Through the big glass window the young girl looked, seeing the familiar man on the other side. The gray room was the same as it had been every Saturday she had been there. She had ice blue eyes, filled with sadness as she stared at the man who merely smiled back at her. She had caramel blonde hair that was just past her shoulders, but today it was tied neatly into a ponytail in the back of her head. Wearing a gray sweatshirt and a pair of worn-out jeans, the young girl dipped her head back to look at the ceiling. Knowing this visit would be an emotionally troubling one, she gulped, then walked casually into the small gray room.
Instantly, the therapist smiled and greeted her, offering a hand. Reluctantly, she shakes it, then sits down in front of the man's desk. "It's nice to see you again, Olivia. Please, make yourself comfortable." As Olivia looks down towards the ground, the therapist writes something down on the clipboard in front of her as he smiles at her. "How have you been doing lately?"
"Fine. Nothing unusual." She said looking up at him with cold eyes. "Can I go home now?"
"Not yet, Olivia. Do you know why you are here today?" He asks, sighing as she crosses her legs.
"Yes. I know what I've been doing here every Saturday for the past two months." Olivia responds, her voice sounding slightly raspy as the therapist rubs his temples.
"Can you tell me what you know about your father's death?" Olivia now seems awakened, as she puts her arms on the edge of the desk in front of her.
"I told you everything I know, already." She said, rubbing her eyes softly as she looks at the ground.
"How about your mother? How is your mom doing?" She looks at him now, fake smiling for him as she answers.
"She's fine." She pauses, whispering now. "Just peachy." He takes out a file now, reading something at the bottom of the page.
"Your birthday is in 4 days. You turn 12, am I right?" She nods as she crosses her arms and leans on one of her own shoulders. "What do you want for your birthday, Olivia?"
"You know what I really want?" She asks, looking through the window. "I want my mom to stop crying all the time. That's what I want, for my birthday."
"How is it like at home, Olivia?" He questioned, as she glanced up to him looking as if she were about to cry.
She choked on her words, tears finally streaming down her face. "She ignores me. She ignores everyone. We don't talk anymore. She locks herself in her room and cries. And breaks things. She drinks too much. One time, I even caught a strange man in her bed. That is how it has been, with my mother," Olivia says, looking away from him now, sniffling up the remainder of her tears as she wipes away the rest from her face. "I don't know, how much longer I can do this, Dr. Kane. Everyone wants to know what I think. About everything. About her, about my…. My father." She says crying again.
"It's okay, Olivia. Tell me, how was your life before your dad died?"
Her tears subsided, the nearly 12 year old girl responded. "Good. He came around more. He left us, after I was born." She pauses, "My mom was in love with him. She fell in love with him again. Then… he and his brother, my Uncle Peter, went to stop Sylar…. And then he slit his throat."
Staring at her for the longest time, the young therapist, Dr. Kane, felt the most sympathy for the crying girl as she finished talking, her voice sounding shaky. "When did you find out that he was dead?"
"We were looking for him. In the hotel. Mom had to tell him something before he left to find Sylar. We walked in after his neck was slit. I couldn't look. But she draped herself over him, and she cried. A lot. That's why they all think she did it. Dr. Kane, my mother didn't kill him. Sylar did. I know she didn't kill him." Olivia, sobs into her hands now, breathing between the terrible crying. The therapist, always having a connection with the children he saw, had no idea what to say to the child.
"All I want is for her to stop crying. "Stop crying, I tell her. Mommy, please stop crying. He didn't love you. He didn't even love me! He loved himself, and his job."
He writes something down in on the clipboard as he looks sympathetically towards the child. "Olivia, I'm so sor-"
"Just…." She stops, wiping away tears in her eyes. "Everyone says that. They all say it sucks to be the love child stuck in the middle. I know what they all say. Sometimes, I wish I could go back and tell him. Because, he didn't know. He didn't know how much she loved him. She loves him more than life… more than me."
"That's not true, Olivia, she-"
"Yeah, she's going through a rough time. She's been going through a "rough time" my entire life." She answers, with slight anger in her voice. "Dr. Kane, you asked me if I knew why I was here today. And I do. The psyches think I'm crazy. I'm not upset. I'm not grieving over him. I'm mad. I'm mad that she's spending so much time crying over him."
"It's perfectly normal to feel that way."
"Yeah, because that's what I am." She says, staring him down with those cold blue eyes. "Perfectly normal."
Looking from his clipboard to his watch, the therapist gives a long sigh before speaking again. "This was a productive secession, Ms. Strauss. You are free to go now. See you next week." Slowly, she gets up from the chair, pushing it forward towards the desk as she leans on it for a moment, putting on the same bored-looking face she had on when she came in. Walking normally she turns back to look at the doctor as she smiles weakly, then leaves through the metal door out of the gray room walking back towards her life of neglect.