Snowblood

Chapter 4: The Troubled Teen

Kari Darrow looked down at the address on her phone and then up at the tenant listing posted between the elevators. She was fifteen and painfully aware of it, yet at the same time painfully ignorant. When it was clean and styled, her hair was the chatoyant  honeyed brown of tigers-eye, but she hated it because it was not white-gold, like Maia Arion's, the current hot model/actress. She longed to be beautiful, because beautiful people were valued and loved, yet such was her emotional state that even washing her face seemed as heavy and pointless a chore as emptying the sea with a teaspoon.

Dr. Angela Thorold, Suite 803, 4:15, her phone said, and 'Dr. A. Thorold, Ste. 803, Family Therapist' was right there on the board. She didn't want to be there, but Aunt Alison had made it quite clear that if she didn't start proactively dealing with things, she wasn't going to be living with them much longer. 'Proactively' was Aunt Alison's way of putting it, not hers.

"You're depressed, and we get that. Really. After the last couple of years, I'd be more worried if you weren't depressed, but that doesn't grant you a pass to get out of dealing with your issues. We've been patient up until now, even when you brought a pet home without asking permission first. You're a great kid, and we love you, but if you want to keep on living with us, there are some things you need to do.

"First of all, once a week at least, all your dirty clothes have to make it into the clothes hamper. Second, you have to shower every day and wash your hair every other day. Third, you have to see a therapist for an hour once a week. If you want, you can go to a different therapist every week until you find one you like. I will be checking up to be sure you actually keep your appointments, by the way."

"What happens if I don't?" Kari had asked, feeling defiant.

"That's up to you," her aunt had replied. "You could go to live with your father again, you could put yourself up for adoption, you could even move to The Dirt and eke out a living killing minor chimaeras. I advise against that last one, though. We're not saying you have to leave. We don't want you to leave. We just want you to take better care of yourself, inside and out. Only people who are in the last stages of clinical depression are allowed to not keep up decent personal hygiene.  If  you're that depressed--and I don't think you are--then you need more help than we can give you here at home.   If that is the case, then tell me now, and...I'll see if Children's Hospital has room in the Psychiatric Ward."    Aunt Alison and Aunt Maggie knew about that place from experience with her cousin Jake.  Nobody wanted that to happen again, but she knew that because of her mom, everybody was watching her extra carefully.

So there she was, about to see therapist number three. Her phone said it was 4:12, which was cutting it pretty fine. Putting her phone away, she stabbed the up button with her finger and waited. Two seconds later, she stabbed the button again. There was no sign that the elevator was responding, let alone on its way.

Fifteen was not an age known for its patience. "Damn it," she swore, and made for the stairs. From his place in her hood, Boo squawked in complaint, flapping his wings, then dug all his claws into her jacket's shoulder padding and held on for dear life.

Wrenching the door open so hard it crashed into the wall and stuck there, she sprinted up all eight flights, taking the steps two at a time, and was barely breathing hard when she reached the eighth floor landing. Even then, she didn't bother to stop and push the bar to open the door to the hallway-she simply leapt, drawing both knees up, and kicked it open, transitioning the move into a smooth tuck-and-roll on the carpet. It was easier to move and just not think.

She had the full enhancement package, of course-strength, stamina, reflexes and brain boost. Hers was not a temporary juicer either, but a custom job, a complete genetic optimization. Paid for by her dad's Pursuant medical coverage, of course. He had the premium package. It also paid for her mother's care at the assisted living facility, because what had happened, happened within six months after the divorce, while she was still covered. Not that that would have mattered to her father, because he would have paid out of pocket if he had to. He paid for all the extras the basic coverage didn't extend to.