Insert Hipster Title With No Relevance To The Actual Story Here

Chapter 2

The bombshell didn't have quite the effect I expected it to. For someone who had just heard that the only other person in the room say that they were a suspected murderer, Dr. Lester just sat there unnaturally at ease. It was only then I realized that it was because of my idiotic oblivion that I had forgotten that this wasn't new news to her, since CNN had already informed everyone that "A California Teenager Was Believed To Have Been Killed By Her Supposedly Jealous Twin Sister" last week. Marissa would have been proud of all the attention she was getting, even if it did regard her death.

"How is my psych evaluation going, Doc?" I asked.

"Psych evaluation?" Her words were surprised. "That's not why you're here, Lana."

"Oh no," I groaned, " Please don't tell me that this a therapy session that will help discover my "true feelings" towards my dead sister."

"I wasn't going to. But I will ask you to elaborate on your thoughts towards Marissa."

"Well, they were never incestuous," I clarified. "I'm not into that kind of thing. Incest is wrong. Also, me liking Marissa more than a sister would also mean that I am a lesbian, which I'm not. But then of course there is the case of Natalie Dormer."

"Lana?" Dr. Lester interrupted. "Serious answers, please."

"Do you really want to know what I think?"

"I do recall making that explicitly clear."

"I thought my sister was the world's biggest airhead. While many other girls would have seen her life as picture perfect, I just thought it was extremely pretentious and overrated."

"And why would her life be considered picture perfect?"

"Oh, I don't know. People have such a skewed view on reality."

"Then see it through their eyes,"she suggested.

I sighed, annoyed that she was asking me to explain things from the perspective of a lesser mammal. "Well, I guess it's because of the designer wardrobe, the fact that everyone at school knew her name, her "hot" boyfriend and her group of lackey's would shower her with compliments on a daily basis. The American Dream," I remarked sarcastically.

"Now, how did you see all of this?"

"The money that went into her clothes was ridiculous, since a $95 plain white t-shirt with a tiny Marc Jacobs logo in the corner can be recreated with a $3 shirt from Target and some thread. Her boyfriend was nothing but a dumb idiot and to me looked like an orange on steroids rather than the next sexiest man alive. Oh, and said boyfriend was cheating on her with her so-called best friend, a fact I know from a rather unfortunate encounter," I cringed at the memory. " And as for her adoring fans, they loved her in fear, their attention only brought to her when she demanded it. Now, all this of course, coming from my mouth, just makes me look like the envious sister, the rambling that is my thoughts a desperate cry for attention."

" I wouldn't say that."

"And what would you say?" my voice was almost accusative, expecting an answer that was essentially the SAT word for jealousy, or some personality disorder.

"I would say that you, Lana, are extremely misunderstood," she stated, giving me a small smile.

Now it was my turn to be shocked. In a matter of 45 minutes, Dr. Lester had become one of the six people that actually understood me.

"No need to look so surprised," Dr. Lester said, her tone mimicking mine from the start of the session, " After all, I wouldn't be a renowned psychologist from Johns Hopkins if I couldn't understand my patient's problems."