[ COMPLETED ]
BOOK 2 of the ORPHIC series
MONACHOPSIS
/ˈmənˌāˌkōpˌsis/
the subtle but persistent feeling of being out of place.
~~~~~
Lucille "Lucy" Opal Baker might be the unluckiest person...
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"Trust is an obligatory promise."
???, Pacific Ocean March, 2012
THERE WOULD BE SOMETHING indefinitely arbitrary about Dr. Schaffer's constant scheming and glimmering presence. He was a turbulent storm of juxtaposing emotions that tore into Lucy's chest, even after all these years. When everything calmed and she found herself sitting across a tranquil Dr. Schaffer, she couldn't help the tremor in her hands. The air felt calamitous, though she seemed to be the only one who felt it. She was faintly aware of Natasha arguing heatedly with Director Fury outside of the interrogation room.
Dr. Schaffer was humming boredly, tapping his fingers against the desk keeping them apart. Lucy's eyes were focused on the metal, her eyes tracking his movements with scrupulous control. She despised him, and she was dubious of his attempts to be something that was irrevocably impossible; he was not a man who could change. Lucy gave him the benefit of the doubt though. She would help him if he so desired, but she would not be surprised when he turned around and stabbed her in the back.
He wanted to learn the aspects of a human, adopt every facet a person had when he was unable to feel any sentiment which was coherent and natural. Perhaps there was a chemical solution to all of this; she could only wish.
"I'm not a therapist." She found the word leaving her lips with a blunt suddenness—she needed to lay down rules and truths. "In fact, I need one myself, if I could."
She lifted her head.
Dr. Schaffer's eyes glittered knowingly, his lips curled upwards into a near sinister smile. Her heart twisted in her chest, another spark of anger clawing up her sternum and trapping itself against her trachea.
She swallowed.
"Your predicament is rather peculiar." He inquired. "But I think you're handling it well."
She resisted the urge to scowl, clenching her hands together.
"I know you want to change for some delirious reason." She pressed. "And that's something I will try but fail in helping you with. You've got this uncontrollable anger and overwhelming desire to control things. You like giving orders. You like hurting others. You understand that that isn't. . .well, it isn't right? If you entertain the thought of friends and you don't want it to be fake like it was before. . .I'm not the one you should seek help from."
She dropped her gaze to the table, a weight dropping on her shoulders.
"I'm too well, broken for that. I can barely look at you. I'm—lost without a handler. James is—" she stopped abruptly "Steve is alive and—do you know what that feels like, Schaffer? To be so close yet so far from everything you want?"
