Bellman Tower

Chapter 7

I put my pencil down and look at my sketch.

It's the attic.

I quickly flip the page, looking at Aunt out of the corner of my eye. She can't see that, ever. There's a knock on the door and I sigh.

She is here.

My psychiatrist, Linda.

She walks in and smiles at me, showing off her set of pearly white teeth. She pushes her strawberry locks of hair back and purses her lips at me. "Come on, Nikki. I thought we were going to try to make things better."

I sigh and look up towards the ceiling Linda sits down beside me, "Dreams?"

"No difference."

"Replay?"

"None... so far." I reply. This is our routine. Linda makes some notes and then looks at me head-on.

"So? Do you want to tell me something? Anything?"

"I haven't got anything to say." I reply, "Apart from one thing. Will you take me back to Santa Monica - back to my home - with you?"

Linda looks at Aunt, who sighs audibly.

Linda puts her hand on my shoulder, "This is your home now, Nikki. The sooner you accept that, the better it is for everyone."

"This is not home. There are no memories here, I feel like I'm some sort of permanent guest. I... I don't belong here Linda." I say and then get up, "I'd hoped that you'd help me. But I can see now that you don't have any intention of doing that at all. You just want your damn money."

"My whole job is about helping you, Nikki. But I can't do that unless you're willing to help yourself first. Nikki, I know what you're going through is hard, but you can't keep going on like this."

"Going on like what?" I snap, "No matter what anyone says, I know what I saw. I felt it. You need evidence? Look at my leg. It's evidence enough, Linda!"

"Nikki..." Linda sighs, "I haven't come here to argue with you. It's my job as your psychiatrist to listen to your troubles. But this is a little too far-fetched, don't you think?"

I make a disgusted sound, "Linda, I trusted you. I believed in you. I stuck all of my hopes on you, Linda. That was obviously for no good reason. If you don't want to believe me, fine. Just go back to Santa Monica and delete my file and bin your notes and everything."

"Nikki, please. Can we talk about something else that doesn't get you so over worked up?" Linda pats the sofa.

"No! No, Linda, you don't understand! I just have to get out of here. Why are you treating me like I'm going crazy?"

"Because you're acting crazy, Nikki! Don't you realise what you're saying?"

"Yes, I do because it happened to me. Why did I even trust you? You're obviously going to join hands with my so-called family and tell me I'm just an idiot who would hurt myself." I burst, clenching my fists.

"You're not an idiot, Nikki." Linda shakes her head.

"Yeah, you're probably correct. I'm just deluded, right? The kid whose parents got killed in a crash, not so unscathed after all."

"Nikki, why are you saying that? You know it's not true." Linda looks tired.

"It is true!" I insist, "How can you not believe me? Do you want to see my leg? Do you need proof?"

"Nikki, please can we continue with the session?"

"No, we cannot because I don't need a psychiatrist. Not if the person can't trust me to say what the truth is and what is made up. I thought that you, out of all the people in this God-forsaken world, understood me!"