Prince of the Moon

Chapter 1: Brazen Devils

"So, Crystallo Josephine Realiza, correct?" the therapist asked Crystal, glancing down at his clipboard. Crystal thought that his name was Dr. Peter Dalsia--a tall, olive-skinned man with brown hair and blue eyes who was evidently a player.

"Call me Your True Leader," Crystal said, not looking up from her nails that she was pretending to study in distaste. She didn't like this man, especially since he was forty, married, and having an affair with a twenty-seven-year-old woman.

"I believe that you already told the nurses to call you Crystal, so that's what I'm going to call you," the therapist said. This American-Christian asshole.

"Now, that's just disrespectful," Crystal blandly answered. "You should call me what I told you to call me, not what I told other people to call me."

"So, Crystal, do you know why you're here?" the therapist asked her, ignoring the sass that bombarded out of Crystal's mouth. His face sported a frown starring furrowed eyebrows. Crystal wondered how he managed to get a twenty-seven-year-old woman to sleep with him, with a face like that.

"If I didn't know why I was here, I would have asked already," Crystal replied bluntly, looking up from her nails. She leaned back and kicked her feet up onto the arm of the couch, placing her hands behind her head.

"I would like you to explain your side in detail, Crystal." Dalsia rubbed his prosthetic leg absentmindedly, a habit that, so Crystal observed, that he did when nervous or annoyed.

"Do you want me to explain in technical terms or to dumb it down to your level?" Crystal shot back.

"Whichever you prefer, Crystal," the therapist answered, his blue eyes flashing with annoyance.

Crystal mocked him under her breath. "Basically, man tries to have the sex with me. I don't like the sex. I stab him. He dies. Oops. The end. Did you understand that or do I have to dumb it down further?"

The therapist ignored her. "I have a few other questions for you, Crystal, and you'll be let go." He scribbled something down on his clipboard.

"I have a question for you. Do you always use the name that I asked you not to call me inside of all of your sentences? Like, when you're having sex or something and you cry out Ciara's name, instead of that, do you cry out 'Crystal!'?" she asked him, imitating a gasp.

"That is not an appropriate question to ask here, Crystal."

"The question that you asked about my life wasn't appropriate either. I'm a traumatized woman! I was almost raped!" Crystal pretended to almost cry. "Please, officer, let me go."

"Crystal, the more you cooperate the faster you'll get out of here," Dalsia said. Crystal could tell that he was saying it more for himself than for her. "So please answer them seriously and quickly."

"If you ask the questions, it'll go faster too," Crystal pointed out.

He sighed. "Where did you get that eye-patch, Crystal?" He pointed in the general direction of her face, where an eye-patch was covering her left eye. There were some strings attached to the square thing that looped around both of her ears.

"From the hospital. It is a medical eyepatch, after all. It might even be the same place where you got that leg," Crystal suggested. She was really enjoying this. She hadn't sassed an annoying man in a very long time.

"Thank you for the information, Crystal, but I was wondering how you got it," the therapist said.

"The nurse gave it to me. She said that I needed it, since I don't have a goddamn eye," Crystal snapped. She didn't like to discuss how she lost it, and she especially didn't want to tell the story to this asshole.