"Take a break" he says. "It'll do you some good" he says. Well, what exactly makes them think they know me and what I need to do? Because I am damn sure none of them can even fathom what I really want to do. What I know will really help me, but I am not going into that here. I'm not entirely certain that he will keep his promise to not ever read this.
Okay, I suppose now is the time that I explain what I'm actually doing if, god forbid, someone should come across this writing before I destroy it.
I suppose this predicament I'm in started with the meeting I was forced to attend with Father this morning, and it just snowballed from there. I honestly should have exercised a bit more self control, but I think its something with these walls. The white marble is so… desolate, that it just seeps into your soul and starts eating away at what keeps you sane. I suppose now that I'm sitting in a private room at the leading therapist in Atlas, I'm able to detach myself from that place and realize what I did.
The meeting was with three… I can't even think businessmen without being sarcastic. They were complete barbarians, with their clubs and terrified screams, but I'm getting ahead of myself. They were dressed just like anyone else dresses today. Since the fall of the CCT in Vale, everyone's been on edge and carrying some form of weapon even if they don't know how to use it. Not that I even bothered with mine… but again, I'm going too fast. I need to stretch this out a bit otherwise that stupid therapist is going to tell me to "keep going, you're doing great!"
So I walked into the meeting next to my father, and as social protocol suggests, we were the last to enter the room as employer and soon-to-be employer. I hadn't even taken my seat when three varying but equally racist greetings were made to my father who responded simply by getting to the first matter on the itinerary. If I really had to think about it, that was the first omen of a very, very, super, bad, bad, terrible day in the making.
The meeting proceeded and every second comment out of them was some sort of slander toward the faunus. I had already known that they were racists, I've dealt with others like them since my father brought me back to Atlas, but for some reason they were especially grating on my nerves. I've always dealt with these people civilly, asking them to leave their racism at the door when in my presence, but this time I just couldn't. I almost wished to have Yang making one of her strings of bad puns, regardless how annoying those times were, just to replace this constant… filth….
Moving on, I lost my temper and screamed at them. My father fell silent and if the look he gave me could kill, I'd be eight feet under in a pine box and having fun with Pyrrha in that great big party in the sky. As it was, I screamed for a total of six minutes, telling the men what was wrong with their racism and that their mothers would be ashamed of them. When I was done, the comment in reply that one of them made… that broke me. It snapped me like a twig and I saw red. I was so angry… and stressed, I suppose. I haven't been that angry since… since Beacon. And even then, I don't think I was ever that angry with Ruby, or Yang for that matter.
My summoning still hasn't improved a great deal since Beacon, but I suppose that was lucky for the guy I hit with it. I must have looked comical throwing a punch from across the room. Except the glyph I summoned right in front of the filthy animal copied my action, sending a giant metal fist out and sending him through the impact resistant glass and into the reception area. I won't lie here even if this makes me look bad, but it felt really good.
After that the other two seemed to think it was a good idea to get revenge for my forceful removal of their friend from the meeting. They both had club-like weapons that were single-function bludgeoning instruments. They never stood a chance against an ex-huntress-in-training even on my worst day. I was flawless with Myrtenaster, my fairly standard multi-action-dust-rapier.
Their screams, while probably disturbing to the receptionist and the security guards that showed up a record four minutes and thirty eight seconds later, told me that I had gotten my point across… literally. God, now I'm making puns just to make this longer…. Anyway, They were cut up fairly badly and cowering in a corner screaming. The one I'd punched through the glass was still lying on the floor. I couldn't tell if I'd killed him, but I doubted I hit hard enough for that.
When the security guards asked me to come with them, I noticed that my Father was simply looking at his scroll, sitting in his chair in the ruined meeting room as if none of it concerned him. I think that was the first and most convincing thing that prodded me to come to this shrink on the suggestion of the head of security. He was just doing his job of course, but I'll have to decide whether or not I should give him a bonus. Writing about all this is something I'd never even think about myself, and to be honest again, I think it helps to let some of this stress out. But now I'm just getting off topic.
I was shuttled straight from Schnee HQ to this place. Well, I feel this is a sufficient length for this rant. So I say goodbye.