Despite the absolute car crash that was last night, I've woken up feeling pretty positive. I'm no less terrified of Sefu, but the banished voices are tame this morning, and I've got a sweet sense of relief over the knowledge Christopher is gone for good. That is, assuming the arsehole doesn't try to yell at me from the other side. He seems the type. My wrist is bloody killing me though. There's a lump on it, and it's turning a gross red-purple colour. Looks kind of cool actually. I poke it.
"Ow!"
Not doing that again.
Once I'm out of bed, I patter down the stairs in my pyjamas as quietly as I can. I use the term pyjamas loosely. It's literally an old t-shirt and a pair of grey tracksuit bottoms. I should get some like Chiku's, the ones with the rabbit-badger hybrid on them. It's gone eight so Sefu should have left for work by now, and the kitchen should be a safe zone, but I peek inside first, just to make sure. Phew. No Sefu. No sign of Chiku either. Nice.
"I am ravenous," I mutter, just as Annabel manifests herself onto one the kitchen counter.
"Stop talking to yourself," she says, sounding bored.
"Please, I never have the pleasure of talking to myself with you stalking my arse twenty-four seven."
"I've only just joined you, so you were technically talking to yourself."
"That makes no sense. You heard me, ergo, I wasn't talking to myself."
"Yeah, you were, you weren't intentionally--"
"Let us in! Stupid child!"
"--so technically, you weren't talking to anyone."
I wave my hand at Annabel as a sign for her to shut up, and make my way towards the fridge. She doesn't listen. She's still whining about something. I scan the shelves until I spot what I'm looking for, and grab one of Chiku's cocktails. I take a long glug of the drink, then put it back in place.
"Whoa, hey Felix."
Ava's voice makes me jump, and I smack my head hard against one of the fridge's shelves above me.
"Sorry," Ava offers, but when I stand up and turn to her in the doorway, she's suppressing a grin.
Annabel doesn't even try to hide it. She just laughs. Holy crap, that hurt. Ava heads over to the bread bin, and I'm rubbing the back of my head with my good hand when Chiku barges in. Her pyjamas have clouds on them, which is an interesting development. Her eyes meet mine, and hers narrow.
"Kijana bad!" she snaps, waving her hand in the air.
She starts shaking her head at me. I take it she knows about last night's misadventures then. Her attention doesn't stay on me long because seconds later, she shuffles over to Ava and closes the bread bin.
"Listen to us! Why aren't you listening?"
Piss off. Chiku needs to figure out how to make her cocktails work quicker.
"Fridge," Chiku says, and my attention returns to reality.
I turn to her, and she's pointing one of her pudgy fingers in my direction. It takes me a moment to realise she's referring to the fridge behind me, and not demanding Ava murders me, then stores my body in one. Ava hesitates, clearly trying to make sense of what Chiku is saying.
"Bread in fridge," Chiku elaborates as she nears me, then shoves me aside to open the freezer compartment of the fridge.
She brings out a loaf of frozen bread, then hands it to Ava, who thanks her. Chiku glances at me again, tuts, shakes her head, then leaves the room while muttering under her breath. I think every member of Ava's family has concluded that I'm hopeless by now. Ava must have had the revelation eons ago, and I'm sure Kato thinks it plenty behind my back.
"Let us in! It's cruel!"
I wince.
"Toast?" Ava sings.
I rub my hand down my face, then turn to her. She's holding up a few slices of bread.
"Sure, thanks," I say as I sit down at the kitchen table.
"Who keeps bread in the freezer?" Annabel mumbles from the chair next to me.
"Stops it going mouldy, not great for sandwiches though," I reply. "Hey, where's Lucy? Is she alright this morning?"
"She's gone back to Scotland." It's Ava who replies. She's placing bread into the toaster as she speaks. "It's a bit risky for her to stay around you now."
A pang of guilt stabs me in the gut. I don't know why I have such a soft spot for the girl, considering she's one of the core reasons Connor found me in the first place. I just don't like the thought of him, or any of his dark spirits, tracking her down without us being there to help.
"Not necessarily for good, it's groovy," Ava elaborates. "And being back home will help her remember."
I fidget in my seat. I guess so. I'd half forgotten about the fact she's still trying to solve her own murder, although I don't think she's been doing much solving since we fled Connor's. Before my thoughts can wander much further, the house phone starts ringing, and within moments, I hear Chiku chattering at a million miles an hour from the living room. She's not speaking English, but even if she was, I'd probably not understand a word. Ava starts giggling from the counter opposite.
"Don't take this the wrong way, but your entire family are absolutely nuts," I say with raised eyebrows as I lean back in my chair.
Ava shrugs with a smile on her face.
"Do you not speak, uh--"
"Swahili," Ava offers as her smile fades. She shakes her head. "My mum never taught me. I don't mind, it's groovy," she says in a voice that implies she definitely does mind.
"It's not that groovy, is it?"
She sighs as a shriek of laughter emanates from the living room. "It's not that--I mean, whoa, I get it. Chiku's only recently moved over, but my granddad moved here with Mum when she was pretty young, and she was picked on. A lot. For her accent, how she looked. She thought I'd have a better chance to just be, you know, English."
"That's sad," Annabel says quietly.
That's really sad. Ava's smile returns to her face just as the toast pops up from Chiku's bright red toaster. She's humming as she butters she bread, then hands the finished product to me before grabbing her own plate and sitting down. She's doing that creepy thing where she just stares.
"You need to shave," she announces, her eyes not budging from my face for a second.
Oh, okay. Fair enough.
"Did you see Christopher get banished last night?" Ava continues, and I'm struggling to figure out how my facial hair reminded her of that.
She bites into a slice of toast, and it makes a loud crunching sound. My thoughts flash back to the darkness, the heavy, black cloud engulfing his body as he screamed in what sounded like the worst pain ever. Maybe that was the warm feeling behind the darkness: an evil soul being dragged out of this world. I nod.
"Broke my banished virginity," I reply. "Was it the banished... err, place? That I would've seen?"
"The Banished Realm," she corrects me, then shrugs. "Probably."
Shit. No way am I going anywhere near that again. I ask again about Christopher's likelihood of staying in that place for good, and Ava again reassures me he's not coming back. She didn't even intend on banishing him, she was just trying to force him to leave with the blessed stone. We're practically invincible now, if you ask me. I'll hunt the ghouls down, Ava can banish them, and then bam. Sorted. Not quite sure that would work on Connor given the whole him not being dead thing, but we can oversee that small detail.
I'm about to vocalise this ingenious plan when I hear the front door open, and footsteps in the hallway.
"Good morning!" Lina pokes her head into the room, her blonde hair pulled off her face in a tight plait. Her eyes focus on me. "Ten o' clock?"
Goddamn it. I'd forgotten today was my first therapy session. I flash what must be the most unconvincing smile back at her, and the second she disappears, drop my head onto the table, and groan. I only just avoid slamming headfirst into my half eaten slice of toast.
"I have been told you have been naughty," Lina chirps as she guides me into my temporary bedroom, and I'm rapidly questioning if she has a really, really warped approach to therapy when she elaborates. "You left the house."
Lina nods at the bed for me to sit, while she opts for the small armchair at the end of it. Did someone send out a memo about my hijinks last night or something?
"Are you glad you did it?" she continues.
Is this a trick question?
I narrow my eyes, and speak slowly. "Yeah," I reply honestly.
A tight smile forms on Lina's angular face. "Good."
Okay. No idea what to make of that. Lina starts shuffling through the handbag by her feet, and I don't know if the silence is awkward, or if I just think it is. While Lina is distracted, I take Annabel the Second from the pillow beside me, and place him on my lap. I need all the moral support I can get. Annabel the First is here too, sitting cross-legged in the space beside me, but I'm more comforted by the presence of the soft toy.
I keep my eyes locked on Lina as she pulls some papers from her bag, and I'm absentmindedly fiddling with a loose thread of my t-shirt, wrapping it around and around my finger until it starts turning white. It kind of hurts to move the fingers on my bad hand too much, so it's not the easiest task.
"Stop doing that," Annabel snaps as she bats my hand. "Your finger will fall off."
I roll my eyes, but listen to her because she'll only start complaining again if I don't. Instead, I stretch my legs out, cross them, then start rhythmically tapping my feet together. That must piss her off too because she groans.
"You're annoying when you're anxious"
"I'm not anxious!" I demand, a little too loudly because Lina snaps her head up.
I mutter something about Annabel. Ugh, I don't want to do this. I really don't want to do this.
"It'll be okay," Annabel murmurs, all traces of ridicule gone from her voice. "Felix, just be honest, please. No skirting questions or dumb jokes or pretending. Please. It'll be okay." Annabel places her hand over mine, and the warmth spreads through my skin. "I promise."
Lina promptly informs me she's about to complete a mental health assessment, which is suspiciously upfront. The psychiatrists, counsellors, therapists and whoever else I've been forced to speak to in the past have always tip-toed around things, or not actually said what the hell they're doing, or why they're doing it. The last counsellor I saw was my school one when I was sixteen, so maybe they were like that because I was a kid then. That makes it worse, almost. Kids aren't stupid. Granted, I might be an exception there, but it still applies as a blanket idea.
Lina's questions are confusing. She asks me stuff I can't figure out the relevance of, and I don't half make an arse out of myself with some of the answers. When she asks me about future ambitions and aspirations, I'm not sure 'trying not to die' is the best answer. I was referring to Connor and his demonic spirits chasing me, but I'm not sure that came across. Answering 'what sex drive' when asked about the topic doesn't go down too well either, nor does my attempt to save myself by referencing last night with Carmen. All that does is make Annabel gag beside me. Beats me what the right answers are. Lina did clarify that there were no right or wrong answers, but that's exactly the kind of thing someone would say when there are right and wrong answers.
I can't see the papers she's writing on, but for the first ten minutes or so, she was definitely working her way through some kind of form or questionnaire. The questions were rigid, and she'd quickly dash something down whenever I gave an answer. Since then, everything has turned more fluid. She asks about my ADHD, asks me about life pre-evil brother tracking me down to take over the spirit world, and a load of other stuff which seem disconnected from one another. I was hoping this whole thing would be a half hour tops, but it's creeping up to forty-five minutes now without any sign of release.
Lina without a doubt pays extra attention to my two weeks trapped in Connor's makeshift prison, which coincidentally is what I want to spend the least amount of time talking about. She nods a little too enthusiastically at the mention of me forgetting conversations I'd had there shortly after having them, and wants to know all the ins and outs of my diet and bedtime routine. Not exactly the stuff I thought would be important, but hey, she's the expert.
She pays a more understandable amount of attention on me losing my abilities on the especially shitty days while there. When I'm describing my childhood memory recovery, and how there's a gap between the point where my family were killed and when I found myself alone in the car after it all, she's understandably intrigued. Despite my best efforts, my answers to her questions based around my time in Connor's funhouse are frustratingly vague. It's not even intentional. My memory of it honestly just isn't that great.
A little over an hour after sitting down, Lina announces we're done. I take that as my cue to escape, so I go to lift myself off the bed, but Lina stops me before my feet even touch the floor.
"I am thinking you do not know of any family history of mental illness?" Lina asks as she finishes writing something down.
She looks up as I speak. "No idea." I shrug. "Connor's a sure psychopath, but I don't--"
"He is not." Lina places some papers on the bed, then sits back in her chair. "I do not think so, anyway. He has shown empathy towards you, and his behaviours before turning dark suggest not."
I'm not quite so sure, but I get the vibe this isn't up for debate.
"My conclusion?" Lina suddenly offers.
"Sure, yeah, I guess."
I just want to get out of here. I'm bored of this now. I grab the thread hanging from my shirt, and start wrapping it around my finger again.
"Depression and anxiety: panic disorder, and likely post traumatic stress disorder."
The candidness of Lina's words catches me off guard, and it takes me a second to process what she's actually said.
"I don't--PTSD? That's what war vets have?"
It's not until I've spoken that I realise Lina was still talking. How long has she been talking for? What did I miss? Annabel says something as Lina answers me, and it's Lina's voice I focus on.
"It can be present in soldiers and former soldiers, yes," she confirms. "But it is an anxiety disorder which can manifest from any kind of trauma. Yours seems to have manifested from your parents' and sister's deaths."
"The crash?" I ask, to which Lina nods.
I don't really understand. I must look as unsure as I feel because Lina elaborates.
"Survivor's guilt is at the centre of many of your irrational thoughts, and instances of panic have frequently surfaced flashbacks and thoughts around the accident." She pauses, then nods at me. "When the dark spirit banished yesterday first communicated with you, for example."
It takes me a moment to realise she's talking about Christopher, and then I'm thinking about running into him after ditching Ava's, and he's laughing at me, and the accident is happening except it's not, I just think it is. I guess that was pretty bad. I don't even know why I told her about that.
"You are obsessed with control," Lina announces out of nowhere, and it sounds like an accusation. "Controlling your memories, your feelings, what others see of you, what they know about you. I would think it stems from hiding your abilities for as long as you did. You must stop. I will help."
"Uh, thanks."
God, this is awkward. I wish I'd fled when I had the chance.
"Amen to that," Annabel mutters next to me.
Even Annabel the Second is piercing his buggy eyes into me. Is no one here on my side? I turn him away from me. I don't like control. I literally have zero control over any of the shit Lina mentioned, that's the problem. Wait, is that the point? Am I having a revelation? Is this a breakthrough? Hallelujah, I'm cured.