Izoven: Song of Fire ✓

Chapter 1

⤝◈◈14 YEARS LATER◈◈⤞

"Emery Wright," Dr. Lloyd called her, lowering her flashy red eyeglasses to search around the waiting room. "Ah, there you are. Good to see you again. Come on in." The doctor nudged her head toward the open door.

Emery took a deep breath and put on her best smile. This was her thirteenth time walking through that insufferable beige door. Yes, she'd kept count.

She stared at the back of Dr. Lloyd's sleek, uptight ponytail as they walked into her office. As usual, the doctor had gelled and hairsprayed it to the point where it barely moved. Emery tore her eyes away from her and sought out her seat in Dr. Lloyd's 'safe space'. It was furnished to put the patient 'at ease', but no fleece cushion or burgundy sofa could ever make Emery feel at peace with being here.

The doctor took a seat on her usual armchair, right across from Emery's couch. Her pale hands reached for a notebook that rested on top of the stack of manila files next to her.

As usual, Emery refused to sit back and get comfortable. She just sat up straight, at the edge of her seat, and tapped her boot against the floor.

"So," the doctor began, "how's your week been?"

Emery replied as she always did, making sure Dr. Lloyd knew she was in her best state of mental health. "Great. I discovered a new coffee shop with Seth last Thursday. We've been going there often."

Dr. Lloyd forced her red lips into a simper. "And how are things with Seth?"

"Well . . . It's been about a month since he moved in, and so far there haven't been any fights over chores, but I suspect he's getting increasingly annoyed with the way I fold his underwear."

The doctor let out a chuckle. "Yes, I remember you mentioned he had a touch of OCD."

"I believe I used the term 'King of Neat', but call it what you want. Point is, he barely lets me clean a thing nowadays." She shrugged, earning another insincere laugh. The room fell silent as Dr. Lloyd scribbled down some notes on her papers. Emery furrowed her dark eyebrows, glaring a hole through the doctor's head.

"So," Emery was unable to contain the urge to ask, "today's our last day, right?" She shrunk back into the sofa, cringing at the incoming answer.

But, what was she worried about anyway? This session, like all the others, had gone smoothly. No mental breakdowns, no crying, nothing. She was fine! The questions were answered honestly, her attitude was flawlessly optimistic, and she smiled at just the right times.

However, her optimism shattered when Dr. Lloyd reached for her glasses and laid them on top of the papers next to her.

Crap . . . Mission failed.

With an exhausted groan, Emery fell back against the cushions and blurted out, "No. You've got to be kidding me." She ran a pale hand through her short black hair while throwing her head back to stare at the ceiling.

"Emery." The doctor sighed, the condescension in her tone making Emery's ears hot. "I can't let you retake the police exam. Not yet."

Her blood boiled. "Why not? You know I'm fine. I've been fine ever since I walked through that door nine weeks ago."

"I understand you think that—"

"I aced that first exam. I know I did. I could tell you all the right answers now if you asked me. I am in top physical condition. My peers gave countless recommendations. I am ready. So, why? Why won't you let me pass the damn psych exam?"