Tied By The Beast (girlxintersex)

Chapter

Chapter 18

Inaya POV

The prospect of meeting up in nothing but disappointment made me nauseous, and I had to struggle to keep my barf at back. After Divya and I ate and spoke for a while, she went home, leaving me to my own thoughts...it wasn't until she walked out the door that I realized how calm I was. And having her over again might not be so horrible.

"THE SERENITY SPRINGS COUNSELING" was essentially a counseling center, but with a twist: you can do it in comfort and luxury. However, the only thing that comes to mind is a group of insane people—or individuals who are about to become insane—who don't want to appear that way.

Did that imply Karib was probably insane? At this time, she may be. She may be a madwoman attempting to control some demons, and I wouldn't criticize her. If she were a beast, I'd be her beauty. But she hides secrets, and that's what annoyed me.

The counseling facility didn't have much to give via the internet, other than asking you to come in and schedule a 'session' with them. I can only conclude that they are nothing more than a money-grabbing establishment that preys on your self-diagnosis of being insane or in need of assistance.

That's exactly what I saw in front of me, exactly like the website's photo depicted. Two guards stand at the gate with a warm nice smile, but as you glance down, you notice the cruel glare of the pistol. Walking in, the air smells like costly air freshener, masking the aroma of them stealing your money. Clean tiles. A friendly-looking receptionist. Fresh plants to create ambiance. Everything appears wonderful except for a client who stumbled by me. She appeared to be experiencing the harshness of reality, as the bags beneath her eyes were heavy.

I wanted to try if I could get past the receptionist and go right to Doctor Mazed.

But I wouldn't even try it. Not with the manner, our eyes immediately locked.

"Hi." She greeted me from her corner, her lips opened in such a lovely grin that I almost vomited. Since recently, I've wanted to puke at everything.

"Hey, is Doctor Mazed in?" I laid my hands on the high desk that she was standing around. I noted there was a chair, but it would serve little purpose given how high the counter was.

"Okay, tell me your name, and I'll see the appointment—"

"I did not schedule an appointment." I didn't failed to see the thousand dollar appointment I had to book, just to see any doctor of my choice.

They did not even have a "get your money back" guarantee. I knew I had a lot of money now, so I was known as 'the wealthy,' but there was no way I was spending $1,000 to suck in air freshener and chat to a therapist.

"Sorry, you need to book in on the web—"

"I simply need to ask her a few questions."

"Sorry, but you need to book in on—"

"Yo, just a few questions. I do not need to attend a therapy session or whatever you call it."

"I apologize, ma'am, but it is just protocol. You can schedule a session with us and ask any questions you desire."

"It's only questions. When does anyone pay to ask—?"

"Ma'am, I will get the guard—"

"There is no need for that." A fragile voice spoke from behind me. I turn around and see a tall, average-sized old woman dressed in a high-neck shirt decorated with purple beads that contrasted against the ebony black cloth. She wore lovely slacks with bell-shaped that partially concealed her black shoes.

"Are you sure, ma'am?" The young receptionist inquired.

"Yeah," she said, moving closer. "Hello, my name is Doctor Mazed." She extended her fragile hand for a shake.

My eyes quadrupled in size, as it was the therapist Karib was with.

She seemed as if her eyes were going to shut. "You are just the person I need to see." I muttered, clutching her smooth palm, and she put her next hand over mine, essentially sandwiching my hands between hers.

"Really?" Her eyebrows furrowed. "I don't recall you as one of my clients, but my brain appears to not be working, so you may be—"

"I'm not." She gently pulls her hands away. Her face took on a perplexed expression. "Then why are you here? Definitely not for me. I believed you were one of the clients I wrote to."

"Well, you did."

"I did. But you just said you're not a client."

"I am not. Can we please speak privately?" I whispered as I looked through my bag for the note she had written.

"Sure. I typically don't do unpaid talks, but what the heck. I can spare a minute or two with you." She motioned me to follow her.

I followed her down a very tiny hallway. I would have expected the facility to be spotless for a business that accepts money from customers. Instead, I felt as if the walls were collapsing.

She unlocked a black door and led me inside. The office was not too awful. Perhaps the money was better spent on two security guards instead. I take my seat on the grass green sofa. It felt comfortable; it had to be.

People must feel free to express their eccentricities. Gosh! I was making fun of these folks, but Karib might have been one of them.

I began searching in my bag, and this time I could see the documents. My bags were empty yesterday morning, except for my phone, money, and identity, and today they were full with documents.

"Here." I murmured and handed her the paper. "You remember her, right?" I also take out my phone and pull up a photo of Karib. "You remember this face, right?" My fingers are crossed that she does. It appears she was growing too old for this work.

"Yeah, but I can't say anything about her. But the fact that she was a lovely client." She may have intended to say, "A client who paid a lot of money, without blinking an eyebrow."

"She is my wife." I said, displaying the ring to convince her. But that didn't convince her, as she shrugged her shoulders and gave a sheepish face.

"Whatever you want to know, you must find out if she tells you."

"Come on, Dr. Mazed. Something's wrong with her." There! I've finally admitted it. Something wasn't right about her. She was unstable.

She groaned and walked around to her well maintained desk. "I can't discuss other clients here..." I watched as she clicked something on her computer. "But I can go out of my office for a minute while you check what you need to check."

My eyes expand.

"Why?"

"All I can say is she may be harmful. The last time I spoke with her, she stated she was OK. I've contacted her via mail, hoping to find someone who can take over from here." She meant a person who didn't have a money-grubbing attitude. "She hasn't taken her treatments for months."

She murmured as she went out, closing the door behind her. I rushed to the computer screen. I could feel anxiousness flowing through my nerves. When I looked at the screen, I saw it was a file of hers. I grunted; I couldn't read so much in one minute. I promptly pressed the camera button on my phone and began taking shots of the screen.

I hurriedly returned to the sofa as the door screamed and she entered.

"Um...are there any regulations about not being able to come to my house?" I inquired, reaching for my pen and notebook.

"No."

"I want to go into greater detail. If you have time, of course." As I jotted down my address and phone number, I whispered. Something tells me that the few photographs I took would not provide me with all of the answers I needed. I handed her the piece of ripped paper.

"Thank you."