"When did you first experience there delusions, Miss Brandon?" he asked, scratching the chin that was invisible beneath a thick grey beard.
"Visions" I corrected, smoothing the lace hem of my drop waist dress.
"They are not visions, Miss Brandon, they are delusions" he replied. He dragged out the word delusions so it sounded as if he was speaking to an imbecile. Perhaps he thought he was.
I grimaced and turned my head away from him and towards the grandfather clock across the red room. Tick-tick-tick. How I wished time would move faster, all I wanted was to go home.
The man sighed, sitting up a little straighter, if possible in his rigid chair. "Visions then, Miss Brandon. When did you fist experience these visions?"
"Two weeks before my last birthday" I replied, biting the corner of my lip, wishing that the floor would open up and save me. But as much as I wanted to be away from this place, I had to hold back a smirk because I knew I was in control.
"And when was this?" he looked deathly bored.
"Three months ago" idiot. Didn't you read my file? I just wanted to run. I smiled at him angelically; it seemed to annoy him, which was mildly entertaining.
"And how old are you, Miss Brandon?" he scribbled on his notepad, as if he actually had something to say.
"Seventeen, sir"
"And would you please describe this vision for me?" his boredom was comical.
"I saw what Mama and Daddy would buy me for my birthday." I almost smiled, thinking of the silver comb and brush set, the way the soft bristles made my long black hair shimmer like glass.
"What was the gift?"
"A brush set. It was lovely." I could swear he almost fell asleep.
"And you are sure you never saw this set before? You never dreamed of having a set like this?" At least he wrote something down this time.
"Sir, my father sells life insurance. I never dreamed of something so lovely. I tried to act surprised but Mama saw through it. I'm not a very good actress" I shrugged.
"How did your mother feel about this?"
"She wanted to know why. I told her I saw her buy it and she started screaming and crying. They bought the set in New York sir, several weeks ago, and I was here with Cynthia at my aunt's house while they were away. She called me a horrid girl and a liar. It was Mama who demanded I be sent here." I sighed. This speech had exhausted me. After the visions, I didn't speak to people very often anymore. Only Cynthia.
His fingers tried to catch up with my explanation as he asked his next question. "But this wasn't the end of your delusions?" I raised my eyebrow and he stumbled over his words. "Visions, end of your visions."
"No" I sighed. "I see lots of things, when Mama will get her hair cut, whenever Cynthia will throw a fit in school. I always can see the weather now. Like when a storm will come" I explain. If only you knew the things I see. If you just understood.
"But you don't think you are merely connecting information and guessing patterns?"
"No sir." He looks interested now so I decide to try to be helpful. "I see visions like a path and what will happen if those decisions are made. When decisions change, the future changes as well."
"Have you had any visions lately" He asks, his eyes intent.
"Yes" my voice coming out in a whisper. I try to shut my eyes against the pictures, the noise, the nightmare that haunts my days and nights. I twist a black curl around my forefinger and try to meet his gaze. "I know that Mama is going to send me away. To the asylum."