Project X [18+] [Fanfiction]

Chapter I: Partners

Emma's couch had seen better days. While I sat there waiting for her to show up at our session, I toyed with a piece of duct tape that was stretched over one of many slash marks. Her couch was doomed from the beginning, really, you could not expect to have therapy sessions with people like me and the old man without knowing some property damage was coming your way.

As I sat there picking at the tape and looking across the beaten up old thing, I could not help but wonder how many more sessions it could possibly last. A single claw at the right point could reduce it to rubble, by the looks of it. Just like anything else.

I knew Emma was coming when the couch did not look like it was in quite as bad of shape. Before my eyes the tattered and taped thing disappeared, being instantly replaced with the smooth leather of a fancy couch. Where my fingers were playing with the frayed duct tape I was now rolling my touch over the flawless leather, and I couldn't help but smirk to myself. She could play with sight and touch to cover up the ugliest thing in her office, but it was hard to hide everything. The door from outside started to open up and I lifted my head; a few strands of black hair falling before my eyes while I greeted her.

"I can smell the glue, you know." I remarked with a smirk, and my nose twitched on instinct from the distant scent of it. Emma just stood in the doorway, a hand on her hip as she regarded me with an arched brow. "From the tape. You might as well just let me see the couch how it is."

Emma did not respond immediately, and instead she just closed the door behind her and stepped towards her desk. The headmistress was a patient woman, I had learned that much during my time at the mansion. She'd pretty much have to be, looking how she did at a school filled with teenage boys. Busty and blonde and wearing the sorts of uniforms she wore? It was a miracle she was not always shouting at people. She was dressed a bit better for our session, a simple tan business suit for the day's work. She took her time in walking back to the desk, and did not speak to me until she slinked back into her fancy chair.

When the sessions had begun, I was much more impatient, and when she pulled the silent treatment I'd snap at her or claw at the couch, anything to fill the awkward silence while I was psychoanalyzed. But now? I had been through enough to know that it was all a part of the game, and it was Emma's way of confirming that she was still the one in charge of things.

"So you prefer the couch the old way." She finally mused, her tone suggesting that she was reading more into my words than I intended. She did that a lot. "You'd rather see it ratty and abused, instead of sleek and new." I just smirked a little, a brow arching to the headmistress.

"You got me," I threw up my hands in surrender. "It must be because deep down I miss doing all the things I used to do. All the killing, the turning tricks, I must really miss it." Emma's gaze turned cold, her eyes falling on me in an unsettlingly hard and motherly fashion.

"Don't joke about that, Laura." Her voice was as stern as it was concerned, and she took a slow breath before speaking again. "Let's move on. I've decided that you're at a point where we should think about advanced lessons for you. You've been doing well, but I'm afraid there's one area that you've been neglecting here at the mansion."

Already I felt on edge. If I avoided something, it was because I did not want to deal with it. If there was something I was neglecting, there was a damned good reason for it. My senses were already on edge, and my defensive instincts kicked in. The scent of Emma's perfume from across the room was not just an overbearing fragrance anymore; it was a scent I could identify and use to avoid her, just in case whatever she proposed had me running from the mansion at top speed.

"...what did you have in mind?" I asked, a little worried about the response. At the time, I figured the most damaging thing she could bring up would be getting deeper into my past, or revisiting childhood memories. It was one thing to talk about them, but another thing altogether to visit them with a telepath, and I wasn't exactly looking forward to watching a movie of my darkest moments. My muscles were tense, and I was already forming a plan of escape. Flip her desk, dart out the window, run and hide until it all blows over and Emma finds another project to fix. As it turned out, I did not have to run out the window at her response, but with what she actually said I was so stunned I doubt I would've been able to anyway.