𝐉𝐮𝐯𝐞𝐧𝐢𝐥𝐞 𝐃𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐧𝐭 | 𝐑𝐨𝐛𝐛𝐲 𝐊𝐞𝐞𝐧𝐞 (DISCONTINUED)

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 13

Alora was taken to the police station and placed in a holding room. She sat on the bench, her body leaning against the concrete wall behind her. She was waiting for her intake officer to show up and yap some nonsense in her ear but they were taking forever. She hit her head repeatedly on the wall in boredom. An officer walked out and opened the room to let her out. He led her to a different room that scarily resembled one of those interrogation rooms that you see in movies. She sat down and she was cuffed to the table which she thought was a little overcautious, all things considered. She stole a bracelet, she didn't rob a store with the owner at gunpoint.

"Hi. I'm Dr. Johnson, you can call me Greta. I'm gonna try to help you but that means that you have to cooperate with me. Can you do that?" Greta asked. Alora glanced up at her, she wasn't who she was expecting.

"Probably," Alora answered with a slight shrug. Greta nodded and opened the file in front of her.

"So, you stole a bracelet that costs over $600. Correct?"

"Yep," Alora replied, monotonously.

"Why?" Alora was thrown off guard by the question. No one has ever asked her simply why she did what she did. Even on her first charge, sure they asked, but they already had their story in their minds so it didn't matter what she said. It never did.

She squinted her eyes slightly. "What do you mean why?"

"I mean, why did you steal that bracelet?" Greta asked again, leaning closer.

Alora paused for a moment, weighing her options. "Because I wanted to."

"Is that it?" Greta inquired.

Alora bit the inside of her cheek. "Does it matter?"

"Of course, it matters. Alora, I have a degree in psychology and I think that you have a real problem here but I need you to admit that you have a problem so that I'm able to help you," Greta said.

"You've come here to diagnose me? Tell me that I'm fucked up in the head? I know that already. I don't need you or a paper to tell me that," Alora snapped.

"Alora, if I can get you diagnosed. Then, you can leave here free of charge." That caught her attention. Alora stopped and leaned back in her chair.

"Free of charge?" Greta nodded. "Ok, then. Tell me doc, how bad is it?"

"I think you have Kleptomania," Greta explained.

"You think I have what?" Alora squinted.

"Kleptomania is an impulse control disorder that results in an irresistible urge to steal," Greta said. "It's rare but rare diagnoses are still diagnoses."

"Ok then, how do I fix it?" Alora questioned.

"You can't. There is no cure for this condition yet. However, there is treatment that can help such as therapy and medications."

"How do you know that I have that and that I didn't just steal because I'm a thief? You've known me for all of five minutes," Alora crossed her arms.

"Do you get weird impulses to steal things usually of little value? I bet you are a very compulsive person and after stealing, you feel proud and it feels nice and until you realize what you did then you feel guilty about it," Greta said, her eyes never leaving Alora's. "I bet afterward your anxiety and depression go off the charts."

"I don't like the way you just analyzed my life," Alora said, interrupting her spiel. "But...you're...not wrong. I have issues. There I said it, can I leave?"

"Not yet. You have to meet with me weekly for court-mandated therapy sessions and you will be given medication to help with the impulses," Greta told her.