The Badboy and the Sociopath

Chapter 14 - A Walk? More Like A Jog On Broken Glass Down Memory Lane

So here it is kids, the story of how it all went sideways. The events that shaped the amazing London you all know and love today, you're welcome by the way. 

I'm kidding, of course, I've always been this awesome and the human garbage mentioned in the following have nothing to do with it. 

Let me start by saying, I regret nothing and if I could, I'd do it over, but with more....' finesse' if you will. Probably have someone else do all the dirty wor- scratch that, I'd regret letting someone else get all those punches in.

Anyway, let's take that stroll, shall we?

*Flashback to Freshman year*

"Sociopath" the word rolled off my tongue with disgust. I scowled at my new therapist. Why this stout, bald-headed, Vizzini look-alike with beady eyes asked me something he already knew was beyond me. 

He took in my reaction and started scribbling on his little white and blue notepad. He shifted in his chair and crossed his right leg over his left. "And how does that word make you feel?" He asked, looking intently at me like he expected some profound answer. 

I knew this game all too well; pretend that they cared about what I had to say so I'd open up and tell them about my 'problems', when in actuality they already had their preconceived notions about me and who they thought I was, or should be based on past therapists and their analysis of me. Now to a 14-year-old who had spent the last two or so years coming to terms with her new-found status, telling another head doctor that I'm depressed and that, them calling me crazy makes it worse, just doesn't cut it anymore. So instead of trying I just decided to get rid of them before they could pretend they can 'fix' me.

"How do you feel Doc? Cause I feel the same. Could go for a burger though, haven't eaten since lunch; because I had to sit in some stuffy, vomit coloured room with Vizzini and his reflective scalp causing the sun to burn a hole in my cheek, and it's almost five. Now some might call this child abuse" I said in a bored tone, flicking the dirt from under my nails as I stared blankly at his calculating eyes.

He sighed heavily, "I was told you were well versed in the art of deflection and subtle threats. However, given that and the extensive reports your four previous Therapists have written, I still think I can help you" he said, emphasizing the number of therapists I had gone through maybe in hopes of making me feel some morsel of guilt. He sighed again and leaned forward, pressing his elbows against his knees and laid his head in his palms. "I can only do that if you let me," he said giving me a thoughtful look, his brown eyes softened as they assessed my body language. 

My arms were crossed, defensively over my chest and my legs were bouncing impatiently. I narrowed my eyes, looking him over. The sympathy angle? Does this moron even understand sociopath traits? 

"Can I use the bathroom really quickly?" I asked, tired of this conversation.

He leaned back in his chair with a smile, "Go ahead, down the hall, first door on your left" he said. 

I walked out the door and started walking down the hall, but when I came to the left for the bathroom, I took a right, down the stairs and to the parking lot. Now the goal here was to find his car and borrow it for a few hours and guarantee my removal from Vizzini's client list, maybe even upgrade me to the restraining order list. Being the genius London I am, the plan was coming together perfectly, but, being the impulsive London I am I didn't account for him calling the cops, subsequently turning into a police chase, or me being arrested for the second time. The main goal was achieved, so the rest of the facts were trivial at best.

My behaviour at school wasn't much different from the one at the therapist's office; didn't care much for classes, teachers, students and with Gale spearheading the London Hate squad, I was given even less reason to. While at school I'd ditch class to hang out with my brother and Max but when they signed up for the football team, James and Max turned into them and the entire team and since it's not called a social disorder, I kept my distance from them and their posse at school.