Session 1
10/18/11



Doctor: So, why don’t we talk about why you are here?

Patient: You know the reason just as well as I do.

Doctor: You’re not going to make this easy for me are you?

Patient: What’s the fun in making it easy? If everything was easy I wouldn’t be sitting here with you right now. But don’t worry, I’ll try and make our sessions go as quickly as possible.

Doctor: It’s not about getting done fast, it’s about helping you get better.

Patient: (laughs)

Doctor: What’s so funny?

Patient: “Getting better” sounds like I have the flu or something. Anyways, how do you know that I need to “get better” how do you know I’m not perfectly normal and you’re just wasting your time.

Doctor: Normal people don’t try to commit suicide.

Patient: That’s the thing I don’t like about people like you. You think you know all about people, and just assume that we’re the same.

Doctor: I don’t think I know all about you. I know a lot about other people but not about you in particular; that’s why I want to talk about why you’re here.

Patient: I’m sure you’ve already heard all about it. I took some pills and ended up in the hospital.

Doctor: So, you admit to trying to kill yourself.

Patient: (Laughs) Therapists, you guys just crack me up.

Doctor: What did I say?

Patient: You guys spend all your effort trying to prove me wrong, but instead end up proving me right almost 95% of the time.

Doctor: How did I prove you right?

Patient: Remember how I said that you always just assume things? Well you just assumed that I was trying to kill myself.

Doctor: If you weren’t trying to kill yourself, what were you trying to do then?

Patient: I wish you wouldn’t use the word Kill it sounds so depressing

Doctor: But that’s what you were trying to do right?

Patient: In a way yes, I suppose you could call it killing, but I prefer to use the phrase “Starting over” or “taking the easy way out”. However now that I think of it; I’m glad that you guys stopped me in time. It made me realize something.

Doctor: which is?

Patient: If you won’t let me take the easy way, I guess I have no choice but to do it the hard way.

Doctor: I don’t see what you’re getting at.

Patient: You’ll just have to wait and see.







Cassandra Williams sighed and ran her hands through her blond highlighted hair, which was normally slicked back in to a perfect bun or ponytail. Right now it had fallen out of her ponytail and was sloppily hanging down in her eyes. In all of her 15 years of counseling and therapy she had never run in to a case that seemed hopeless. She was one of the best in the practice, and one of the best psychiatrists in the country too. She had worked with some of the most “incurable” and dangerous cases out there. She had had success too. But this one was with a doubt the hardest cases she ever had. She had never met somebody that she hadn’t been able to get through to. This particular patient made her feel like she was the one who needed help. Cassandra had rarely been in a conversation where she didn’t have the upper hand. She had never had anyone who had bested her in mind games before, either. It wasn’t that her client had been unwilling to talk; no it wasn’t that at all. It was the fact that she, Cassandra Williams one of the top 12 in her practice, had barely gotten to say anything. She hadn’t worked with teenagers in a while. Maybe she was just out of practice. Cassandra sighed again and picked up her clipboard. Today the police had called her in to convince a serial killer to let his hostages go. It was going to be a piece of cake compared to her earlier client. Cassandra stopped, took a deep breath and squared her slender model-like shoulder. If she could talk a terrorist in to surrendering, she could definitely help a moody hormonal teenager.





Session 16
2-9-12

Doctor: Your parents told me you’re acting strange. You seemed to be getting better. You’ve made new friends without transferring schools; you’ve joined a private soccer team. But your parents say, you’ve been acting almost too calm.

Patient: You say that like it’s a bad thing.

Doctor: Well, with the intensity of your case we’d hadn’t been expecting you to recover so quickly. We just want to make sure you’re truly getting better. Not just faking it so your parents will get off your back.

Patient: Who’s we?

Doctor: Your parents and my colleagues and I.

Patient: You’ve been talking to other people about me?

Doctor: Yes, is that allowed?

Patient: I guess it doesn’t matter; won’t have to deal with this for much longer.

Doctor: Is there anything you’d like to tell me?

Patient: (Laughs)

Doctor: You’re worrying me, what’s so funny?

Patient: You wouldn’t want to know half of the things going on inside my head right now.

Doctor: I thought we were past this point, talk to me. Tell me what you think I wouldn’t want to know.

Patient: what do you mean by “past this point”?

Doctor: In our first meeting you said things similar to that.

Patient: Did I?

Doctor: yes, you did. I have it all recorded if you’d like to see it.

Patient: I’ll pass.

Doctor: So what is going on inside your head right now?

Patient: If only you knew.

Doctor: (nothing)

Patient: I make you uncomfortable, don’t I? You’ve worked with tons of “unstable people” like serial killers and terrorists, yet you can’t seem to get through to me. We talk in circles and just when you think that maybe, just maybe I might be getting better; we’re right back at square 1.

Doctor: (nothing)

Patient: You want me to take back what I said don’t you?

Doctor: Why would you think that?

Patient: You blink a lot when I say something you don’t like.

Doctor: (nothing)

Patient: You’re doing it right now.





I allowed myself one last glance in the mirror. I looked good, and I was sure that fact would not go unnoticed at the party. I started down the stairs, easily navigating the many steps even though I was wearing stilettos. Just as I was expecting conversation ceased as soon as I came into view. I watched them as confusion, realization, and finally thinly veiled disgust flashed across their faces. Tonight was the night. Tonight all will pay for their mistakes. I smiled, all their attention was on me. Perfect. “I thank you all for coming tonight. I know I will have a lot of fun.” Their confused muttering filled the air. I heard words like freak and physco and a lot of other words I don’t care to say out loud. They had come expecting to party and have a good time. They really had no idea the party was at my house though, Stupid fools.
Their attention had shifted from me, to their neighbors. I scanned the crowed until my eyes finally came to rest on Lisa Cook. Everyone thought she was sooooo sweet. Few people know what a backstabbing b**** she was. I raised the gun, its weight comforting and almost familiar in my hand. Lisa dropped like a puppet whose strings had just been cut. Red streamed down her neck and soaked the top of her designer shirt a deep crimson. Funny, that color really brought out her gray/green eyes. Too bad she would never get to shop again, if she was, maybe I would suggest that color to her. It was dead silent; the students were so shocked they couldn’t even move. Then I saw their eyes move from Lisa’s dead body to the gun in hand. Then the screams began. The sound of their fear was a sweet melody to my ears. I nimbly leaped down from my place on the stairs. Everyone was panicking, screaming, crying, as they found out that the doors were locked and the windows unbreakable. The gun fired again and Jessica, Brad and Megan, the rulers of the high school social world dropped to the floor; blood slowly trickling down from the holes in their head. They had caused so many people, so much pain. I was just giving them a taste of their own medicine. Someone wrenched the gun away from behind. I turned around. It was Rick, the cockiest person you will ever meet. He was the champion swimmer. I grabbed a kitchen knife I had hind in the side of my dress, and slit his throat before he had time to blink. The knife bit into his soft flesh like butter. He tried to scream but all that came out was a soft gurgle as he choked on his own blood. People were desperately running around, despite the fact they had nowhere to go. The gun fired again and again until the screams ceased and then finally stopped. I heard a soft whimpering in the corner. I turned around; it was Whitney, curled up into a small ball. I had a history with her; we had been best friends before high school, before she betrayed me. “Please,” she whispered helplessly “please, we were friends”. “You had chosen to abandon our friendship a long time ago.” was my only answer. I pulled the trigger one last time. Her head dropped down on to her chest. It was over a last. I typed in the combination on a key pad that was on the far right wall. The door unlocked. I wondered what my parents would think when they come home to 24 dead bodies and a missing daughter. I wondered what my dad would think when he found out that one of his prized guns was missing. But now was not the time for reflection, I locked the door behind me and slipped out the door in to the velvety moist night.