MUST READ!!! I know a lot of people don't read author's notes…but…you have to read this one…because I said so. If you don't, I'll know. Not really. But seriously, read this.
Sorry for the delay. Been super busy…with everything. I know I haven't really responded to any reviews, but that's because I checked my emails quickly and said I'd get back to them…and I never did. My fault. I thank you ALL for the reviews. You're all great and amazing. And thank you. I will respond to PMs later. If you asked a question in your last review and I didn't answer and you really want me to answer, ask again…and I'll respond. After I post this chapter, I'm outta here. I'm literally being shoved towards the door as I type this. If you want to know what's going on with my other stories, ask in a review or PM, I don't care which, and I'll get back to you tonight.
Chapter Three - Week Two
Monday, session three
"What is one of your worst fears?" Dr. Cullen asked as he sat down in the same chair as always, with his pad of paper on his lap and his pen ready to jot something down.
I sighed and traced my fingertip over the thin black hair tie around my wrist. "Spending ten weeks with a psychologist who prefers to discuss irrelevant topics," I answered.
He was unfazed by my remark. "Why is that?"
I glanced up at him. "You should be asking me about my symptoms and comparing them to other brain tumor patients' symptoms."
"I'm a psychologist, Bella," he said simply. "I don't have any expertise in brain tumors."
I dug a finger underneath the hair tie, lifted it and snapped it against my wrist. "You can't even give me medication, can you?" I asked. "So why am I even here?"
"No, I can't. I'm not a psychiatrist," he said in response to my first question. "If it turns out that you don't have a brain tumor, would you like to find out if something else is wrong?"
"You're not a real doctor, that's not your area of expertise," I said with a smirk.
He sighed. I was finally getting to him. "I was referring to your mental evaluation."
"You mean you want to find out if I'm schizophrenic or something?" I leaned my back against the armrest and stretched my legs out on the couch. "I might be. I mean, I'm pretty sure I don't hear voices or hallucinate or anything, but how would I really know? Crazy people don't know they're crazy, right?"
"Having schizophrenia doesn't make a person crazy," he said with no emotion in his voice. "And you don't appear to be schizophrenic."
"How do you know I'm not schizophrenic?" I asked. "All you do is talk about feelings."
"Do you think you have schizophrenia?" he asked, his hand holding the pen was just itching to scribble away on that pad of paper.
"No. I didn't say I have schizophrenia or even hint that I thought I did. You shrinks really know how to jumble everything up and put words in a person's mouth."
"Why do you think that?"
My eyes narrowed at him. "You," I pointed at him, "are getting on my last nerve."
"Why is that?"
I threw my head back and whimpered. "Why is that? Why do you think that? Why do you feel that way?" I mimicked and covered my hands over my face. "You know what? I bet you get a bunch of normal people coming in here, but you drive them crazy with your incessant and annoying questions just to send them over the edge so you can make more money off of them."
"I'm doing this pro bono," he reminded me. Meaning that I didn't have to pay for my sessions with him. He was doing it for free. Which was one of the reasons why Dr. Banner suggested him to me. Dr. Cullen certainly wasn't a selfish or greedy person. Though he didn't do this for all of his patients. Just the ones with low income.
"Not for everyone," I said. "But since you mentioned it, why are you doing this for free?"
"I became a psychologist because I genuinely want to help people. Some people who need it the most can't afford it, so I volunteer my services," he explained.
I saw double meaning behind that. "So does that mean I'm one of those people who desperately need so much help that people like you have to resort to charity?"
He leaned forward slightly and cupped his chin with his hand. "Why are you afraid of seeking help?"
I sat back up and stared at him incredulously. "Obviously I'm not," I spoke slowly. "I wouldn't keep going to Dr. Banner if I was."
He shook his head. "Let me re-phrase that, why are you scared to discover that you may not have a brain tumor and find out if there's a possibility that you're suffering from an alternate problem? There could be an underlying issue here."
I crossed my right leg over my left, propped my elbow up on the arm rest and rested the side of my face against my fist. "What is that supposed to mean?"
"Your mother," he started, "how did she die?"
"I already told you," I snapped.
He shook his head. "No, you mentioned she had cancer, but you never said what she was diagnosed with."
I kept my lips zipped and shifted my eyes away from him.
"Bella," he said, trying to gain my attention. "Did she have a brain tumor?"
I glanced at the empty off-white walls. He needed to paint this room or at least add posters, or pictures or something. It was so plain and dull. He only had one wall with bookshelves lined up against it. The rest of the walls were bare, besides the one window.
"Bella," he repeated. "Would I be correct in my assumption that she passed away when she was in her early twenties? Perhaps twenty-two or twenty-three years old?
I averted my eyes back to him. "Why are you talking about Renee? What does this have to do with anything?"
"Subconsciously," he said, "you may have invented the tumor because of your mother. Either because you're afraid it might be genetic, or you want a connection to her. Maybe you want to experience what she went through because you envy the way she lived the last years of her life."
I rolled my eyes. "Where did you pull that one from? One of your textbooks? I already explained why I think I have a brain tumor."
He placed the paper and pen on the desk and sat up straighter. Oh, yay. Another heart-to-heart conversation. How I cherish these. "You've mentioned that in order to be able to do things you want to do, you must have a deadline. That makes sense in a way. Many people procrastinate and need an extra push to get moving."
"Your point?" I interrupted, irritated. I liked to annoy doctors, I didn't like it when it was the other way around.
He cleared his throat. "My point," he said, "is that is an excuse for not following through on the list of things you wish to accomplish. Your reasoning has no foundation for why you believe you have a brain tumor. There is an entirely separate reason for why you think you're sick."
I perched myself on the edge of the couch and took a deep breath. "Dr. Cullen, no offense, but you have no freaking idea what you're talking about."
He nodded his head once. "Go on. Tell me what you're thinking."
"Did your memory wipe out the parts where I said that I needed the brain tumor to feel that 'push'?"
"I said that your excuse for not living the way you want to is because you have no deadline, thus your excuse for the brain tumor."
"Yes," I said slowly.
"That's not the reason why you think you have the tumor."
My hands clenched into fists and I restrained myself from screaming out. "Yes," I said menacingly, "it is."
He shook his head. He was pushing me. "Bella, listen to me. You've explained that you need a push to complete the goals on your list. You're not explaining why you think you have a tumor."
"That is the reason," I practically screeched. "And I do have a tumor. It's not just wishful thinking."
He sighed and shook his head again. "Something else trigged you into believing that you have a tumor. The reason does not relate to the list."
Deep breaths. Deep breaths. You don't want attack Dr. Cullen. You don't want to spend the night in a jail cell. "So are you telling me that I've been lying to you about why I thought I had a brain tumor? 'Cause let me tell you something pal, I wasn't lying."
"No," he said as he leaned even closer towards me. "I believe that you genuinely think you have a brain tumor. You've said that you have symptoms, and I truly believe that you believe that."
"Or," I countered, "maybe I really do have a brain tumor."
"The CT scan came back clean."
"You know what?" I said loudly. "You're going to feel awful shitty when we go back to Dr. Banner in nine weeks and my tumor shows up on the results."
"If that happens to be the case, then, yes, I agree. I would feel terrible for your situation." He picked up the paper and pen, and began writing. "Tell me something, Bella. If it turned out that you do have a tumor, how would you react?"
I shrugged a shoulder. "I'd just be like, 'I knew it'."
His forehead wrinkled. "Are you sure about that?"
"You asked and I answered," I snapped.
"Do you remember telling me that wish you could feel alive?"
I nodded my head slowly with my eyebrows raised.
"If you do have a tumor, and that causes you to appreciate life, what will go through your mind when you're happy and want to live? How will you deal with the realization that you don't have much time left? After all of the trouble you went through to enjoy your life, it's suddenly snatched from beneath you, how will that make everything better?"
I opened my mouth but snapped it shut again. I actually never thought of that before.
The expression on his face showed that he knew what I was thinking. Okay, so he was right about that. So what? But maybe I'd never have fun, even after I discovered the tumor.
"Have you given any thought to marriage or children?" he asked suddenly.
What the hell? "Why? Planning on proposing, doc?" I snickered. "Are we going to escape to some tropical island together and live happily ever after?"
"Seriously," he said, "what are your thoughts on marriage?"
I rolled my eyes and leaned back against the couch. "I think it's not in the cards for me so I couldn't care less about it."
He looked perplexed. "Why do you say that?"
"Who'd want to marry me?" I said bitterly. "Everyone thinks I'm crazy. The best I'd be able to get is someone in prison because he has limited options, or someone who belongs in a mental institution, like me. Even if I don't think I'm crazy, other people do. So it must be true. And like I said before, crazy people don't realize they're crazy. I still stand by my statement that I have brain tumor, though. I don't think I'm crazy when it comes to that that, I probably just have a personality disorder or something."
He stayed silent for a moment, then he began to speak. "There are several things I wish to address about what you just said. The first is, you do not belong in a mental institution. If you did, that's where you'd be right this moment. I view you as a normal woman with slightly…eccentric tendencies. Sure, you're convinced you have a serious illness when you appear to be healthy, but that doesn't make you a candidate for an institution. You're able to function properly in the world, and you're not a threat to yourself or others.
"The second is," he continued, "you have plenty of options when it comes to picking a partner. You're attractive, and you have a likeable personality when you're not trying to insult others while attempting to hide how you really feel. I personally believe you'd have many available suitors chasing after you if you gave them the chance."
My eyes locked onto his, starting when he mentioned that I was attractive. "Right. You're just saying that because you're my psychologist and you have to give me hope and all of that other stupid bullshit."
"Actually," he said as he shifted uncomfortably. "I shouldn't say things like that."
I shook my head and rolled my eyes. "Yeah, sure." I glanced at the clock. "Oh, look at that, it's almost noon. I guess I should get going."
I stood up, and he followed. "Have a good day, Bella," he said genuinely.
I looked at him before nodding and mumbling, "you too."
I left his office, hurried towards the elevator, and once I was inside and the doors closed, I slumped against the wall and my eyes filled with tears. Marriage, children, happiness - things my mother had, things I'd never be able to have.
The doors opened and I rushed out past a small family waiting to get in. I had to hurry up and get to the shelter so I could change for work. It was going to be a long week.
**
Tuesday rolled by without incident. Work was boring, most people avoided me, and my closest friend was the man in the nursing home who kept insisting that today was the day that his wife would come to visit him. I often found myself lingering around him, and he'd tell me stories about her. He seemed to remember his past rather well, it was last twenty or so years that he seemed to have forgotten.
Wednesday was awful. I woke up late, someone at the shelter spilled their orange juice on my work uniform and I didn't have time to change or wash it. I tripped while walking up the stairs. I bumped into an end table and skimmed my knee. I kept limping all day.
I ran into Jessica and her friend Lauren when I went out to eat by myself. She pretended to be polite and asked if I found a place yet, I lied and said yes. I didn't want to give her the pleasure of knowing that I had been staying in a homeless shelter. She was under the impression that I was staying with a friend when she kicked me out of our apartment. I hadn't spoken to said friend in almost a year.
That night I had a nightmare, but I couldn't remember the details when I woke up Thursday morning. I just knew that it scared the hell out of me and I had tears on my face.
**
Thursday, session four
I was still limping from when I banged my knee yesterday and I hopped into Dr. Cullen's office. He was hunched over his laptop when I entered and shut the door behind me. I limped over to the couch, and by the time I sat down and looked up, Dr. Cullen was staring at me.
"What happened to your leg?" he asked, concerned.
"Nothing," I answered quickly. "Gravity and I aren't the best of friends."
He stood up from his desk chair and moved over to the chair beside the couch. "How are you feeling today?"
I shrugged a shoulder. "Fine."
He pursed his lips and tapped the pen against the pad of paper. "Do you have any plans for tomorrow?" he asked.
I raised an eyebrow. "Should I?"
"Tomorrow is Halloween."
I rolled my eyes. "Sorry, doc, I outgrew my princess costume and cheap candy makes me feel sick."
"You're not going to a party with friends?"
I looked away. "Sure, maybe."
He wanted to spend today's session talking about my school experiences and old friends. I didn't know why. Didn't seem relevant to me. I explained that I moved all over the country, and even lived in Germany, Japan and England for a period of time so I never had too many friends as I got older. We moved around too much. When I was younger, I made friends easily and it never really bothered me that I kept making them and leaving them because I was quite resilient. But as I got older and reached middle school, it became harder to leave friends behind, and Charlie and I became more distant from each other.
My junior year in high school, we moved to Chicago when Charlie went into the Reserves. I had lived in Chicago since. After high school I went to Northwestern University, but dropped out after Charlie passed away. My ambition disappeared the same time he did.
For some reason unknown to me, Edward found that rather interesting. He wanted to keep talking about it, but our time was up. We said goodbye and I left.
**
I didn't have work on Friday, so I stayed at the shelter all day and helped the workers decorate the place for the party they were hosting for under privileged children. They had a bunch of games set up, and there were buckets and buckets of candy everywhere. The poor kids were going to get so many cavities. The shelter was funded by a charity, some of the donators were going to stop by today and help out or just observe to see what their money was spent on.
You couldn't imagine my surprise when a familiar bronzed haired man walked in with a short woman who had spiky black hair. What was he doing here? He couldn't see me here. Not in a homeless shelter. That wouldn't be good.
I ducked behind a table that held the fruit punch and bit on one of my fingernails. I silently prayed that he would walk straight back out, or least turn around so I could sneak out.
A small kid accidentally bumped into me and dropped something. I reached down to pick it up without looking directly at it, when I looked down, I screamed and jumped up. It was a rubber spider. But it looked real.
It took me a moment to notice that the entire place was silent and every pair of eyes were on me. Including his. Uh oh.
"Oopsie." I laughed nervously before I felt as though I would throw up and faint in front of everyone. There were too many pairs of eyes on me. Too many people. Way too many people.
Slowly, people started looking away, their interest in me subsiding once they realized nothing spectacular was going to happen. At first they probably thought I was going to put on a little show, or maybe they expected some big scary guy in a monster costume to jump out. I didn't know, but they didn't seem to care about my outburst anymore.
I caught a pair of green eyes trained on me so I inhaled a deep breath before spinning around and high tailing it towards the back of the shelter, were a tent was set up for crystal ball readings. The staff had hired some lady to tell the children their fortunes for fun. As far as I knew, she hadn't arrived yet.
Wasn't it just convenient that he happened to come here today? Did he follow me here after one of our sessions? Or perhaps he was one of the donators. But seriously, how likely was that? Dude probably had his people keeping tabs on me.
Said stalker was headed my way as he dodged children dressed as zombies, skeletons, pumpkins, witches, vampires and princesses.
I whistled a snazzy tune from the fifties and bent over to pretend to be tying my laceless shoes.
"Bella?" I felt the ominous presence of Doctor Edward Cullen.
I whistled louder.
"Bella?" he repeated and a warm hand pressed against the fabric on my hunched back.
I wanted to say that I wasn't this Bella person, that it was just a mask, and since it was Halloween, maybe he'd fall for it. But I decided that pretending he was invisible would be a better and safer option.
A female voice cut through the voices and music swirling around us. "Follow me and get your fortune told by the mystic and enchanted crystal ball."
My head shot up as I caught a glimpse of the black haired woman disappearing into the tent.
"Bella?" Dr. Cullen called my name for third time.
Oh, what the hell, he wasn't going to give up anytime soon. I darted my gaze over to him and pretended to be surprised. "Dr. Cullen! Sup?"
He gave me an odd look. "What are you doing on the floor?"
"Whistling."
"Why?"
"The tumor is pressing down on my brain. It makes me behave erratically." I pushed myself up. "What're doin' here? In a shelter? On Halloween?"
He glanced towards the opening in the tent. "I brought my niece, actually."
"Aw. You have a niece?" I looked around for a little girl. "Where is she? You know, you really shouldn't leave kids alone around here. There might be some children snatchers lurking about."
He seemed to find what I said amusing. "She can handle herself. What are you doing here?"
I rubbed my hands together nervously and started at a spot on the floor. "I was…lost…and I…um…spotted a large group of people, so…I…followed the crowd here? Yeah." I glanced up at him before quickly looking away again. "So, um, why did you ditch your niece to say howdy to me?"
A head with black hair popped out from the tent. "I do the ditching, he didn't ditch me."
I stared at her incredulously as she disappeared back into the tent, then my eyes shot over to Edward. "I thought you said you were here with your niece."
"I did," he confirmed.
"So who was that?" I pointed at the tent.
"My niece."
"But she's like…old…er."
The head popped back out. "Twenty-four is not old!" And the head slipped inside.
I turned to Dr. Cullen. "You have a twenty-four old niece?"
He nodded.
"Jeez. What are you? Forty-five? You look damn good for your age." I blushed at near the end of my sentence and shook my head. I didn't mean for it to sound like that.
He rubbed the back of his head sheepishly. "Actually, she's my much older brother's daughter."
"So was it like a Father of the Bride part two type of thing?"
Before he could reply, Angela approached us. Uh-oh. "Bella, there you are." She breathed a sigh of relief.
Gah. Shoo, woman! Shoo! I'm pretending not to live at the shelter right now! I made wild hand gestures as Edward feasted his eyes on her and vertical twin crease lines appeared between his brows.
Angela cocked her head to the side. "Are you feeling alright, hon?" she asked in concerned tone.
Edward snapped his head back towards me and my hands froze in mid-air. I smiled before hiding them behind my back. "I'm fantastic, lady I've never met before. Oh, look, it's late. Bedtime. Better get home. Later!" I spun on my heel but was stopped by the sound of Angela's voice.
"Bella, are you sure you're okay?"
I turned around and shot her an annoyed look.
"You didn't drink anything funny tasting, did you?" she asked. "Why don't you go lie in your bed for a bit?"
I slammed my palm against my forehead. I hoped Dr. Cullen wasn't smart enough to put two and two together, but since he had a PhD even though he looked fairly young, I'd say that the chances that he was one those meathead jocks in college were slim to none.
"Do you two know each other?" Dr. Cullen gestured between the two of us.
I whimpered and knew it was inevitable, he was going to discover my secret.
Angela did a double take before her eyes lit up. "Oh, Dr. Cullen! I didn't recognize you!"
I snorted. Who could forget what he looked like? The dude was easy on the eyes. Pretentious and annoying, but not bad looking. And now was when I just realized that Angela and the doc knew each other. Crap.
"Please, call me Edward," Dr. Cullen insisted. "It's nice to see you again. How is your family?"
"Oh, you know." Her gaze lowered and her smile dimmed. "Ben's having a rough time coping and he has a habit of shutting me out, but he is getting better. Thanks to you."
I was able to form some of the missing pieces myself now. Ben was Angela's husband who was in the military and had been overseas when there was an explosion and he lost his arm, and now suffered from PTSD. I assumed, judging by the conversation Dr. Cullen and Angela were now carrying, that he was Ben's psychologist.
The older I got, the more I realized how unfair and harsh life could be. Tragedy was constantly lurking around the corner. It had been years since my dreams of happily ever afters crossed my mind. No one ever lived a true fairytale. It was all bullshit.
"Oh, well, I love working here," Angela's voice rang in my ears. She and Dr. Cullen were in the middle of a conversation but I felt weird about listening in so I had blocked out most of it. I was thinking about sneaking away when her next words made me wish I were invisible. "It always boosts my confidence about being able to overcome unfortunate circumstances when I meet people like Bella," she gestured to me, "who have very little and they're still getting through the day with a smile on their face." She smiled at me. "She's definitely one of my favorites in the shelter. She's always helping others and she's a great person in general."
Dr. Cullen nodded his head absentmindedly. "How long have you been staying in the shelter, Miss Swan?"
I groaned and searched for an escape. "It's just temporary," I insisted.
A volunteer came up to Angela and demanded her attention with something. So it was just me and Dr. Cullen standing face to face.
He looked serious. "You failed to mention to your current living situation. I was under the impression you were renting an apartment with a roommate."
I frowned. "I didn't want your pity."
He sighed. "Do you want to take a walk so we can talk?"
"Is that allowed?" I asked cautiously. "You're not going to charge me extra for this, are you?"
"I've never asked you to pay for a single session," he reminded me. "Think of it as two friends catching up."
I pursed my lips. "Does that mean you'll tell me something about yourself?"
"Let's keep the focus on you."
I rolled my eyes. "Oh, great. I get to play the babbling selfish friend."
He poked his head inside the tent and told his niece that he was going for a walk and he'd be back in half an hour.
"Forty-seven minutes," she corrected.
I glanced at Dr. Cullen. "Don't tell me she honestly believes she's psychic."
"I am psychic!"
I raised my eyebrows and mouthed, "Oookay."
Dr. Cullen shook his head and motioned for me to lead the way towards the exit.
"I am!" I heard the niece whine.
I held a finger up to Dr. Cullen and snuck into the tent. Niece Cullen was sitting behind a table with a crystal ball on top, she had a ridiculous outfit on, trying to appear as being mystical or magical or whatever.
"If you're psychic, tell me exactly what's going to happen in five minutes," I demanded.
"It doesn't work like that," she replied calmly.
"Uh huh. Okay. That's a total cop-out."
She closed her eyes and glided her tiny pale hands in the air, near to the crystal ball but never touching. "I see your future," she hummed comically.
I rolled my hand in a circular motion, prompting her to continue.
"I only give readings to paying costumers." She held her hand out.
"You're so fake, and you're scamming poor children out of money!"
She pointed to the sign to her sign.
"Payment required: Two chocolate tootsie rolls and a miniature Crunch bar," I already aloud. I narrowed my eyes. "You're taking candy from children? At a charity function?"
Dr. Cullen stepped inside and ushered me out.
"I'm on to you, Niece Cullen!" I shouted as I followed her uncle.
"It was a pleasure meeting you, Bella Swan!" she shouted back.
I paused and looked my doctor in the eyes. "Did you tell her my name?"
He shook his head. "No."
My brows furrowed and I stared at the tent in shock.
"But it's on your nametag," he continued.
I glanced down. Sure enough, my name tag on the front of my shirt had my name on it. I laughed. "Nice try, Niece Cullen! You almost fooled me. Better luck next time!"
Dr. Cullen rose an eyebrow at me for an explanation for my behavior.
I sighed. "I have a personal issue with so called psychics." We continued walking towards the great outdoors. "I used to believe in them when I was younger, and well, there was one that I went to see for at least six months, and she seemed pretty convincing. That was until she claimed to be communicating with my dead mother, and I was skeptical at first, but then I fell for it. It was all a scam. She made me believe that my mom was actually watching over me, but then there was a lot of media coverage about her being a fraud and ripping people off and giving them false hope. I should've known better."
We stepped outside and Dr. Cullen stuffed his hands in his pockets. "Alice isn't a psychic. She's just playing the part tonight."
"I still hate frauds," I muttered.
Dr. Cullen just stared at me.
I sighed again. "I know, how hypocritical, right? Everyone believes I'm pretending to have a brain tumor and here I am talking about how much I hate people faking that they have something they don't. But, I'm not trying to scam people. I just know that there's something wrong. I don't care what those test results showed. I can feel it. I just know it's there. I wish someone would listen to me. Just believe me."
He cleared his throat. "I believe you, Bella. I may not be confident that you have a tumor, but I am certain that you believe you do."
I sighed. "That's not the same thing, and you know it."
He breathed heavily out of his nose and pursed his lips. "Do you want to talk about why you're staying in the shelter?"
"I guess I kind of have to, don't I?"
"I'm not forcing you to say anything."
We walked side by side on the sidewalk as little monsters ran past us smiling, laughing and hold bags filled with candy.
"But, I mean, I have to be honest, right? Otherwise, how else can you trust me?" I tucked a strand of hair behind my ear. "Okay, so I was sharing an apartment with Jessica, but we had a…falling out. Well, actually, she packed my bags and kicked me out, but to be fair, I lied and told her that I had another place to go. She doesn't know I'm staying in the shelter."
"She kicked you out?" he asked with a tone mixing between incredulity and defensiveness. "That's illegal. You should have contacted the-"
"I know," I interrupted, "But she had good blackmail material."
He shook his head silently before he sighed. "I think we should work on you becoming more assertive."
Dr. Cullen and I spent the rest of the time talking about apartment hunting. He gave me a few numbers and addresses and asked me to check them out. As safe as the shelter was, he said he'd prefer it if I moved into an apartment. Since I had a job, I could afford one, but only a terribly small one. We did live in Chicago, after all. Everything was ridiculously expensive. I'd either need to get a roommate or slum it.
When we returned to the shelter, I introduced Dr. Cullen to Jakey. They didn't seem to like each other very well. Jake sneered at him. Well, he got as close to sneering as a ferret could.
I apologized to Niece Cullen and she simply flashed a smile and told me to hand her my palm. Apparently the lines on my palm indicated that I was going to live a long life, be moderately wealthy and have a crappy love life. She was correct about the love life, but the other two, no way. I told her to keep her day job, and in response, she asked me to have lunch sometime soon.
Strange girl.
I wondered if it was inappropriate for me to interact with my psychologist's niece on a personal level. Ah, hell, as if I even cared.
Rules were meant to be broken anyway.
Author's Note: So, I combined the original chapters three and four together….because I could. If you skipped over the first author's note…you should read it. I typed it out for all of you. Even risked my sister beating me up so we could hurry up and leave.
