Quoth The Raven

Psychological Warfare

The town of Jericho was exactly what Amity pictured it to be—small, colonial, and from the dirty looks the townsfolk gave Principal Vernworth's deep blue car, very close-minded. It definitely didn't make the trip to therapy any easier.

"You're in incredible hands, Amity," he told her, fixing a stray lock of hair as he peered in the rearview mirror. "Countless Nevermore students see Dr. Kinbott, and they sing her praises." He turned his shiny smile towards her. "Maybe you and I could grab some hot cocoa at the Weathervane afterwards?"

"Sounds horrible. Just drive me back." Amity started to get out of the car, then stopped as Principal Vernworth cleared his throat.

"Given your history, I think it's safe to assume you'll attempt to run away," he said calmly. "I'm here to prevent that from happening. So if I do not see you exiting this building in exactly an hour, and you do not immediately get back into the car, there's gonna be consequences. And phone calls."

"I don't listen to threats given by someone wearing a fur-lined coat and too much hair gel."

For the first time since she'd met him, his smile vanished. "Watch yourself."

Amity climbed out of the car.

She ran over the plan in her mind as she walked into the office space, careful to keep her eyes ahead. For it to work, she'd have to suffer through at least five minutes of therapy.

The instant she stepped into Dr. Kinbott's office, she changed that to two minutes.

Dr. Kinbott herself was a smiley blonde woman who seemed to value white and beige over all other colors, and her office matched her perfectly. Between the minimalist furniture, the avant-garde bookshelves, and the little trinkets on every surface, Amity stuck out like a sore thumb.

"So, Amity, I received your evaluation from your previous therapist," Dr. Kinbott said as she ushered her in. "She spoke... um... she spoke of you."

"Dr. Bronstien," Amity recalled. "She suffered a nervous breakdown after our last session. Had to take a six-month sabbatical." She sat down on the couch, giving the doctor a defiant look. "Nice to meet my new adversary."

Dr. Kinbott sat down across from her, giving her a small smile. "This is a safe space, Amity. You can feel free to discuss whatever's on your mind."

"I don't think you'd be too pleased to unearth the dark depths of my inner thoughts." Amity looked down at her fingernails. "And I truly and honestly don't see why this is necessary. I'm an incredibly well-adjusted individual."

"You mutilated a boy and showed no remorse," Dr. Kinbott reminded her.

"He lost. A testicle," Amity said slowly. "I did the world a favor. People like him shouldn't be allowed to procreate."

Dr. Kinbott sighed and sat forward. "Amity, therapy is a valuable tool to help you understand yourself. It can teach you new ways to deal with your emotions."

She gritted her teeth. "I don't do emotions."

"Let's try a different approach," Dr. Kinbott continued, barely looking fazed. "I understand you're a writer?"

All right, this was a subject she could talk about.

"I've written a series about a girl detective named Hecate Thorne," Amity told her, shifting slightly in her seat. "I've become quite invested in her."

"Have you sent any of them off to a publisher?" she asked.

"One described my work as 'gratuitously morbid' and suggested I seek psychiatric help."