Dedicated to LevetteMclaughlin, CristeneMankasingh, you guys are the reason the updates keep coming. Thank you so much.
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June 23, 2005, Dante Age 10
"It's hard to grow when people are constantly throwing dirt on top of you." The therapist says, but I scoff. She is trying to make me feel safe, 'if only she knew.'
"Is it?" I ask, raising an eyebrow and leaning closer to her, 'they chose a girl on purpose, they saw me have trouble pulling the trigger. But I guess they didn't realize it wasn't because she was a woman.'
"Urm, yes." She says looking up from her papers to get a good look at me, 'whatever she is looking for. She doesn't find it, but her interest in me grows.'
"Have you had dirt thrown on you?" I ask with an air of experience. 'It was my nightmare for weeks, waking up in a sealed coffin. Choking under the weight of piled dirt.'
"Well no, but it's a saying. They aren't meant to be taken literally." She says, seeming to laugh nervously.
"What's funny?" I ask pressing at what makes her uncomfortable. It's a part of me, I've never been able to quiet.
"Nothing is funny. It's a nervous tick, is all. What I mean to say. Was being under all that pressure from your-your; your-," She says flipping through my file to determine my relation to Lorenzo.
"Guardian, make you not want to talk about what happened?" She asks, settling on a medium word. I look her straight in the eyes and shrug.
"Can I go now?" I ask, still holding her eyes, even when she tries to look away from me. I smirk at her. That uncomfortableness is becoming the only interesting part of this talk.'
"Well no. Your guardian was quite insistent on a two-hour session. It's only been... thirty minutes." She says her voice goes higher as if she expected a longer amount of time.
"You are a therapist, my therapist... Why does he matter?" I ask softly.
"I'm not a therapist yet, I'm still in training. Your guardian is-, helping me with my progression in the career." She says and I'm not surprised but it opens a scab to pick at.
"Oh you and him," I say, raising an eyebrow and looking at her chest on purpose. She gasps, shaking her head wildly.
"No, I'm on a scholarship! He is one of the benefactors. He is-," She pauses taking a measured breath, "look we are here to talk about you." She says forcing some leadership into her voice but I'm not persuaded. It takes a little pain for me to listen.
"I don't want to talk about me, I'm too interesting for you. How do you know Lorenzo?" I ask and she gets ruffled.
"I don't know him on a first-name basis. He was a name behind a fund, I only know his name now because he needed 'special help' for you." She says getting her control back, 'a pity.'
"I don't-" I go to say but she cuts me off.
"Why don't you tell me how it started huh? How the fire started...? How your brothers died. Who killed your parents? Do you know any of these things?" She asks and for a second the urge to vomit hits me but it becomes hidden just as fast as it comes. The resentment though remains.
YOU ARE READING
Stalking Death (Sinister 1.30)
General Fiction"They're monsters I tell you! They want one thing... Pain."
