The Damned || t. galpin (on hold)

i may have killed a guy

Unfortunately for Cameron, for one hour every Wednesday, she had to have an hour-long session with the local therapist, doctor Kinbott. She didn't have the best experience with mental health institutions, after being locked up in a psych ward for a month over the holidays.

Trudging through the damp streets of Jericho, she found her way to the office. It was close enough to the Weathervane that she could go in there after her session, but not to work- to probably have to unwind after a fruitless session with a self-serving shrink.

The building was a tall white marble, with golden plaques on the front. The lobby was painted a pinkish beige and filled with sleek cream-colored couches. Having no clue what the therapist looked like she sat down on one of the chairs, a single dark stain on the otherwise monochrome room.

A blond woman dressed like a middle-aged mother trying to look fashionable, rushes into the room five minutes later, holding a clipboard, casting glances over the entire room. 

"Cameron? Is there a Cameron May here?" The blond woman searches the room before her eyes land on Cameron, gesturing for her to get up. Cameron reluctantly obliges. "So, Cameron, I've read your file-"

"The file is full of shit-sorry- garbage." She really isn't in the mood for a shrink overanalyzing every single one of her words. Dr. Kinbott's eyes widen, she opens her mouth to say something and then closes it. Nodding curtly

"Let's discuss this in my office." Cameron rolls her eyes, hoping that she can make the therapist give up, or at least end the session early. Through her mean demeanor and shell, she hoped to distract the doctor from what was really going on inside her, most of her energy was wrapped up in a self-hating ball of teenage angst and slowly destroying her from the inside. But Cameron will never admit this, even to herself.

Sitting down in the room that could only be described as violently pink, a strange anxiety settles over Cameron, a cloud in her already thundering sky.

Leaning forward, Kinbott puts on her sweetest voice, Cameron uses this as an opportunity to peek into the woman's mind. She was like every other therapist, except for she dealt almost exclusively with outcasts, whom she saw as 'broken' and was taking it upon herself to 'fix' them. Cameron almost threw up in her mouth.

"As I was saying. Your file tells me much about your history- including your stay at the psychiatric facility." She pretends to look into the file- Cameron knows she's already memorized the necessary information.

"And let me guess, you want me to describe my experience there- and how it affects my views of therapy." Cameron brushes her loose hair back- staring at Kinbott.

The woman is taken aback by this, she knits her eyebrows together, "Well, yes, actually."

"Most of the therapists there thought I was a sociopath and a murderer. I don't think their approach reflected anything less." Kinbott looks at her sadly, 

"I would like to know-" But Cameron already knows what she's going to say, what she's going to ask, without having to look inside her mind. 

"How I'm finding school if I've made any friends," Cameron smiles at the woman sweetly, "We haven't started any lessons yet. The uniform is the ugliest thing I've ever seen in my life and I have made a 'friend'. Her name is Enid- she's awesome." Kinbott, sits there, analyzing her.

"You say you're telekinetic." Is all she says.

"Yes, I can prove it-" She raises her hands. Kinbott waves her hands, stopping her.

She smiles sweetly, "That won't be necessary- all I need to know is how you finish my-"

"Sentences?"

"Yeah." Kinbott is exasperated, but she isn't giving up. It's like she's used to outcast kids giving her trouble.