Degraded

Chapter 7-Sam

Going to the counselors office today, I feel some closure and clearance with where I am.

I shuffle into the dimly lit room and sit down in the plush, purple chair, bracing myself for when the counselor comes in.

Mr. Elke marches into the room, and solemnly looks and examines me, searching for any sign of emotion.

I have been coming to this room for years and kept the same game face. It's not going to change. I make sure to show no sign of melancholy or despair.

Usually, he gets so agitated with me he allows me to leave, letting me off the hook. It works every time.

"Hello." He greets me, pulling out his thick stack of papers from every time we have ever met. He's forced to take notes on how how I am, what I respond to his required questions, blah blah.

I just glare at him with my poker face already painted on, ready to dodge any bullet he shoots at me.

"Hello." I mock him, raising my eyebrows high, as if I am challenging him to a duel.

"How is Sam today?" He says, treating me like a toddler by talking in third person.

"Fine." I respond, bored out of my mind. Short and simple, keep it short and simple, Beatrice says, making my mind stay icy clear and focused.

Coming to the sessions I have with him is like trimming your fingernails. You have to do it whether you want to or not.

"How is Bea today?" He comes out with, making me moan in my head.
He has to try and act cool, Beatrice complains. I completely agree.

"Um... It's Beatrice, and she is okay." I state. She is always okay when it comes to answering him, so why does he have to ask this every single day?

I am fire hot right now, and I need to be cucumber cool.

I imagine a stove flame that is bright red, and I mentally turn the stovetop knob down a couple of notches to a lower temperature. The flame turns a neon blue. Almost instantly, I sigh, relaxing my tense muscles.