Perfectly Imperfect

Chapter Ten: Sure Thing Doc

2 Years Later [18 years old]

"Fuck off."
"We will make a lot more progress if you refrain from curs-"
"Fuck off."
She let out a fitful sigh from behind her great oak table, lined with personal pictures and stacked diaries. The psychiatrist. Only the 5th one this year, I mused trying to fight back a smile. She seems to be the weaker of the 5 since she's lasted, I glanced at the clock, 3 minutes. Her anger was already brewing.

She saw my gaze venture to the clock.
"The faster you cooperate the faster we will finish", She said coolly. Which technically, is not strictly true, this session was an hour long and would be regardless of what we did during that time.
"Fuck off."
She didn't bite the bait this time, "I wanted to continue the conversation from your previous session," she gestured to my casefile, "have you remembered anything further?"
"I did actually," the psychiatrist sat forward, eagerly awaiting my every word with a pen and paper at the ready, "I remembered how much of a waste of time being here is."
And then, she exploded. A flurry of rage-full comments and gestures caused her ghostly pale skin to flush fluorescent red. She was babbling on about my rudeness, my disrespectful attitude.

"And you will respect me!" She exclaimed, slamming her hands on her expensive looking desk.
"And I", I explained calmly and patronisingly as I copied her earlier tone, "suggest that you calm down. I'm sure they taught you that in uni somewhere, right? You're here for the bonus the government has offered you to be able to crack me like I'm some criminal with prized information. Your books are ridiculously organised, who the hell puts them in alphabetical order, everybody knows you put them in order of size and series. Anybody pompous enough to have calendars stored from 2001 was always going to be easy to wind up. I did not ask to be here, I do not want to be here. You were fully debriefed on this situation prior to accepting my case, this is entirely your own fault for chasing that pot of gold with my name on it. So why don't you just. Fuck. Off." I smirked infuriatingly before adding, "I also think you chipped your desk a little in the process of your rant."

I was going to finish my overly dramatic speech with an equally dramatic exit but before such an idea was even processed, though, a sharp searing pain scratched at the surface of my head, both inside and out, alongside a clawing sensation, like something was trying to get out from the pit of my stomach. There was also a light tingling sensation, hardly perceived in the deafening pain encompassing me, on my right wrist. I fell to the floor in agony, minutes, hours, days. My eyes ached and burned, I clawed at them in a desperate attempt to seek relief. It felt like an eternity had passed before the office door burst from its locks and the pain simmered until it was gone.

Replacing my screams of pain were the screams of shock and horror from my parents and the psychiatrist, still beet red, as they stared at me wide-eyed.
I just scowled at them, I didn't like being looked at. Suddenly the psychiatrist ran to her draw, pulling out a medium sized silver cross, likely from a necklace that broke. "Demon, leave! You are not welcome in my office. Leave!" She exclaimed holding the cross in a shaking hand as though it was damaging me in some way. I looked at my 'parents' for confirmation that the psychiatrist had turned to the dark side, turned as loopy-loo as her clients.

They looked confused. I glanced at the metal plate full of fake fruit. There wasn't a single mirror in the room- apparently not having them creates a feel of deindividuation, of anonymity, or some bullshit. I picked up the plate throwing off the fruit in the process, what's the point of fake fruit anyways, and looked at my reflection. My usual reflection appeared on the surface but it was impossible to ignore the eyes. As hideously intriguing as they were, they weren't normal.

No longer were my eyes their usual green, but instead, had an almost white film over the top of them. Giving them an almost blind look. I could see perfectly fine but my eyes almost looked like they were completely white, other than a vague hint of colour underneath. They were haunting.