Psychiatrists

Ch. 1: The Last Day of Normalcy

    John Irving once said, "Of all the things you choose in life, you don't get to choose what your nightmares are. You don't pick them; they pick you." I don't know if I believe that's true; but I do believe that nightmares aren't just horrible visions people see in their sleep; they can also be reality.
    They can be misfortunes fired rapidly into one's life, crashing waves of sorrow and terror. But sometimes they don't all start out as a nightmare. Sometimes, you don't realize what's really happening... until it's too late.

    BEEP! BEEP! BEEP! BEEP!
    I groaned as I blindly flopped my hand across my nightstand, trying to locate the clock. When I felt it, I just kinda pet it until I found the button that shut off the alarm. Sighing, I enjoyed the comfort of my bed for a moment longer before forcing myself out of it.
    Despite being half-asleep, I successfully managed to dress myself without choosing an ensemble that resembled a fashion train wreck. The outfit consisted of a black blouse, white blazer, black dress pants, and a pair of black heels. I prided myself on managing to secure a very classy, professional wardrobe.
    Splashing cold water on my face while washing up finally woke me up all the way. It felt like such a lazy morning for some reason. The laziness had seemingly seeped into me, for I just threw my hair into a low ponytail and left it at that. Passing through the kitchen, I quickly made a cup of coffee, grabbed a muffin, and headed out the door. Just like clockwork.
    Even though my car had a full tank of gas, I elected not to take it to work. Rachel was always urging me to at least attempt to reduce the amount of pollution Gotham produced on a daily basis. Besides, I didn't feel like trying to eat and drive at the same time.
   
    The monorail came to a stop at the edge of Old Gotham. From where I got off, it was only a five minute walk to the Gotham Psychological Clinic. It was a small building near the edge of the district; we weren't given much funding since most people seeking psychiatric help usually went to Arkham Asylum.
    As of late, however, the clinic had seen an increase in clients - satisfied clients. It seemed that the clinic appealed to citizens who were in need of emotional therapy a lot more than the asylum did. One thing Arkham Asylum did have over the clinic though, was the number of staff. Over time, Arkham had "stolen" every clinic doctor until there was only one left: me, Dr. Sasha Quinzel.
    It was almost ironic. I'd graduated from Gotham University with a doctorate in psychology when I was 22; six years later, I was the sole doctor at a psychiatric clinic that could easily be shut down by the city government. I'd hoped that my sister Harleen would plan to apply for an internship under me once she graduated from GU, but she'd recently told me that she planned to intern with Arkham. Sigh.
    The only reason the clinic wasn't shut down, or that people even came to it, was because I was actually good at my job. Not to be a braggart, but I didn't receive my doctorate early for no reason. Patients often told me that they felt comfortable around me almost as soon as I greeted them for the first time. They said my voice was soothing and melodic, that I was easy to talk to, that I had a "warm" aura about me.
    I took the praise in stride, and I refused to use my popularity to achieve the "finer things in life." There was nothing extravagant that I wanted. I had a lovely house in Gotham Village, one of the nicer neighborhoods of Gotham, and had a salary that paid for my bills and groceries. Forget about spoiling myself; I devoted my life to helping to heal minds.
    "Good morning, Dr. Quinzel,"  my receptionist greeted me when I walked through the door.
    "Good morning, Michelle," I replied kindly. She handed me the files of the patients I would be seeing that day. Only three, it appeared. Two were long-time clients, one suffering from PTSD; the other had anger issues. The third was a new patient struggling with depression; which happened to be my primary field.
    As I walked the barren hallway leading to my office, I felt a strange pang of loneliness. It didn't make sense to me; I had friends, and I had my sister back in my life... why did I feel lonely out of nowhere? I shrugged it off, and unlocked my office door.
    It had a rather relaxing aesthetic to it: comfy sofas, chairs, and a futon, a container of assorted cookies that I replenished mid-week on the coffee table, paintings on the walls, and a bookshelf against the back wall of windows. I found that clients were more comfortable during therapy if their visits didn't feel so much like a trip to the doctor's, but rather like a visit at a friend's house.
    I opened the curtains to let light into the room. Surprisingly, it was nice day. Granted, it wasn't particularly sunny, but the clouds in the sky weren't gray with rain, and the temperature outside was cool enough to open the windows.
    Sitting at my desk, filing paperwork, I took both contentment and boredom from my clockwork weekly routine. On one hand, it was nice to have a bit of stability, and to not have anyone "have it out" for me.
    On the other hand, it would be nice to have something remotely exciting happen. Even my weekends were rather simple, save for the occasional trip to the bar with Rachel. I couldn't help but wish for an interesting incident to happen, just to spice things up for a change.
    Heh. Well, like they say: be careful what you wish for...