Don't Scream (Original)

Chapter 6

        Breakfast consisted of fluffy pancakes and mixed fruit, and it actually took me until everyone was done to finish. I went to stand up and dispose of my tray like a good little patient, but Dr. Sprite appeared behind me before I had a chance to take one step.

“Good morning, Abigail.” Her voice was too sweet and her fake smile too wide. Uh oh.

“I have something planned for us today, and I would like to start as soon as possible. Do you need to shower before we go?”

I glanced nervously from Dr. Sprite to a large, advancing nurse named Tina.

“Sure.” I murmured. The bed, and everything else in this hospital, made me feel grungy. I had no clue who had slept in my bed before me, or even how clean the sheets were.

“Great!” Dr. Sprite clapped her hands once and retreated a few steps, the look of deviousness never leaving her eyes. “See you in a bit.”

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        Apparently, I now had two files. The folders were both a drab beige color, had my name printed down one side, and sat neatly side by side atop Dr. Sprite’s desk. We were in much the same positions as yesterday, only this time, there was no tape recorder. Dr. Sprite wore the same outfit she had since I’d met her: White lab coat, black slacks, rectangular-rimmed glasses, and had the same tight bun on the back of her head as she stared at me with the accusatory snottiness she always had on her young face.

“I promise you that I don’t usually bring patients into my office this often.” She drawled and took a sip of something from a plastic travel mug. I stared right back at the icy eyes that were now the only thing visible behind the white mug.

“It’s only because you’re new. Now,” She placed the mug on a windowsill behind her. “Do you know what a psychological evaluation is, Abigail?”

I nodded slowly, still holding her gaze. We had discussed them briefly in psychology class last year.

“Well, the time has now come for yours. As is mandatory for every patient admitted here, a full psychological evaluation is conducted to determine the problem, and ultimately, the best course of treatment. There are three main parts- One of which I’ve already done with your parents. Basically, I’ll be looking at the psychological, social, and biological aspects of your life. The whole process usually takes an hour or more, but your parents have already informed me of your family history, so that should knock off some time.” Dr. Sprite opened one of my folders and shuffled through a large stack of papers before finally pulling out a collection that was stapled in the corner.

“If you find that you want to stop the evaluation after a while, tell me and we can pick up later where we left off. But I think you’ll be fine.”

I remained silent as we both stared each other down. I really didn’t want to do this interview, and I was even more hesitant about the “treatment” she had planned for me afterwards.

“Alright. We’ll start with the social bit first. Even though you had good grades your whole school career, how were you and your friends? How many did you have, if any, and how close were you?”

I wasn’t sure what this had to do with my current predicament, but I decided to play along and tell her about my small group of friends. Besides Jennifer Collins, there were two others: Tasha Richardson and Amber Gray. I had met Jennifer first in third grade, then Tasha in fifth and Amber in seventh. We were all pretty close, but Jennifer was practically my sister. I loved her like family and vice-versa. It was a shame that I never got to say goodbye to her. I made a mental note to see about sending her a letter and telling her my side of the nightmare.

After that came a barrage of questions that included ones like how I interacted with other students, the general public, if my social behavior changed after Andrew’s disappearance, if I was employed, and pretty much my views on life in general. As I answered all her questions, Dr. Sprite quickly scribbled notes or checked things off on the ever-growing stack of papers in front of her.

“So you’re a high school senior who has a car, but no job?” She asked with the most insinuating tone I’d ever heard, and threw in a squint for good measure.

“Totally. My parents also signed the house over to me, and give me all their paychecks.”

The expression that earned nearly sent me into hysterical fits of laughter. I settled for rolling my eyes instead.

“I had a job over the summer at a coffee shop, but I left once school started back up.”

Dr. Sprite closed her mouth and glanced down, but still had a huffy air about her.

“Moving on. That concludes the social part of the evaluation, but would you like to continue on with the psychological? This one will take a little bit longer.”

I steepled my fingers in front of me and glanced at the small clock on the wall next to me. More than forty-five minutes had passed, but I was eager to escape her clutches.

“Let’s get this over with. I can’t stand it.” I intoned flatly. Dr. Sprite looked like she was trying very hard not to say something, but settled for taking a very deep breath. Her cheeks were starting to turn a healthy shade of pink.

“Alright. What angers you the most in life, Abigail?”

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        By the time we were done, more than two hours had come and gone. It was nearly eleven-thirty, and a damn good thing Dr. Sprite didn’t have any more questions for me, because we were now practically at each other’s throats.

“Well, now that we have that out of the way-”

“Thank God.” I interrupted and crossed my arms over my chest while returning her glare. She cleared her throat loudly.

“I’ll have the results as soon as possible, and we’ll see about getting you on some medications.”

A look of disgust fell upon my face.

“I don’t need drugs! I’m perfectly fine.” My voice was probably a little louder than it should have been, but I didn’t care.

“Abigail, even though your family has no documented history of mental illness, it can crop up in isolated cases. The medications we have here are vital for helping you on the road to recovery!” Dr. Sprite explained calmly. If her coffee wasn’t out of arm’s reach behind her, I would have grabbed it and dumped it all over both my case files. Working in the coffee shop for a few months had definitely made me accustomed to the strong aroma of crushed up coffee beans, and my nose helped me identify the substance in the mug about two minutes into my evaluation. From the sweet, light smell coming from under the lid, I would have wagered that she was drinking a white chocolate mocha with whipped cream. Too bad I couldn’t dump it out and see if I was right.

“I don’t need to get better!” I hissed through clenched teeth while shooting out of my chair. Dr. Sprite’s eyes widened and I saw her hand flinch towards her hip ever so slightly. I gave a mocking bark of laughter at her nervous reaction and turned my back.

“Maybe if you people actually listened, you’d realize that.” It felt good to exit her office in much the same manner I had yesterday.