Amalgamate

Bambi Piccini

"Miss Piccini," The man spoke after rustling through a notepad, easily finding the notes from their last session. Beginning to tap his pen against the paper, he continued to speak, his dark eyes locked onto the slight teenager. "Last week, you mentioned your brother, but we ran out of time. Would you... like to delve into that some, maybe tell me a little bit more about what happened to Be—?"

"Benedetto," Bambi whispered, interrupting her therapist's feeble attempt of pronouncing her older brother, her twin's name. The correction had been unplanned, a knee-jerk reaction to 'defend' the honor of her sibling, and it had taken the man off-guard, his posture straightening. "It was an accident," The blonde witch continued easily, moving past her little slip like it had never happened, the lie tasting all-too-familiar as it slipped off her tongue. "He had always been... incurante, careless, but so... brave. He liked to... hunt," She murmured, taking advantage of the American man's ignorance of her home, of the culture, knowing he wouldn't even think to question it any further.

"So he... had an accident, while hunting?" Jacob, though Bambi would only call him 'Mr. Ford', questioned, arching a brow as he scribbled in the notebook. She hardly cared what he wrote, knowing the words would only be the lie she was sculpting for the authorities. Under normal circumstances, this never would have happened. The Piccini's had always been rather powerful, maybe not as well-known as other families, but law enforcement still looked the other way more than they didn't. Yet, under her father's control, their influence had waned. In her grandfather's time, maybe she wouldn't be sitting in the stuffy office of Jacob Ford, but she could hardly remember those days.

"Yes," She frowned, the emotion coloring her voice sounding perfectly rehearsed to her ears. "Alone with our father in... in the woods, another hunter mistook him for a cerva, though he was likely... intoxicated?" She lowered her head and sniffled quietly as if hiding her tears. Truthfully, Bambi was hiding the rage that she knew had flared in her eyes. The man hadn't been some simple hunter, after all. He was one of theirs, yet he had been nothing more than a nameless scapegoat to Celso Piccini in the end.

"So, a drunk killed your brother in the woods," Mr. Ford summarized crudely, holding a tissue box out to the young witch. "How are you... feeling about that?"

"That is... rather blunt," Bambi's frown deepened, suddenly thankful she wasn't attending the sessions out of her own need as she accepted a tissue and blotted at her eyes. "But I suppose that is the short of it, yes. As for how I feel, well... Guilty," She answered, speaking her first truthful sentence since meeting the man.

"Guilty?"

"As much as I miss my brother, the... hunter, he has a family," The witch murmured, shifting where she sat. "A wife, a little girl. I... I looked into him more in an attempt to cope," She explained simply. In truth, Bambi would usually babysit the child when Celso had been too focused on instructing Benedetto to notice his daughter's actions. It had been her twin's 'accidental' death to force the older brunet to acknowledge his other child.

"So, instead of being happy that your brother's murderer is now locked away, you only pity his family?" The man spoke in disbelief, halting his writing that Bambi hadn't even noticed.

"I... Yes, I suppose so," She hummed, blotting once more at her eyes to hide her scowl. Her brother's murderer was not locked away. Not yet. When she didn't offer any more to the conversation, Mr. Ford cleared his throat, deciding to switch subjects.

"Well, moving on from Bene—your brother," He spoke, crossing his legs. "I suppose you're aware that the detectives are rather interested in your... accident, as well."

"What about it?"

"You must understand how it looks, Bambi, from an outside perspective?" He pressed, leaning forward to eye the too-intelligent eyes of the witch. "Maybe things are different in America, but it is usually quite the cause for concern when one child winds up dead from a bullet to the skull, and the other—a witch with an affinity for water, mind you—washes up supposedly drowned less than a month later."

"Forgive me for being rude," Bambi began, her ice-colored gaze hardening, "but surely you understand, Mr. Ford, that an affinity does not negate suicidal ideation. I am grieving; my family is still grieving, trying to cope with almost losing both of their children in the same year," The witch spoke as if she was scolding the older wizard, though she hardly felt the emotion she was portraying. It had been the story her father came up with, painting her as a suicidal twin that had flung herself from a cliff to avoid living without her sibling.

"Ah... Y-Yes, my apologies, Miss Piccini," He cleared his throat, having recognized the hidden implication as she mentioned her family. "I—" Yet, just as he attempted to continue, a timer went off on his desk, and Bambi stood easily.

"I believe that's all the time we have this week, Mr. Ford. If you'll excuse me?" Bambi spoke, posing her words as a question though she was already making her way to the door of his office.

"I—Right, of course. I'll see you the same time next week, Miss Piccini," He acknowledged, acting as if he were dismissing her and not the other way around. The blonde didn't speak, simply nodding as she adjusted her purse and slipped through the door. As soon as she was out of his line of sight, Jacob heaved a sigh, slumping back into his chair. The ordered sessions were almost over, already two months out of three completed, but he could hardly wait to be free of the looming presence the short mage brought when she tried.