Lucifer's Feelings Are Out Of Control

1: The Girl, A Gun, and Lots Of Therapy

(So, this is my Lucifer fanfiction. Congrats on finding it, glad you could make it. So, yeah. I'ma let you read these first 2 chapters and see what things I'm doing with this. It's hard to explain without ruining anything. So have fun, be sure to comment, I love reading those, and enjoy! Until later...) 

"A gun. Was loud." The girl's small voice was lifeless and dull, merely spitting out a random statement. The psychologist sighs.

"That's not what I asked you, Brittney." Brittney looks over at the doctor blankly. She shrugs and looks at the table, brushing a piece of greasy blonde brown hair out of her face.

"Screaming. Can't remember who screamed."

"Brittney, please try to answer the question."

"Scares me."

"Nothing can get to you now I promise." Brittney slowly blinks and shakes her head. Tears suddenly dot the edges of her soft blue eyes, but she did not look upset.

"No safety from nightmares, Doctor." The psychologist sighs and rubs her hands over her face. 

"Brittney, do you want to get better?" Brittney nods and a tear falls.

"Then please answer the question. What do you see when you close your eyes at night?" Brittney shakes her head and more tears fall.

"No." She whispers.

"Brittney please."

"Darkness. Pain. And fear."

"You feel those. The pain and fear?"

"Yes. But pain felt before."

"Pain you've felt before?"

"Always dark. And scary. Makes me scared. Then anxious."

"This is all you see or feel in your dreams?"

"Not dreams. Dreams have happy. Nightmares don't."

"Brittney, when was the last time you dreamt something happy?" Brittney pauses, thinking.

"Two days. Before gunshots. And screams." Brittney wipes away her tears almost robotically, eyes darting back and forth with a fuzzy memory. The door to the room opens and another doctor walks in. He leans over and whispers something to the psychologist.

"Brittney, why don't we continue this tomorrow? You need to rest." Brittney doesn't move or reply, so the doctors leave the room.

"There's no change. Her voice is starting to scare me. She's not even 15 yet and she sounds like a wounded soldier come back from the bloodiest war. If we can't figure out how to help her..." The psychologist's voice tightens. "Brittney is weak, emotionally. Tests show that she's had anxiety before this. Double that with PTSD and maybe even some depression and she's broken. She rarely forms actual, fluid, smooth, complete sentences. She is emotionally wasted and is giving up. How is she physically?"

"Well, not any better as well. She refuses to eat most of her food, the majority of the time skipping out on breakfast. Brittney is quickly losing sleep, mostly from nightmares and then fear and anxiety keeping her hyped up. If she doesn't eat more and get better sleep, she won't make it." The other doctor states. The psychologist sighs and shakes her head.

"There has to be a way for her to get better. I'm not giving up on her." And with that, the woman walks away and leaves the doctor in a sad shock.

"All right Brittney, let's go back to your room." Brittney doesn't move, and the man sighs.

"Brittney please. Come on." No response.

"Bang is sound for guns. Real guns don't make bangs. Make booms. Loud booms. That hurt my ears." He sighs and walks over to her.

"Come on, Brittney. Time to go back to your room and eat."

"But know something."

"What do you know?"

"Remember. Gun man shot sister first. She said don't close eyes. Didn't close eyes. Watched her die. Mommy screamed. Gun goes boom. Mommy didn't get back up. Then brother screamed. Gun went boom. Daddy pushed brother. Daddy got hit with bullet. Daddy fell and brother followed after boom." The doctor watches Brittney carefully, slightly confused.

"Angelica said don't close eyes. Never closed eyes. Not when gun went boom. Not when gun man locked me somewhere. Not when pain was bad. Never." Brittney mumbles, her throat tightening.

"So you saw everything that happened because your sister, Angelica, told you not to close your eyes?"

"Saw everything. Forget nothing. Not really. Nightmares bring back screams. And pain. Fear and shock. Sadness is in waves. Fear always there. Fear never leaves."

"Brittney, you need rest, food, and soon it'll be time for medicine, so let's head back to your room please." Brittney quietly gets up from her seat and follows the doctor back to her room. She eats a few bites before shoving it away. She gets up and walks over to her dresser, to the drawer of stress relief things, like play-dough and stress relief balls. Brittney looks around the room, slightly bored.

"Medicine time, Brittney. Oh honey, you need to eat." A nurse walks in and sighs. Brittney turns to face her.

"Stomach hurts."

"That's because you're so hungry it hurts." The nurse replies worriedly. Brittney shakes her head.

"No, cut on stomach hurts." Brittney absentmindedly scratches at the tight bandages wrapping around her thin torso. The nurse sighs and nods.

"Yes dear, that's what the medicine is for." Brittney walks over and looks down at her food. She left the pork chop untouched and barely picked at the mashed potatoes.

"Here, for the pain." The nurse hands Brittney two small pills and a cup of water.

"But the others." Brittney mumbles and the nurse sighs.

"There's been a slight change. Instead of (not as strong mental illness medicine), we're trying (stronger one)." Brittney nods and swallows down the pills handed to her and drains the cup of water. (I don't know my medicine, sue me)

"Will stop nightmares?"

"That's what we're hoping, sweetie. Get some sleep now." Brittney nods and glances at her bed.

"Bed mean sleep. Sleep mean nightmare." Brittney whispers before the nurse leaves. She pauses slightly, but then an idea hits her.

"Stay put. I'm going to get Dr. Roland."

"Psychologist." Brittney whispers. A few minutes later, the nurse and the psychologist from earlier walk into the room.

"Brittney, do you think that if you go to sleep on a bed, it will give you nightmares?" Brittney nods fearfully.

"Would a couch maybe give you nightmares?"

"Never had nightmare on couch. Only bed."

"Do you want to try that? See if that helps?" Brittney nods, unknowingly falling into the doctor's plan. If she believes she will get a nightmare, she most likely will. If she doesn't think she will, she might not. It's all in the mind. The doctor had told the nurse exactly what she believed was happening.

"Now go to sleep, please."

"No nightmare. Couch means no nightmare." Brittney says as the doctor and nurse leave the room after putting in the couch. Dr. Roland pauses.

"Repeat that please."

"No nightmare. Couch means no nightmare." Brittney says, voice slightly stronger with hope. Roland smiles and walks out of the room.

"Doctor Roland, there are some people here to see you."

(So, the next chapter is directly picking up from this one. I had an idea and then a better idea and I'm SUPER excited about this story! *jumps* Yay! Hope you enjoyed! Until later...)