Why Women Burn

Chapter 1

Incompetence did not annoy me anymore. It was something I had learned to be human, something that can't be helped. It gave safety, knowing that no one expected anything more from one than the bare minimum, sometimes not even that. Therefore, I did not curse or scream when my intern walked in and dropped all of my files on the ground. Or when the stench of her deodorant aggressively seeped into my office. I've seen far worse crimes committed. No. I didn't even look up until I noticed that she still stood in front of my desk. It was the smile that threw me off. She was showing me teeth, hair pulled back tightly and showing off her too large forehead.

Even though she had been working for me for almost two months now, she still looked out of place. Too awkward, too nervous. Clients cringed away from her when she got too close, people looked at her like she couldn't be trusted.

"Miss...I was wondering if I could come sit in for the next session."

I had known this was coming. She was eager to learn, good with the paperwork. Though taking her with me into a session with a client would be a much bigger deal then she probably realised. The people that came to me saw therapy as their last opportunity, their last chance of saving themselves. People standing on the edge ready to jump, even the slightest gust of wind could throw them over. Having a sweaty intern scrutinizing them could give them that push.

I quickly looked down at the files she had so graciously brought me. The next appointment was just a consultation. A new client was interested in my services and wanted to evaluate what I had to offer.

"You can be part of the next consultation and then we will see."

I smiled at her, a smile that once had charmed a sultan into marrying me. The intern only blushed slightly and nodded her head so fast I was curious to see if she would snap her own neck.

"Thank you Miss, I appreciate the opportunity!"

The moment she left the office she stopped existing for me. My eyes found the file again. One attempted suicide. Jumped in front of a car. I grimaced. I knew how it felt to hear your own bones get crushed before finally getting the sweet relief of darkness. Though for me it had been a horse wagon, maybe a few hundred years ago, I wasn't sure. But I would never forget the feeling.

I flexed my fingers. It always fascinated me how well they worked even after all this time. Like a well preserved mummy. I grabbed the file and walked swiftly out of my office. The intern reentered my world with an excited smile and twitching hands. I smiled back reassuringly.

"Has my appointment arrived?"

The secretary manning the front desk nodded.

"Room 23."

"Thank you."

I walked head held high, once again falling through the cracks of time and memory into a time where the smell around me was expensive cinnamon and not stale coffee. My hands were covered in diamonds and not paper cuts. The person walking behind me was a king, a husband, a lover, not a nameless, faceless woman.

I liked room 23. It had its own vending machine which for some reason made people a lot happier. Though when I opened the door this time, it was not peaceful or happy. For me it felt like the gates of hell had suddenly appeared at my workplace. It wasn't the interior, nor the vending machine. It was the woman so confidently sitting on the blue couch like she owned it.

I could feel my heart suddenly making a jump, something it had not done in a very long time. My face flushed, my breath hitched. I had such a violent, bodily reaction I had to close my eyes. Surely it must have only been for a few seconds, but it felt like I would never open them again. When you are as old as I am, time starts feeling...hinky. The heat of the desert sun was on my neck again. I ripped my eyes open. Hers was a face I had never wanted to see agains. Now she was smiling at me, that ironic smile I could remember well from the first time I had seen her. Wondrous how decades went by without me remembering even the simple details, how I even have forgotten some of the names I had gone under. But when it came to her, when it came to all three of them I remembered even the smallest smile. Last time I had seen her she was a crying mess curled up on bloody sand. Now she wore a sharp suit, platinum blond hair short and slicked back, silver rings on her hands.

She jumped up from the couch, a move I had seen before and had previously ended in a man's death. For a moment I thought she was coming for me. Maybe this was it. Finally. I had long lost my fear of death, but when I saw her stalking towards me I almost felt human again. It was delightful. She walked past me and right into the interns space.

"Get the fuck out."