Disclaimer: I do not own Faith or any of the other Buffy and Angel characters mentioned in my story. Joss does.
The Slightest Things
"Sometimes the slightest things change the direction of our lives, the merest breathe of a circumstance, a random movement that connects, like a meteorite striking the earth. Lives have swiveled and changed direction on the strength of a chance remark" The Power of One
Chapter 1
After the first few weeks, they told me I would have to see a Psychiatrist once a week for an hour as part of my Murder rehab. another hour to add my schedule of events. Do they really think they can get a bunch of murders and drug dealers to talk about their feelings with group therapy and shrinks I don't think were much of sharing bunch, we would probably not be here if we were.
So they came in to the rec room at 10:00 on the dot. They placed the handcuffs around my wrists and led me out. I need four guards to watch me, cause they know I'm stronger then I look. They really think that I can't take them all out in seconds them acting all macho. I could easily break all their necks before they had a chance to blink. We walked to a door at the end of hallway I've never been down before. They swiped their key cards and entered the password. The light clicked green and we went in. They led me down a long narrow hallway to door at the end. They knocked and waited.
The door opened and a tall, thin woman with honey-blonde hair, that came to a messy bun at the back of her head stood there. She had these small glasses with brown rims that covered the bluest eye I'd had ever seen. Her skin was deeply tanned and she very fit, she was an attractive woman, What is she doing working at a prison.
She nodded to the guards, who took of my handcuffs, which surprised me. They were going to let me in this room with my hands free. This woman must be crazy, I knew the guards would be standing at the door, but they would never get their quick enough if I did something.
"I'm Dr. Greenway," said the women in pleasantly.
She opened the door wider and motioned for me to walk in. The room was fairly smaller then I expect it to be. It looked nothing like the visitors room. The walls were painted this sky blue color, because I heard blue is supposed to make you feel relaxed and calm. The group therapy room is painted the same color. Don't know if it works, some of the prisoners still get angry in them. There were two green couches in the middle of the room, another color for growth and harmony. The couch looked more comfortable then anything I've sat on since being here. She told me to take a seat. It wasn't the most comfortable couch I've ever sat on but it was better then those plastic chairs in the other rooms. The ones that are cemented into the ground, in case anyone ever gets angry enough to pick it up and throw it at someone. The couches are not cemented in, probably cause they think no one could lift it. I could easily pick it up and throw it across the room. But no bad thoughts, I'm supposed to be good now.
As I sit on the couch, she sits across from me. She pulls out a yellow notebook and a pen crosses her legs. She is wearing this black pant suit with a white shirt underneath she has the jacket buttoned up. She looks very young. Suddenly I get nervous and move to the edge of the couch and place my elbows on my knees and my hands under my chin. I look around the room for a while before saying anything.
"So I don't know what I'm suppose to do here," I ask
"Your free to talk about whatever you want" she says
"So am I supposed to tell you my name, you probably have it in that file you have one me;"
"Do you want to tell me your name?"
"Am I also supposed to tell you what I did to get in here?"
"It's up to you"
"Do you always answer questions, with a question?"
She manages to smile on that one, and she pushes her glasses up with her finger and looks at me with her crystal clear blue eyes.
"You can talk to me about whatever you want"
"So I don't have to talk about what I did"
"Not if you don't want too"
"So I can just not talk at all then"
"If you want to just sit here for an hour and stare at the wall, that's fine with me. I'm just here to listen, whenever you're ready to talk."
I look around the room and notice that it's pretty empty. No framed degrees of colleges or awards, No bookcases with all those Psychology books. Definitely not like the offices in the movies I've seen.
"Why is there's nothing hanging on the wall. No degrees of all the colleges you went to, no awards or best-selling books you wrote."
"I don't think what college I went to is important and I never wrote a book. I'm here for you to have someone to talk to."
As she says that I think about telling that I'm a slayer and all about vampires and demons, then maybe they'll think I'm insane and send me to a mental hospital. If the rooms are padded, I'm sure their more comfortable and plus I get the room to myself.
I never really like talking about my feelings. I never really did that with anyone, and so I don't know how she thinks she can get anything out of me.
"So why did you decide to analyze murders?' I asked her
"Were not here to talk about me" she replies
So I go back to staring at the wall, counting the cracks. I hear her pen scratching against her notebook. I try to ignore her. The when I finally look back over, she is staring at me, trying to read my body language or something. I don't like that. I decide not to say anything more.
Finally there is loud knock, my hours up. She gets up and opens the door and I walk to the guards with my wrists held out so they can put on the handcuffs. As I'm walking out the door I turn my head slightly to look at her. She stands there with her hands hanging loosely in front of her. So I turn around and walk out.