The Shrink Program

Part Three

I could get angry. Lash out. But he didn't deserve that... and I knew it.

Having been a trouble maker my entire life... I knew how to swallow my pride and take a scolding if I had truly earned one.

Only, instead of ripping me to shreds and painting the walls with my blood like he obviously wanted too... my Supervisor sighed.

All the tension in his body left with that one breath, his expression pinched with regret as he fell to sit heavily into his own chair.

"I honestly don't know what to do with you, Maddison." He said, covering his tired expression with a hand.

My heart fluttered with fragile surprise.

As angry as he might be, you either had to be missing a heart or a brain to yell at someone so obviously sorry.

There hadn't been many adults in my life who valued my feelings over their own professional obligation.

More than respect... It made me like him... Though only just a little.

I was still rebelling against the unjust system, after all.

Though the danger had seemed to have passed, I couldn't help but shift nervously in my seat, searching for something to say...

Something that wouldn't get me killed.
"You don't really have to do anything... I'll just stay...here..." Even I flinched at how uncharacteristically meek those words sounded on my tongue.

... Defeated.

My Supervisor raised his head enough to send me a wary look.

Even if he recognised my depression, the older man was smart enough to tiptoe around the issue for now.

Or at least be indirect about his prodding.

"Speaking of which... How has your stay at the Facility been so far?" He asked, settling more comfortably into his chair.

I struggled to keep from squirming.

"Fine, I guess," I said, looking at everything in the room but him. "I made a macaroni necklace in Arts and Crafts yesterday. I figured I'd need it if they didn't start serving actual food here soon."

Not a lie.

"... I heard that you got into a fight..." My Supervisor hedged carefully, and I couldn't help a small guilty flinch.

"Fights actually. Plural." I admitted with a shrug. "Most of the kids here have found themselves on the bad side of the law, after all. Not criminals really, just people like me..."

Violent brats who need a wake-up call.

"No to worry, though." I finally met My Supervisor's eyes with an encouragingly, bright smile. "Compared to the fights I'm used to, these are like mild exercise. Besides..."

My expression soured slightly, and I found my arms crossing again

"... the Supervisors here break them up before they can get good anyway...."

Thinking of the giant supervisors made upset little butterflies hop in my chest. Can't say I'm exactly a fan of the whole 'Constantly being monitored' thing.

Despite best efforts to ignore the issue, I couldn't help but send a glance to the glass wall that stood between me and the outside world.

Beyond the glass was a huge white room, bare of furniture, but full of giant people. Supervisors.

People who, like my own Supervisor, were responsible for the safety and rehabilitation of every shrunken teenager here.

In a way, the Facility was very much like Apollo's dollhouse.