad situations, it's like that. I only feel good emotions and thoughts, pretty head kind of thing."

She nodded, "Is that opposed to feeling ugly inside, what does that mean for you?"

"When I feel ugly inside," my eyes fell to the floor, I didn't want to talk about this today. I wasn't expecting to jump right in but if she did her homework on me then that mean's intake is useless. This isn't a meet and greet, this is day one, I should've been nervous about this all along.

I huffed thinking harder about how to explain it better, putting feelings into words is so exhausting sometimes, "When I feel ugly inside, it's uncomfortable inside, tight, like I'm a balloon filling up with water, like I could explode at any moment. It makes me think things, say things, feel things that I don't want to, things that aren't pretty."

"Why do you think you feel that way?"

I shrugged, "I don't even remember when I started to feel ugly inside, I just knew I felt it and I wanted it to stop, it's always so," I paused to think of a better word to describe my breakdown of character, "painful."

She nodded, dropping the eye contact which made me feel like a breath a little better. 

"You said you regress, when did you start doing that?"