The Hirt

Chapter One

1

Heather Marks walked into the bleak room, sat down on the uncomfortable couch, fixed her eyes on the floor beneath her, and said, “I’m going insane.”

            “Oh, well . . . um, why do you think you’re insane?” the psychologist said, obviously startled at the bluntness of Heather’s comment.

            “No. Two things: one, I’m not insane yet, I’m just going insane. There’s a difference. Two, I don’t think I’m going insane. I am going insane,” Heather responded.  Only then did Heather look up and meet his blue eyes.  The psychologist blinked and cleared his throat. 

            “Okay, why are you going insane?” he said carefully, and pushed his circular glasses up on his nose.  Heather gave the faintest smile, but it quickly disappeared.  She then said, “Well, I’ve been having hallucinations.  Like, I see things that no one else sees.  No. I imagine things . . .  I guess . . .  But they just seem so real.”

            “What kind of things?” The psychologist muttered as he scribbled something down in his notepad, his glasses sliding back down.

            “Well, like I see . . . er . . . imagine things in the road when we’re driving somewhere.  Or at school.  I guess I won’t even really see them.  I just see a flash of something, but I know exactly what it is even if it flashes too fast to identify.  I just . . . know.  Then it disappears, and no one else sees it,” Heather described, her eyes never leaving the top of the psychologist’s head.  “I also hear things.  Voices, I mean.  But they never talk in full conversations.  It’s always just, like, snippets of conversations.  Or even sentences.  Almost like I’m walking past someone talking and I just hear a few words of their conversation. They aren’t even speaking directly to me, like there is someone else there, too. For some reason, I hear these voices the most in my Chemistry class. I think I’m crazy. Dr. Thompson, you have to help me,” Heather pleaded, reading the name tag on the psychologist’s shirt.  Dr. Thompson looked up from his notepad for the first time since Heather started talking.  He was an older man, maybe in his sixties, with bright blue eyes framed with circular glasses.  His hair had flecks of gray, but was mostly dark brown.  His dark green sweater vest fit him perfectly, but his charcoal gray trousers were a bit short, showing black socks under black loafers.  He had the slightest hint of wrinkles on his pleasant face. “Everyone thinks I’m crazy.” Heather finished in a whisper.

            “Well, from a professional standpoint, I don’t think you’re insane,” Dr. Thompson replied with a slight smile on his face.  “It’s very possible that you are suffering from lack of sleep, or maybe from stress.  Have you taken any medication lately?  Sometimes, side effects of certain prescriptions can cause hallucinations.”

            “No! You’re not listening to me!” Heather suddenly jumped up and shouted at Dr. Thompson.  “I know I’m insane! Those aren’t the only things!  I didn’t come here for you to tell me that I’m not insane! I want you to tell me why.  Or how I can stop it!”

            “Heather, Heather, calm down! Please, there’s no need to shout,” Dr. Thompson replied, obviously ruffled and stunned by this sudden outbreak.  “You said there were other things. What are the other things?”  Heather just stared at the psychologist, her face paling and her eyes widening.  “Heather? Are you alright?” 

            “No.  Not you, too!” Heather whispered, mainly to herself, never taking her eyes off of Dr. Thompson.

            “Heather what’s going on?” Dr. Thompson asked, genuinely worried, and leaned toward her.