𝐃𝐞𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐞𝐝 𝐨𝐫 𝐃𝐞𝐥𝐮𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐚𝐥? 〚𝚍𝚛𝚊𝚌𝚘 𝚖𝚊𝚕𝚏𝚘𝚢 〛

Chapter 1

"Miss Collins?"

Lost in thoughts, I blinked, startled out of my memories.

The psychologist sighed. "Miss Collins, your parents are concerned. They believe in the fact that you are suffering from a mental illness which managed to convince you of the existence of magic."

I focused my attention on the woman and managed not to show how annoyed I was. After three weeks of therapy, I found I was doing a pretty good job at it. 

This would never have happened if my parents had not searched my room and found a notebook filled with theories and years of research. Using the excuse of being worried for my safety, they had even went as far as planting a mic in my room, hearing me as I mumbled "nonsense" about witches and magic. 

Six years had passed since that morning at the park. By staying silent, I had convinced my parents that I had gotten over it, and it had worked. Until I had the impudence of leaving my research on my desk.

"But, Miss Collins, you do not seem to be suffering from anything at all!"

I tilted my head to the side, unfazed by what the psychologist had said. 

My eyes weren't particularly special. They weren't a cold colour that caused others to be weary or a dark, threatening colour. They were light brown, which, at first sight, was normal. But I was once told that they contained some sort of twinkling curiosity that could, depending on the situation, make people wonder exactly what I was thinking about.

"You sound surprised," I say softly.

The woman leaned back against her chair while I straightened my posture.

"Not really, no."

Then, she fell silent, as if waiting for my confession. I sighed, trying to look resigned.

"Very well," I started slowly. "Magic is a codename I have invented for an artefact of the victorian era that has supposedly disappeared in 1901, just before the end of this period. My class has been establishing theories about its travels and exactly where it could be."

The woman frowned and I allowed myself a small smile. These lines were perfectly believable. It was always necessary to have a plan B.

"You see," I explain, reaching for my notebook, which was on top of a large pile of papers and gently tucking it inside my jacket. "This project was prompted by one of our teachers, who wanted us to experience what true historians would do. And students have a tendency of being competitive, so we disguise our work."

The psychologist nodded slowly, grasping the context. She also had a son who studied at my school, he would be able to confirm my statements.

"Then why not explain this to your parents?" she asked.

A grimace stretched my lips.

"It was stupid of me to use the word magic. My parents disapprove of the side classes I take to become a historian."

The woman nodded again, understanding. After asking around, I had discovered that her parents had not approved of her choice to pursue a career in psychology. I knew she wouldn't tell my parents.

"My parents are too protective, they think I am not mentally stable. I have a hard time working on my project when they are around," I complain, trying to steer the conversation in a very specific direction.

The psychologist looked down at her desk in thought, noticing a pamphlet I had placed in her mailbox early this morning. On the cover, in bold letters, it was written: Traveling, a new way to heal the mind. The woman stared at it and I held my breath, silently praying.

"Do you have enough money for a train ticket?" she asked.

I must exert every bit of self control to stop myself from crying out in victory.

"I work at the restaurant," I respond, sounding confused.

"And where would your research take you?"

"London," I say perhaps a bit too quickly.

The woman doesn't notice and smiles.

"Pack your bags, Miss Collins, you are going to London."

My eyes widen. She identifies it as surprise instead of excitement.

"How? Why?" The words tumble out of my mouth.

"I will inform your parents that we have found a way to heal you. By traveling to the place where you believe magic exists and realising that there is nothing there, you will be able to get over your beliefs. I have an apartment in London and have to go there for an information session, you will accompany me."

I smiled brightly, and for once, I didn't need to fake it.