A note from F.A. D'Laurentis - This chapter was written in it's entirity by guest author NoComparison. I have only added my own slight editorial changes where deemed necessary. This is the longest chapter so far in the series and I hope you enjoy her writing style as much as mine. Thank you.

In the last chapter, Leena was taken to Doctor Browning's office as a result of the incident in the forest. Syrah soon came to join her, and things took a turn for the worse when Syrah made the mistake of calling Esther by her real name.. The session with Doctor Browning continues unabated...

I could hear my heart thudding, jack-hammering repeatedly in my chest. Bile rose in my throat, but I pushed it down with a gulp. A shudder ran up the base of my spine, I could feel the hairs on the back of my neck stand on edge. This couldn't have happened. It had to be in my imagination. Syrah couldn't have said what I thought she said.

I glanced over at my sister, whose eyes were wide as saucers. Syrah covered her mouth with one hand, giving me a remorseful look, had she truly realized what she had just done? 'Why, Syrah, why did you have to risk my future like this?' I thought, feeling the worry, tension and anxiety building within me in a steady wave. Stress like this was not good for a woman of my unstable mentality, or for any other human being for that matter.

Oh, what I would have given to go back in time and stop my cursed name from ever escaping my sister's lips. A slip up like that wouldn't go amiss and after Syrah had already blurted out we were from Estonia? There was no way Doctor Browning was going to let it slide. No way in hell. "Slip up" doesn't even begin to suffice the severity of Syrah's error.

I felt like my life, the huge lie I had used as a smoke screen for so long, was now hanging by a slender thread. I looked at Doctor Browning, my eyes meeting hers for the briefest of moments. In them, I could see my own reflection, and it disgusted me. To have ''Esther'' staring back at me, her youthful innocence a stark contrast and mockery to the bitter, broken woman hiding underneath. The doctor's attention was immediately directed to my Syrah. ''Leena?'' she asked. Not for the first time I found myself thinking of how much I loathed my real name, and all that was associated with it. ''I thought your sister's name was Esther? What do you mean 'I came here to be with Leena?''

My head turned towards Syrah, whose cheeks flushed red. 'Come on, Sy Sy, don't fail me now, don't do me wrong' I thought, watching her intently. All she had to do was lie. It was that simple. Just make up a little white lie, how hard could that be? Apparently very difficult as Syrah began to stutter, wringing her hands, her eyes not meeting the doctors. ''D-Did I say Leena?'' she asked. ''Forgive me, I meant to say Esther, obviously.'' This was becoming a huge train wreck with no end in sight!

With one glance at Doctor Browning, I could tell she wasn't satisfied by my sister's explanation. She stared intently at Syrah. "You did say Leena. Do you know someone by that name?"

Syrah bit her lip. She had paled considerably, the nervousness clearly showing upon her face. She looked like she had just been told of her own imminent execution. I could empathise with her in that regard. But my blood still boiled over her stupid mistake. I knew I would have to step in, to ''save the day'', so to speak. I racked my brains for an excuse. ANY excuse. Whatever I could say to make the doctor forget about "Leena." Each uncomfortable second was as unbearable as the last. After some thought, I suddenly remembered the lie I had told at the Russian orphanage I stayed in during the time before the Sullivan's adopted me.

I knew that if Syrah wouldn't save herself then I would have to do it for her. ''Mommy's name was Leena,'' I cut in. Both Doctor Browning and Syrah immediately turned their attention to me. ''Our real mommy, I mean. Leena Ivanovitch. Syrah always tells me I remind her so much of mommy. Sometimes she calls me that by accident.''

The colour returned to Syrah's cheeks. She smiled gratefully at me, deciding to go along with my little lie and roll with the flow. Her chest deflated as she must have been holding her breath the entire time. ''That's right,'' she nodded. ''Our real mother was named Leena. She and Esther are SO similar, it's uncanny sometimes. There's times I look at Esther and I really do feel as if I'm looking at a younger version of my mother. I must have been thinking about that, just a slip of the tongue. I just miss her so much. Like I said, I'm just scatter brained this morning. My apologies. You have to bear with me.'' Syrah's language was shaky and unsteady. Were we safe yet?

I looked up at Doctor Browning, silently pleading that she would buy the lie. I studied her expressionless face intently for even the most subtle hint of gullibility. Perhaps it was just my nerves, but I just wasn't able to read her. Folding my hands demurely in my lap, I tried to look as innocent and sweet as possible.

Doctor Browning's attention was focused entirely on my sister. She held her clip-board on her lap, pen in her left hand, ready to write. "Your birth mother's name was Leena Ivanovitch?" she asked. Syrah nodded, and the doctor scribbled the information down. It looked like she was buying it. Another crisis averted, so I hoped. I wanted to give myself a pat on the back for my quick thinking in such a tense situation. Sometimes in life you just have to know how to save your own ass.

As the doctor scribbled more notes, her attention focused on the page, I looked over at Syrah, giving her a tiny smile. Part of me was still angry with her, still boiling over her outrageous, near fatal blunder, but I knew there would be time enough for us to confront this issue later. My Sy Sy would have to learn to be more careful with her words, that was all.

Doctor Browning looked seriously at us, her eyes seeming to stare right through me. It almost felt like she could see right through the gunky makeup and the childish dress. For a long moment, we held each other's gaze before she turned her attention back to my sister. "And another thing, Syrah, you mentioned before that you had relatives growing up in Estonia. Perhaps you could tell me more about this? What made your family move to Russia?"

'Shit!' I thought, feeling a wave of total panic wash over me. I thought she had forgotten about Estonia. She hadn't mentioned it in a while, I had no idea it was even still in her mind. I looked up at Syrah, silently warning her to be careful with how she answered. 'Just lie, Syrah, come on, sister, it's not that hard!'

Syrah's left leg began to shake. This session was really taxing on her as a whole. "I had relatives in Estonia, yes. A few of my uncles and cousins lived there, and I spent a large part of my childhood growing up there," she lied. "My parents decided to permanently move to Russia about a year before Esther was born. Our father's job promoted him, and they decided it would be best for the whole family if we simply lived there on a permanent basis. Well, that's the short story, anyways. We put down roots in both countries. "

The doctor continued scribbling away, her pen clicking rapidly against the page. I could only guess about what the next question would be? What would be the final nail in the coffin? 'Just finish up already, let us go!' I pleaded silently, though deep down I knew this session was far from over. I might as well have been tortured; it certainly felt as terrifying as a medieval interrogation. I looked behind the doctor, out the rear window. Ominously, a black crow perched itself in a tree. What this a sign? A bad omen of even worse things to come today? I gulped and tried to ignore it.

I shifted in my seat, feeling a sense of overwhelming nervousness. I felt it engulf me as if I were drowning. My stomach tied itself into endless knots. I had to be extra careful now, to ensure that no other cherished secrets were given away. Syrah, I could tell, was feeling the same way. Both of us were on tenterhooks. "And what was it like, living in Estonia?" she asked. God, would she ever just shut the fuck up about it? I mean, honestly, neither Syrah nor I wanted to talk about Estonia or about anything else for that matter. Believe me, the frustration I felt in this moment made me want to just scream out. Why did this stranger have to barge into our fucking business? Did we not have the right to our personal lives?

Syrah sighed with careful intention as she spoke. "Estonia's a beautiful country," she said truthfully. "I have so many memories of living there.'' Syrah gave another smile to the doctor, her hands folded demurely in her lap. ''I mean, I can remember playing with my cousins each winter, the snow was always something spectacular. We lived in Tallinn, the nation's capital. The hustle and bustle, the markets, a very cultural, historic place to live, it truly is. If it wern't for Esther here I would still be where I was. But we both know things turned out differently."

'Good, Sy Sy,' I thought proudly. 'See, this lying thing isn't so bad, is it?' Deep down I knew my sister would be feeling guilty over having to lie about her family and childhood, but what other choice did she have in this situation? What was her alternative? To tell the doctor about our father's sexual relationship with the two of us? For Doctor Browning to know about the beatings Syrah suffered at the hands of father? No, believe me, any story was more favorable than the truth.

Time seemed to have no meaning anymore. I felt frozen in a perpetual hell. I fought tooth and nail to stay still, trying to ensure I was putting on the best show possible. A thousand thoughts were racing in my mind, along with all of the worry, anxiety and bitter nervousness that a person could possibly feel. They were all circling round and round in my tormented psyche. Was I giving anything away? Could the doctor see through the innocent nine-year-old facade? Truly is she were suspicious in any way, there was no way she was going to make it known to us. I've dealt with enough therapists to know better myself.

How I wished I could read minds, be able to tell what she was thinking, how she felt about the 'little girl' sitting across from her. 'Damn you, Kate Coleman.. why did you have to drag me through this misery?' I thought in furious rage, feeling another surge of boiling hatred for the cheap whore of a woman sitting outside in the waiting room. 'Your time is running out, Kate. Enjoy life while you can, you'll be in HELL once I'm through with you. You ARE going to pay for doing this to us. Mark my damn words on that one. This will NOT go unpunished!'

All I wanted was to just get up and leave, not to be trapped in this claustrophobic room any more, but I knew that was not an option. No, for now all Syrah and I could do was take this in stride to the best of our abilities. Doctor Browning scribbled more notes, her pen scratching the paper. I felt as if the walls of this office were beginning to close in on me. It was as if the room was literally beginning to get smaller and smaller. I had to remind myself that I was safe, I had to fight the hallucination. Did the doctor have any clue how much damage she was causing to my sanity?

'What the fuck is she writing? Tell me what the hell you're writing' I thought, wishing I could give anything just to look over her shoulder to see what it was. My paranoid mind convinced me it was something incriminating, something that would send both Syrah and I right to the proverbial gallows. To me, this woman was no different from Dr. Varava, this therapy session no less intimidating than the dozens I had already undergone in my brutal years at Saarne. But I didn't need a straightjacket to feel helpless and confined. No, those feelings were already so well engrained.

I looked up at 'Cynthia', my eyes meeting hers yet again. I could sense a hint of accusation in her stare, filling me with a yearning to simply gouge those damn eyes out. 'Come on, just let us go.. What more do you NEED?' I thought. ''Esther,'' the doctor said, now looking right at me, the notepad resting upon her lap. ''I know you don't really want to talk to me, sweetheart, but I would like to ask you about your mommy and daddy. About Russia.''

''I...'' I started, feeling another bead of sweat drip down my forehead. One wrong word and I was done for. Oh, how I wanted to burst up from my seat and speak my mind for all it was worth. Just to let her know how I really felt about her and her practice. ''I don't really wanna talk about that. Just...please!''

Doctor Browning's eyes clearly showed the frustration she was feeling at my lack of effort. She certainly wasn't getting any answers from shy little Esther, was she? ''Esther, come on now. I just want to talk to you. I told you before, nothing you or your sister says will leave this room.''

'Shut the fuck up, just SHUT UP! Just die already!' I thought. I could hear myself screaming within the dark recesses of my troubled mind. This woman, this pathetic excuse for a doctor, she was lucky I didn't jab that annoying pen in her hand right through her fucking jugular. I bit my lip and looked up at her sweetly. ''I don't really want to talk about that,'' I repeated, sterner this time. If she thought she was going to get blood from a stone then she had another thing coming.

As I said before, this damn interrogation was going no better than the ones I had constantly gone through in Saarne. I despised 'Cynthia' almost as much as I despised Dr. Varava. True, she may not have degraded and abused me as they had, but she was still just some fool pretending to care. Pretending to know me. Pretending to be my friend as if we've known each other for years. But I was likely little more than dollar signs in her paycheck. God, she repulsed me to no end.

Her whiny, elderly voice really grated in my eardrums. ''Esther, come on now. You need to talk to me so that I can help you. I'm not here to be mean to you, or pass judgement as I told you earlier.. You know that your big sister and I are both on your side. After all, your mother brought you here so that I can help you with your problems. I know, I know that this isn't easy. This has to be very difficult and uncomfortable for you. I'm not going to pretend that it isn't.' She gave me a look that she surely thought was comforting, but that I could liken more to a stern glare.

'I already fucking know my sister's on my side, more so than you'll ever be, you old hag,' I thought, gritting my teeth, fighting the urge the just smack her right in her ugly, wrinkled face. This interrogation, it had finally pushed me to the edge of the cliff. I came to America to get AWAY from doctors and psychiatrists and idiotic 'counselling sessions'. If I wanted to be grilled by some patronising asshole I would have just stayed at Saarne. What constructive purpose was this going to be of benefit to me?

''I really, really don't want to talk about that,'' I said, staring at my lap. ''I don't really want to talk about anything actually. Please, I'm...I'm getting angry!'' My disgust and contempt for this woman was growing. She sat there, like a damn self-righteous bitch, trying to dig her knife a little deeper into my worn and tired body. To pull out as much of my sordid secrets as she could. Digging into my wounds with her dirty fingers.

"Esther, come on now. I'm not going to be able to help you if you won't talk to me. Please, I don't want to make this any more difficult than it has to be. You have no reason to feel angry. Why don't you just tell me a little bit about your life in Russia. Can you remember much about it? What did you like to do in Russia?"

I shifted uncomfortably in my seat. I could feel a sarcastic laugh of contempt rising in my throat. I realised I would have to start talking just a little or she would think I was being difficult. I came to the bitter conclusion that staying silent would only prolong this protracted misery. And I could do without that. Hopefully if I gave her the answers she wanted now, it would stop her from wanting to see me any further. Maybe, just maybe. That I could forget about future visits. But in the back of my mind I knew it was probably little more than wishful thinking. I seemed to be in a hole that was much too deep to climb out of. I gave a quick glance at Syrah, who nodded that I should continue speaking. She was itching to see this over and done with as much as I did.

With a nod to my sister, I lifted my head and let my gaze meet the doctor's. "I really don't remember all that much of my life in Russia. Just little bits and pieces. Playing with Syrah, being with mommy and daddy. Nothing.. significant." My heartbeat was beginning to quicken, my brow beaded with sweat.

Doctor Browning still would not let the situation go. Her eyes focused on my sister. I felt as though she would reach out and grab Syrah away from me. Both she and Syrah were now fixed on each other, their gazes meeting across the otherwise quiet room. I guess the doctor realized that I was going to remain as tight lipped as possible. ''Syrah, perhaps you can answer a few questions about your parents. If that wouldn't be too much of a hassle?'' I almost wanted Syrah to say no, that it WOULD be too much of a hassle. That would not happen. She wanted to get through this as smoothly as possible. If that meant answering a few questions, could I really blame her?

I just hoped she wouldn't slip up any further. Legions of tiny acrobats were doing somersaults in my stomach as I watched my sister smooth down the creases in her skirt, her eyes looking straight ahead. ''Yes,'' she said, ''what do you want to know about our parents, about Russia?'' Now Syrah and I had already discussed our cover story for ''Esther's'' biological parents. I could only hope that she remembered it. She certainly was not as good of a liar as I was.

Doctor Browning put the pen down, looking intently into Syrah's eyes. Perhaps she was searching for some sign of nervousness within them, some sign of a falter behind Syrah's strong gaze. 'Stay strong, sister, stay strong,' I pleaded silently. I clutched the Kleenex in my hand, playing with it absent-mindedly, tearing it into little pieces. I wished I could tear up this doctor just as easily. Again, I reminded myself that I was Esther, that Leena Klammer had to stay under the surface, had to hide behind the cracking porcelain doll I tried so hard to pretend was real.

''Now, Syrah,'' Cynthia started, ''I just want to ask you one or two questions. First of all, you said your mother's name was Leena Ivanovitch. Perhaps you could tell me about her, did you and Esther have a good relationship with your mother?'' What kind of fucking question was that? I swear, this moronic excuse for a doctor seemed to just be talking for the sake of talking. I looked over at my sister, who sat tall, her hands neatly folded. She paused again for a moment before answering Cynthia's question.

As Syrah opened her mouth to reply, I once again felt an involuntary cold shiver run up my back. Given that my sister had already slipped up twice, I would immediately tense up every time she opened her mouth. I could NOT allow her to slip up again. We could not afford any more mistakes. "Yes, very much so" Syrah responded, her thick Estonian accent being the only sound in the otherwise tersely silent room, "Esther and I had a very close relationship with both of our parents, especially with our mother. She was a caring, hard working woman who always looked out for our best interests. She was somebody my sister and I could look up to, somebody we could admire."

Cynthia wrote more notes as she listened intently to my sister's words. As the seconds turned into minutes, as Syrah and I grew more and more tense, I wondered how much time had actually passed. Surely our half hour MUST be over by now? 'Just let us fucking go already, hurry up!' I thought. I could have been home playing with my daughter right now, instead of having to go through this shit. My hatred for both Kate and Doctor Browning was bubbling under the surface, building and building like a pressure cooker getting ready to violently blow it's top. I could not let it explode at a time like this, there was far too much at stake.

"So you had a good relationship with your mother. And you father?" she probed. Syrah gulped. Tiidrik was extremely abusive to her growing up. But she kept a straight face as she kept the lies going. I knew this was hard on her. "We didn't get the spend alot of time with him. He worked in business for the government and was always traveling. We would only get to see him a few times a month so we never were really close." Cynthia nodded. "So your home life with Esther seems to have been fairly normal?" My sister acknowledged this.

"Syrah," the doctor addressed my sister, a sympathetic look on her features. How I wished I could just slap it clean off, "I have another question to ask of both you and Esther. Forgive me for it being so personal but it is something that needs to be asked.." she took a deep breath, setting the pen and clipboard aside as she locked eyes with my sister and I. "What happened to your parents? How did you get to this point?" Clearly she was referring to 'Esther' becoming an orphan in the first place.

Syrah looked down at her hands, a blush forming across her cheeks, while I bit my lower lip so hard I felt as if my teeth would pierce through. I stole a shy glance at her. It goes without saying we would have to lie, doesn't it? This whole day was becoming one gigantic lie. I could only imagine how Cynthia would react if I told her I'd murdered my own father. If I told her about our incestuous relationship. Ha! Her fucking head would probably explode. I looked down at my tiny hands, my mouth parting slightly, trying to give off the impression of a sweet and innocent child who simply didn't want to talk about her tragic past. "There.. there was a fire.." I muttered, speaking before giving Syrah the chance.

I felt my eyes blur with crocodile tears and I hurriedly wiped them away with the cuff of my sleeve, trying to rustle up some sympathy from the doctor. I continued speaking, my voice breaking between my tears. "Our.. our home caught fire one afternoon.. mommy and daddy were at home.. a-and.." The lies were just pouring from my mouth, one after the other. Doctor Browning took a sharp intake of breath as if preparing for the horrors I was about to speak of next. I could tell my sob story really tugged at her heartstrings. Now perhaps SHE was the one feeling uncomfortable.

"Syrah had just collected me from school and w-when we got home, there was all these police men and ambulances around. This policeman came over to Syrah and I and he t-told us.. that.. that m-mommy and daddy went to heaven.." I said innocently, "the fire k-killed them." I covered my mouth with my hands, pretending to be on the edge of hysterics. "I don't know why it happened."

The doctor wrote my story down, a sympathetic look in her eyes. She shook her head sadly. "What a terrible shame, that has to be one of the most horrible things I've ever heard", she whispered. She wanted a story and she got one. When she spoke again, her voice had taken on the whiny tone one often uses when talking down to a child. Not that I could truly blame her for that, after all it's what she perceived me as. It was gentle yet offensive to my ears. "And then you were taken to an orphanage?" she asked. I nodded.

"Y-yes. Syrah tried to take care of me herself for a few m-months but she didn't have enough.. she couldn't.." I trailed off, my lower lip quivering, tears beginning to stream down both my cheeks. "It was too hard for her to care for me. We didn't have a lot of money, and so I got taken to the orphanage. There was nobody else who could take care of me. We don't have alot of family."

At this, I covered my mouth again and burst into a torrent of fresh sobs, turning my head and burying my face in Syrah's shoulder. She reached out and wrapped an arm around me, stroking my hair and rubbing my back as I cried. "I-I'm sorry," I wept, wiping away each tear as it came, "it's all.. so hard, just so hard.'' Syrah rocked me. "It's going to be alright. Don't talk about anything that you don't want to", she assured me.

I really had to commend myself for my acting ability. I should win an Oscar for best performance now shouldn't I? Syrah drew me in closer still as I leaned my head against her shoulder, trying to soak up some of her strength and love. ''With all due respect, doctor,'' she began, rubbing circles into my back as I slowly began to calm myself down, ''this is a very upsetting thing for Esther and I to have to talk about. I know it's been years since it happened, but it still haunts us. Losing a parent, losing both of our parents, it's not something that ever goes away. The memories and pain are still as fresh and raw today as they were the day it happened.'' I really had to admire Syrah's eloquent choice of wording. She just had that special way with words that really made you admire her intelligence and kindness.

The doctor nodded. Through my tears I could tell she felt guilty for having "made me cry". She had to pause to take off her glasses, grab a Kleenex and wipe away a few of her own tears. ''No, Syrah, I completely understand. It must have been so difficult for both you and Esther. To have to go through that, to lose your parents and then be separated from each other. It's too heartbreaking to even think about. But you know what, Esther?'' she addressed the conversation to me again, ''you're a very brave little girl for going through what you did. I know your big sister must be so, SO proud of you. And I know your mommy and daddy are looking down on you, and they're proud of you and Syrah too. Never forget that, sweetheart.''

''Really?'' I replied, pulling away from my sister as I tried to put myself back together. I brushed a lock of hair back behind my ear and sat up straight, readjusting my collar, smoothing down my skirt. I bowed my head, pretending to be embarrassed to have broken down in the way that I had. ''I'm sorry for getting so upset.'' 'That's it, Leena.. you tug on those heartstrings,' I thought wickedly.

The doctor shook her head. ''No, Esther, there's no need to apologise, honey. I really appreciate your willingness to speak with me, I feel it will really help both you and Syrah if you're open with me like that from now on. Now are you sure you're okay? Do you need a minute or two?''

''No, thank you,'' I said, pretending to wipe the last few tears away, ''I'm fine now. Everything is fine. Thank you.'' Syrah reached out and squeezed my hand, a kind-hearted look in her eyes. We both looked at each other for a moment, reassuring one another that this would all be over soon. I then turned my attention fully back to the woman sitting across from me. I knew I had hit a home run in my favor.

Doctor Browning got up from her seat, placing the clipboard and pen in a cubbyhole below the desk.'' Our meeting is almost over, Esther, Syrah,'' she said, much to my relief. ''But there is one more thing I want to ask of you, Esther. Would it be okay if I took your weight and pulse? Just for my own notes. A basic physical

"Alright then.'' I got to my feet while Syrah remained seated. I walked over to Doctor Browning, keeping my head up, showing the confidence I pretended to be feeling. No fear. No trepidation. Inside though I just wanted to get this whole thing over and done with and to pretend that this never even happened.

'Just a few more minutes, Leena,' I told myself. 'Just a few more minutes and all of this will be over. Keep in character, you've been doing so well thus far.' I gave myself the same kind of pep-talk Syrah would have given me. There was a weighing scale situated in the corner of the doctors office. It was the digital kind where you simply step upon it and it tells you both your weight.

''If you would, Esther, please remove your shoes and step up here,'' Cynthia told me. Nodding, I bent down to slip my feet out of my shoes, now clad in just white tights, I stepped up on the scales, which began beeping incessantly as they read my weight and height. The doctor bent down to read the results, taking on a very monotone voice as she did so. ''84 pounds. Very good, Esther. You're a healthy little girl.'' Ha, if only she knew I was 33! I bet she wouldn't be thinking I was 'healthy' in any way, either physically OR mentally. She then proceeded to have me stand against the wall, a height ruler at my side. "4' 10", very good" she noted.

''Now, I'm just going to get my stethoscope so I can take your pulse. Please bear with me for one moment.'' I squatted down to put my shoes back on. Syrah got to her feet, smoothing down her clothing and fixing her hair. She took her place by my side as the doctor turned back to me, a long stethoscope around her neck. Her countenance took a gentle, soft tone as she approached me. ''Okay, Esther. I'm just going to take your pulse now, dear. Then you can go.''

She adjusted the earpieces as she pressed the stethoscope up against my chest. A look of confusion briefly passed over her face. ''Hmm, that's odd,'' she mused, more to herself than me, ''I can't seem to get a pulse.''

Her brow crinkled in confusion. She moved the stethoscope around on my chest, pressing it down harder. Of course, with the gauze wrapped so tightly around my chest, it was close to impossible for her to get a correct heartbeat. Not that she knew this was the case. It felt so incredibly irritating to be poked and prodded at like some damn mannequin in a store.

''Strange.'' The doctor took the stethoscope out of her ears and examined it, ''this normally doesn't happen.'' She sounded rather annoyed by this fact. Like I could care less. Any bit of stress I could cause the bitch was good enough for me. I looked over at Syrah, who was standing a few feet away, her gaze focused on the diplomas hanging on the walls. I wondered if she were impressed by them. I myself thought they looked quite pretentious, as if the stupid doctor was trying to impress those who walked into her office. How pathetic it all seemed.

But I no longer had time to ruminate about that as Cynthia took my hand in hers. ''I'm sorry about that, Esther, I don't know what's wrong with the stethoscope. Anyway,'' she smiled, ''I can get a pulse from your wrist.'' She turned my hand over, and I gave an involuntary wince as the cool edge of the stethoscope was placed on the underside of my wrist. The doctor's brow furrowed as she tried to read my heartbeat.

'What's the big fucking deal? Hurry up!' I grumbled internally as the stethoscope bulged underneath my velvet ribbon. I kept a neutral expression, my gaze resting on the floor as I patiently waited. Or, at least, attempted to 'patiently' wait. God. This all seemed so very unnecessary. 'How the fuck is taking my pulse going to-' my inner thoughts were suddenly interrupted when the clasp on my ribbon unhooked. I watched in shock as, almost in slow-motion, the fabric slipped from my skin and fell to the floor.

My eyes widened in horror, and I instantly dropped down to my knees to retrieve it. Doctor Browning seemed to have the same idea, because she too bent down to pick up the ribbon. As I reached to grab it, her hand shot out and grabbed mine. Oh shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. My scar was open and exposed. I had nothing to hide behind. Dear God, PLEASE tell me this isn't happening!

Syrah let out an audible gasp of horror, balling a fist to her mouth. Doctor Browning seemed almost flabbergasted by the sight as her eyes stared down at the disgusting scar, the mottled criss-crossed markings on my tiny hand. ''NO!'' I shrieked, before I could help myself, wrenching my hand from her grasp and jumping to my feet. I ran towards Syrah and clutched onto her waist, trembling all over.

The doctor stood, a look of sheer confusion and concern painted on her face. I was shaking like an autumn leaf, my teeth chattering, arms wrapped around Syrah's waist. No! NOOO! This couldn't have happened. Wake up, Leena, you're just dreaming! This was ten damn times worse than Syrah blurting out my real name. No, one HUNDRED times worse. I could feel tears sting at the corners of my eyes and couldn't stop them from falling.

''Esther..'' Cynthia started, taking a tentative step in my direction. My whole body was beginning to sweat involuntarily. Syrah kept a protective arm across my chest, drawing me in close to her. The doctor continued to approach. ''Esther, how did you get that scar?'' Like I was going to answer her. My trembling hands gripped the fabric of Syrah's blouse. She ran her fingers through my hair, gently making hushing noises. I could feel my stomach turn just at the sight of the mark on my wrist. Tears plopped onto the floor, my heart beating at an uncontrollable level. For this I had no cover story, what was I to say? How would I explain this?

''Esther?'' the colour drained from Doctor Browning's face. ''What happened to you? How did you get that.. That..'' she couldn't even bring herself to say the word. Her eyes flickered to the ribbon on my neck. ''Is that why you're wearing those ribbons?''

''I.. I.. I..'' I stuttered, body trembling, eyes blurring and stinging with a never ending torrent of tears. It was all over now. My hopes, my dreams, my goals. They were fading right in front of my very eyes. I was scared in a way that was beyond terror. Scared for both myself and my sister. I cuddled into my sister, trying to soak up whatever courage she could muster, but Sy Sy's hands were trembling around me, and I could hear her breathing heavily. "No, no, no!" was all I could keep repeating over and over. Yet another nightmare was quickly becoming a reality.

I felt like I was going to be sick. I could feel the stomach acid beginning the reflux into my throat. The doctor folded her arms across her chest, looking down at me with seemingly unbending, seering eyes.. "Esther.. please take off those other ribbons." She gestured to the velvet fabric around my other wrist, and neck. I shook my head frantically, clutching tighter to Syrah. My tongue was tied for a moment. I felt naked and vulnerable, as helpless as a newborn baby.

"No, no I can't, I c-can't! Please don't make me!" I begged in the most innocent voice I could muster, hoping against hope that my pleas would keep her at bay. Even in my duress I knew it was imperative for me to stay in the role of Esther. Lord only knows what could happen if I broke my act now. "Please, please.." I continued to plead with her, "I don't wanna take them off! Please don't make me!"

Doctor Browning stepped forward, hand outstretched. She caught me by the hand and pulled me away from Syrah, who stood shell-shocked, unable to move, unable to do anything to help me. She was just as shocked by what had happened as I was. The doctor reached out, tugging at the ribbon around my neck. Tears fell from my eyes, streaking down each of my pale cheeks, as she pulled it off, before reaching down to do the same to the ribbon on my left hand.

I felt so disgusting. So ugly, so degraded. Without my ribbons, what could I hide behind? The dress, the make-up, the childish facade? It all felt like a wasted effort now. I wanted to scream out to the heavens, to set this whole fucking office ablaze. To set my wrath fully upon this woman. My gaze lowered to the floor. I just felt so fucking disgusting and ashamed. Every horrid emotion was running through my mind. Leena Klammer was just a breath away it seemed.

Doctor Browning continued speaking, this time directing her questions to my sister. "Syrah, do you have any idea as to how Esther got those scars? These look just absolutely atrocious", she asked. Now I began to fly into even more of a panic. What would Syrah say? How would we get out of this one? How COULD we get out of this? My soul was crying out for vengeance against this doctor. Crying out for me to save myself before it was too late. But there seemed to be no avail to this disaster.

'Deep breaths, Leena, deep breaths, calm down! Come on now, that's enough!' I told myself, knowing I was in danger of having a panic attack if I didn't keep my cool. Easier said than done, mind you. Syrah opened and closed her mouth, trying to speak, but no words came out. "I.. I don't.. I don't know.." she finally managed to splurt between her panicked breaths. She inhaled deeply, and managed to compose herself somewhat but she now looked like a frazzled mess, almost seeming to become caught in this huge web of lies we had been spinning. "I don't know how she got those. I.. I just..never seen them before" Syrah, like me, was at a loss for words that would be adequate enough to placate the doctor.

Doctor Browning looked at me. I could barely even maintain eye-contact with her. Those eyes of hers were so piercing as if they were red hot coals. "Esther, Syrah.. I'm going to have to ask both of you to leave. I need to talk with Kate and John." I should have felt relieved. My first session was over. I should have been happy about this. But instead, all that was going through my mind were thoughts of pure terror, a thousand dreaded what-ifs. What if she tells John and Kate about the scars? Oh God, how that weighed on my mind like a trillion tons! I felt like I was going to have an imminent heart attack. The final nail had been driven into the coffin. I knew I was finished!

Without a word, I stepped forward and extended my hand, palm upwards. "May I please have my ribbons?" I asked. The doctor silently passed them to me and I hurriedly put them back on, securing each one as tightly as I could. Syrah reached out and took my hand in hers. My feet seemed to weigh almost a thousand pounds as she led me towards the door, my shoulders slumped low in total defeat.. The doctor followed us, keeping a close eye on me, I could feel her scrutinizing gaze on the back of my head. Syrah opened the door and the two of us stepped out. ''If you would, Syrah, please let John and Kate know I'm ready for them,'' said Doctor Browning.

''Certainly,'' Syrah responded in a tired voice. She looked down at me. ''Esther, what do you say to Cynthia?'' she asked, her tone taking on that same high-pitch the doctor's had when speaking to me. Once again, I felt shame at hearing my sister talk down to me like this. But I knew she had no choice.

I cracked the best smile I could muster on my porcelain face. ''It was nice talking to you, Cynthia. I hope we can be friends.'' Needless to say, I hoped nothing of the sort. I just wanted to get the fuck out of there as soon as possible, never to see the woman ever again.

''I'd like that,'' she replied. ''You two can sit in the waiting room. Hopefully this won't take long.'' With a curt nod to the psychiatrist, Syrah turned on her heel and began to lead me away. Not a single word was spoken between us. My head was all over the place, each step feeling as though it could be my last. I didn't want to have to face either John or Kate. Especially NOT Kate. I just wanted to hide myself from the world. I felt it would have been better if I had never existed in the first place.

'Get it together, Leena,' I inwardly chastised myself. 'You don't want them to see you've been crying, do you? Remember, you must keep in control. Don't give them any hints to what you're really feeling.' I wiped at my face with my sleeve, taking care not to smudge any of my makeup while doing so. I would likely have to reapply it when I returned home anyways. But do you really think this was my greatest worry? Thought so.

The secretary looked up from her desk as Syrah and I re-entered the waiting room. She gave a nod as we passed her, before turning back and focusing on her work. I barely acknowledged her presence, so engrossed was I in my own turbulent misgivings. John and Kate looked up as Syrah cleared her throat. ''Are you two done already?'' Kate asked, setting aside the copy of Time Magazine she had been reading, and getting to her feet.

''I thought you'd be longer.'' There was an accusing tone to her voice, as if it were OUR fault we weren't as long as she hoped we would be, the stupid whore.

'Believe me, bitch, I don't want to see you either,' I thought, gritting my teeth to the point where it was painful. Syrah kept her hand firmly in mine. ''Yes, Doctor Browning is ready to speak to you two now,'' she said, leading me to the chairs John and Kate had just vacated.

John nodded. He leaned down and gave me a gentle kiss on the forehead. ''We'll be right out, honey,'' was what he told me as he turned and began to trudge down the hall. I could see his injuries were still causing him pain. Is it even necessary for me to say how much guilt I felt over this? John had his own explaining to do when he sat across from Doctor Browning. Could this day possibly get any worse? I knew that it most certainly could.

Kate gave me a sharp look. ''Esther, stay with Syrah,'' she warned emphatically. ''And behave yourself for a change!'' Well, where the fuck else was I going to go? I swear, Kate seemed to think of herself as some sort of damn military sergeant, barking orders left, right and centre. I kept a stoic expression on my face as I sat down, folding my arms neatly. I completely ignored Kate. The less time I had to spend with that whore, the better. Syrah picked up a magazine and began wordlessly flipping through it, no doubt trying to drown out what just happened. Her hands trembled as she held the magazine, her head seemed to shake on her neck. She was so stunned that she might as well have been struck by a bolt of lightning.

Kate gave a look of total contempt to my sister before turning on her heel and following her husband down the hall. Her disrespect of Syrah was really starting to get on my nerves. I could handle her being rude to me, though that pissed me off too, but what had sweet, kind Syrah done to warrant these rude glares, this coldness?

But there was too much on my mind to really focus on Kate at the moment. I looked down at my tiny hands, at the ribbons now once again wrapped tightly around them. I thought of the doctor, of the look on her face when she saw my scar. How she seemed to be judging me, just as so many others had done before her. I knew beyond a doubt she would tell John and Kate about what she had seen. Why wouldn't she? It was too important for her to just brush it under the carpet.

I began rocking back and forth in my seat, continuing to grind my teeth loudly from side to side in my anxious state. There was a buzzing in my head, each sound seemed to be magnified a dozen fold. Syrah. turning the pages of the magazine, still completely at a loss for words and unable to make conversation with me. The secretary tapping on her computer, the ticking of the clock on the wall adjacent to me. I wrung my hands nervously, looking up at the clock as the seconds ticked by. What was Doctor Browning telling John and Kate about me now? About my scars, about how Syrah had called me Leena? I hurriedly jumped to my feet. I had to get out of there. I HAD to. ''Where are you going?'' Syrah asked, looking up from her reading as I hurried past her. Her voice was filled with stress.

''Bathroom,'' I replied. I looked at the secretary, ''Where is your restroom, please?''

''Down the hall. The ladies room is the first door on the right.'' I walked off briskly, trotting along. As I entered the bathroom, I could feel the tears pooling in my eyes again. The scent of disinfectant hung heavy in the air. I hurried into one of the nearby cubicles, slamming the door shut and locking it behind me. I sat down on the cold tile floor, my back against the wall, knees drawn up to my chest in a fetal position.

My heart beat with such uncontrollable vigor I felt as though it would explode like a shotgun within my chest. Could I not just have a fucking moment of peace for once in my life? Why, WHY did everything have to be so damn difficult for me? It felt as though the weight of the whole world had been placed upon my little shoulders. This tiny cubicle, it felt like a prison cell to me. Like the cell I had been trapped in during my six years at Saarne. The whole world seemed like a ravenous animal that was closing in on me for the kill. WHY? WHY? WHY? I had felt so cheated in life, so neglected. And here I was on a filthy bathroom floor, unsure of what to do next.

The walls, they may as well have been padded. The cotton fabric of my dress, the velvet ribbons, that may as well have been a straitjacket. I was trapped in another nightmare, another hell that I had once again managed to create for myself. 'So stupid, stupid, STUPID!' I angrily thought, rocking back and forth.

I could feel myself start dry-heaving, and I began to splutter, tears of shame, rage and anxiety pouring down my face, a never ending waterfall. Doctor Browning was probably telling Kate and John all of my sordid little secrets. It was over for me, I just KNEW IT. Over for me, over for Syrah. My life was just a big mess yet again. A million dreaded questions continued to rush through my mind like an F5 tornado but all without a single answer.

Would I be found out? Would I have to kill again to protect myself? Would there be a repeat of the Sullivan's? What would be the final fate of my sister and I? Should I just commit suicide and end it all? Why bother any further? Is this the totality of my wretched existence on this planet?

No. NO. I could not think like this. There was too much at stake. My John, my Max, my Syrah. They needed me to be strong for them. I HAD to be there! But yet I couldn't shake the feeling inside me. The despair and worry clawing its way to the surface. I tried to bring myself some level of reassurance. ''She didn't see. She doesn't know,'' I mumbled under my breath, voice shaking, rocking myself back and forth. Angrily, I slammed my head back, feeling a sharp pain shoot up from my skull as it connected with the cubicle wall. ''She's so STUPID!'' I growled.

I kicked the cubicle wall in front of me, ignoring the sharp pain that it caused in my feet. My voice, which had started as a low growl, now turned into a furious snarl. Every bone in my body was now going into defence mode, fight mode, as I rose to my feet, teeth gnashing. I felt anger overtaking me. Anger at myself, for allowing things to get to this point. Anger at Kate, for dragging me here to start with. Anger at the doctor for prying. Even, dare I say it, anger at my precious Syrah for her careless mistakes. Whatever self-control I had left seemed to be melting away like a candle thrown into a fire.

A fierce, unbridled scream ripped its way from my throat as I began pounding my fists against the walls, stamping my feet on the ground like a spoiled child. All of my pent up rage spilling out of me like blood from an open wound, heart beating like a hammer against cloth, sweat caressing my brow. I slammed my fists onto the walls. ''Stupid, stupid, STUPID!'' I screamed. My throat was burning but I just didn't care. Oh, how I wished I could take a knife to that DAMN Doctor Browning, cut her fucking vocal chords out. THEN I wouldn't have to worry about her poking her fucking nose where it doesn't belong ever again.

"She thinks she knows everything, she doesn't know SHIT!" With this, I threw my head back and let out an animalistic scream.

'Is everything okay in there?" came a startled voice from outside the cubicle. I froze. From her voice, I could tell it was the secretary I had encountered in the waiting room. 'You're such a fucking IDIOT, Leena Klammer,' I thought vehemently, 'NOW look what you've done?' In a fit of self-rage, I kicked at the toilet paper, knocking it from the wall and sending another wave of pain shooting up my leg. "Little girl?" the secretary asked again, concern evident in her voice, "um.. Esther, is it? Is everything okay in there? I heard alot of commotion. Do you want me to get someone for you?"

There was confusion and worry within her voice. If I heard someone shrieking and yelling the way I had been, I wouldn't know what to do either. But the rage and terror was still simmering just under the surface. I collapsed to my knees, hugging myself around the middle as I let the tears fall yet again. Why, WHY had everything gone so terribly wrong? Why couldn't I ever just use my fucking brain? Everythis that had happened these last few days. Just everything was of my doing. And to think that this all started over a fucking photo of a woman whom I didn't even know? I couldn't chastise myself enough. There were no words harsh enough to describe just how I was feeling about myself.

I was cut off from my morose lamentations when the bathroom door opened yet again, and a familiar Estonian accent filled the room. "Is everything okay in here?" Syrah asked. I began sobbing again upon hearing her voice, upon realising just how much things had been fucked up for us both. If there ever was a time where I needed her, it was definately now.

"Miss Ivanovitch," I heard the secretary say, "can you please get your sister to come out? She's been screaming and crying in that stall for I don't know how long. She won't talk to me or tell me what's wrong. The poor little thing." The woman, distressed by my behavior, sounded as if she was about to cry at any moment. I had to have filled her with worry for the poor, pathetic little girl sobbing her eyes out in the bathroom stall. Did I give two shits about her empathy? Well, what do you think?

Syrah knocked softly upon the door. "Esther?" she asked softly. "Esther, honey, can you hear me? Is everything alright, sister? Can you hear me?" Her concern really showed in her voice. I buried my head in my hands and continued to cry loudly. "It's okay, sweetie, your big sister's here now. Syrah's here. Come on out." Yes, she was talking to me like I was a little girl, but I could still feel every bit of worry that she really DID feel for me.

"S-Syrah," I whimpered. "Sister...oh my God! What just happened?"

Syrah addressed the secretary. "If you don't mind, may my sister and I be left alone? We need to talk in private. Don't worry, I have this all under control. Trust me on that. I'll handle this."

"Oh.. o-of course. No problem." As soon as she left, my sister switched from speaking in English to speaking in Estonian.

"Leena, come on out, honey. Nobody else is here, I promise. Come out and talk to me. I really need to have a word with you. Please let me help you. Please let me make this all better" she pleaded. I hesitated for a moment, before reaching up a shivering hand to unlock the door and taking a first cautious step outside. I felt so small, so belittled and dejected. I couldn't even meet my sister's gaze without wanting to break down into a fit. Syrah put her hand under my chin and lifted it so I was looking into her eyes. "Leena, what was that about?" she asked, a little sterner than I would have liked from her. I didn't answer. Didn't, or couldn't. To this day I'm not sure which. Syrah placed her hands on my shoulders, tilting her head back as she exhaled. "Leena, come on now. Talk to me. What are you doing throwing a tantrum like this? I know you're upset. I know you're overwhelmed, that makes two of us."

My clenched fists trembled by my sides. I was oblivious to the burning fire rising within me, Syrah continued to admonish me. "Leena, I'll ask you again. What were you doing? Do you really think kicking and screaming like this is going to solve ANYTHING? Come on now, you know better than this." I grimaced, narrowing my eyes darkly at her. How dare she stand there LECTURING me? After she had slipped up twice?

"I know better than this?" I shot back. "Well, sister, you certainly knew better than to go around calling me Leena, but you did that anyway, didn't you?" A blush formed over Syrah's cheeks, highlighting her embarrassment. I brushed her hands off of my shoulders, causing her to take a step back.

"I'm sorry about that, Leena," she said. "Really, I am. I was nervous and, God damn it, it was a slip of the tongue. Nothing more, nothing less. You know I would never intentionally do anything to cause you ANY sort of harm. I apologise for slipping up like I did. Come on now, you forgive me, right? Can't we put that behind us?"

But I wasn't about to let this go just yet. "You didn't just slip up once though, did you, Syrah? You managed to fuck up twice! Saying we were from Estonia, what the HELL were you thinking? These doctors, they're trained to spot out lies!" My voice was still sore from my little episode in the bathroom cubicle. "Is it THAT difficult to just tell a fucking LIE?" I seethed. My sister looked hurt by my harsh words. I almost felt a pang of guilt for how I was speaking to her.

Yet Syrah was not one to be disrespected easily. She sharply pointed a finger in my face. "Don't you start with me, Leena. Yes, I made a mistake, and I apologised to you for what I did. But don't you dare start trying to blame me for everything. You hear? I won't stand here and be spoken to like this. You will NOT try to blame me for this. It was YOUR behavior that got you in front of the doctor to begin with, some nerve you have. It always has to be someone ELSES fault, does it? Because everyone knows that you're completely blameless. I won't take those kind of accusations. I don't deserve it and I won't tolerate it, you better get that through your thick skull!"

I drew myself up to my fullest height (which wasn't much, mind you) and glowered up at my sister. "Everything, Syrah, EVERYTHING is in shit now! Everything's just a damn mess. I mean, you slip up, she takes my ribbons off. What the fuck are we supposed to do now? Yeah, we'll have it real well if we run off now, will we? Does the appeal to you? Going on the run? What if this gets worse? What if the police come? That doctor has more power than you think." Was Syrah going to consider anything that I had to say?

"We'll get through this, Leena. You think I'm not just as scared as you are over all of this? Believe me, this is NOT how I wanted today to go for you. For either of us. But lashing out and arguing over it is not going to help our case, is it?" She was right, as she so often is. The logical, intelligent part of me knew it was wrong to be so angry with my big sister over something that was now outside of our control. That it was not HER fault everything had gotten so fucked up. But I was not listening to my rational side as I once again lashed out at my sister.

"Next time Doctor Browning asks to talk to you, Syrah, just keep your DAMN mouth shut!" I brooded in rage, nostrils flaring, feeling my face warm up as it flushed red. Syrah took a step back, shocked by the harshness of my words. Her eyes became glassy, her hands balled up into two tight fists as mine had. She held up her hand as if she were about to smack the shit out of me. I turned away from her, crossing my arms over my chest and slumping my shoulders.

Syrah reached out and grabbed my shoulder, turning me around to face her. The cold, stern look on her face at that moment was a total contrast to how sweet and gentle she normally presented herself. As she glared down at me, I honestly felt a shiver run through me, a tinge of fear. "So this is all MY fault, is it?" she asked sarcastically. "It's all MY fault we're in this situation right now?" Once again, she jabbed a finger in my face. "Leena, you and I both know the REAL reason we even had to come to this place, don't we?"

I nodded, not wanting to throw any more fuel on the fire. Syrah continued to chastise me. "Leena, if I could do this day over again, you know I would. But it's not right to stand here and blame me for everything. Take some damn responsibility for your own actions for a change. Why not just give me the benefit of the doubt, damn it. Can't you see? You have a part to play in this as well and you know it. But I'm not going to stand here and pass any kind of judgement on you but I'm sure as hell am not going to stand here and take anymore crap from you, is that understood? If we're going to get through this then we need to do it together, my Klam Klam, not apart. Now I know we're in hot water right now. You can choose to act like a damn animal that needs to be put down or we can try to solve this problem rationally, together."

I was quick to absorb her reasoning. "You're right, Syrah," I sniffled, reaching out to take her hand in mine. "I'm sorry for being so.. for being so rude to you. I'm a piece of shit for that. I just...I just feel like I'm spinning out of control. That I'm coming apart into pieces and that theres no way to stop any of this." I threw my hands up at my sides in frustration, letting them fall down limply. "We're fucked...it's just as simple as that. We're fucked!" I brooded. "No we're not, stop being so negative about this", Syrah said in chastisement.

Her expression returned to it's gentle countenance once again as she reached out and pulled me into an embrace. She stroked the back of my hair, which had now become messy and unkept. "Everything is going to be fine, sister. I promise you." But there was something in her voice. I could sense it, could tell she wasn't convinced by her own words. "Now, come on, Leena. Let's get back into that waiting room before anyone else wonders where we've gone. We don't want Kate getting upset again and I don't need you getting upset, either. The therapy session is over now and we'll be back at the house soon enough."

I nodded. "Okay, then." I took Syrah's hand as she led me out of the bathroom. My tears were already beginning to dry upon my cheeks. Syrah was once again giving me some level strength and courage by just being near, the security I needed. Gently, she reached out and wiped the last remaining tears from my face with the cuff of her sleeve. As we entered the hallway, I could hear voices coming from the doctor's office. One of which I instantly recognised as Kate's. And my God did she sound angry. She was so loud, her voice carried all the way down the hall. I wanted to piss myself. What was making her so enraged? I could only fear for the worst.

Still, I needed to know more. I had to hear this conversation. To know exactly what was being said in there. Dropping Syrah's hand, I hurried towards the doctor's office. Syrah was quick to chase after me. "Leena!" she called. "Leena, what are you doing? Come back this instant!"

I didn't even turn around as I answered her. "I have to hear this, Syrah. I need to know what they're talking about. I know it's about me so that makes it MY business" Slowing down as I neared the closed door, the voices began to grow louder. I could instantly recognise the doctor's. She was trying to keep calm, measuring her words carefully.

"I'm not trying to accuse you of anything, Kate, and I'm not trying to pass the buck on you. All I'm asking is if you've been drinking. I can smell alcohol on your breath. It would do you good to be honest with me. Now it's perfectly okay to admit that you have relapsed again. How much have you had to drink this morning?"

Kate raised her voice in her anger, being so loud that she made me jump. "NO! No, for the love of GOD, I haven't been drinking! GODDAMN IT! Why won't you believe me? Why the hell am I the one being accused? I thought this was ESTHER'S therapy session, not mine! What the hell has she been telling you? What has that little brat been saying?"

I puckered my lips, placing the palm of my hand against the door as I listened intently, my ear pressed tight against it. The doctor's next question nearly floored me. "Kate, I'm just going to ask you straight out. Have you ever taken any of your problems, your anger, your alcoholism, out on ANY of the children? And this includes Esther. Kate, I have to admit, I'm having a hard time believing your husband here was beaten up by a neighbor. I have my reservations. I have my doubts. I know what you can be capable of when you're drinking."

Once again, Kate raised her voice. "No. I have never hurt any of my children. Esther included. What kind of a mother do you think I am? How DARE you accuse me of such a thing! You can think what you want about my husband but I have NEVER raised a finger to any of my kids." There was so much emotional strain in her voice. 'Did you forget about beating my ass with your belt, you dumb woman?' I thought. Syrah looked about as shocked as I felt. She leaned over to whisper in my ear.

"Esther, it's not going to do any good to stand and listen in. Let's go back to the waiting room. If they catch us out here.. I don't even want to think about that!" She put an arm around my shoulders. "Come on. It won't be long before they're done and we can go home."

"But...but the ribbons! I know the doctor is going to bring that up" I lamented. Syrah became more demanding. "Leena, right now!" She pointed her finger down the hallway. "Yeah, you're right." I resigned myself to my sister's will. My curiosity still remaining peaked as she led me back to the waiting room. I was numb in mind, body and spirit. Syrah cuddled me in close to her as she had before. She was the only true source of comfort I had in this world. Nobody could ever understand Leena Klammer like she did.

We re-entered the waiting room and I once again sat down with a thud. The secretary looked at me but didn't say another word about the incident in the bathroom. She knew it better than to press the issue any further. Syrah took her place next to me. I leaned my head against her shoulder and she gently kissed the side of my head.

"You're a strong woman, Leena. Don't ever forget that. But it's becoming really hard to keep covering for you. You need to stop creating these kind of situations for us" she whispered in Estonian, her breath tickling my ear. I continued to stare straight ahead, hardly even paying attention to my sister. My gaze was focused on the long, desolate hallway that led to the doctor's office. Now I could barely make out any of the conversation. Was the doctor scolding Kate again? Did she know of how I had been beaten with that belt, of how Syrah had been spat on? What I wouldnt give to be a fly on the wall in THAT conversation.

I picked up a magazine and began to look through it, not even paying all that much attention to the articles inside. After another five, painful minutes of waiting, Syrah gently nudged on my shoulder. I turned. "What?"

"John and Kate are coming." I looked up. Sure enough, my "parents" were now approaching. As they neared us, I could feel the tension between them both. Kate folded her arms across her chest, wrinkling up her nose, staring down at me as though I were something unpleasant she had found under her shoe. Believe me, the feeling was mutual. I was the source of alot of bitter feelings, that's for sure.

"Let's go," was all this sordid excuse for a mother said as she brushed past Syrah and I without another word. Each time she barked an order at us it really grated on my nerves. 'So disrespectful... she better not speak to MY Max like this,' I thought. Slowly, I got to my feet, pulling my coat on and doing up the buttons. I was just beginning to follow John and Kate to the door, when I heard a voice call me back.

"Esther? Esther, wait one moment!" It was Cynthia. 'Now what does she want?' It took all of my inner strength not to scream at her to fuck off. She came towards me, a concerned look on her face. "May I speak with you in private for a moment?"

"Must you?" Kate voiced what I was thinking. The doctor nodded. I dared not to take another step forward. I simply wanted to go home and sulk for the rest of the day.

"It won't take a minute. Esther, if you will… " She gestured for me to follow her. Could this day not just be over? I kept my head down as I traipsed along after her. She stopped a few feet from her office, arms folded across her chest. "Esther, look at me please." With a heavy heart, I raised my head to meet her gaze, something that filled me with a deathly dread. "Now Esther, I've received word from my secretary that you seemed very upset earlier in the bathroom..."

That fucking secretary told! How dare she? Could she not keep her nose OUT of my business? "I-I..." I started, feeling a pink blush paint my cheeks.

"I'm just really worried about you. We've just met and I really mean that. Is everything REALLY okay at home? Mommy and daddy, they've never been mean to you, have they? Have they ever did anything mean or cruel to you? I just don't like how your mother was behaving." She gave a pointed look to my wrists. Was she accusing the Coleman's of abusing me? I knew I had to deny this. After all, I certainly didn't want my John to get into any sort of trouble. And I certainly DID NOT want the police or anyone else to suddenly become involved.

"No, I swear my mommy and daddy are really nice to me. They've never been mean to me at all. They love me a lot. Why would you say something like that?" I said sweetly.

"Are you sure?" She didn't sound at all convinced. "If there's anything you need to talk about, you can tell me. You can trust me, Esther. There had to be a reason why you got so upset.."

"Well..." I trailed off. I suddenly realised that I could easily land Kate in some hot water. "It's just.. Mommy is so angry and sad lately. She's always yelling at daddy over something. It makes me sad whenever I see them fighting. But I don't want to say anything, I don't want my mommy and daddy to worry about me. I just want my mommy to be happy again. I'm real sorry I was so upset, doctor. I just.. Sometimes I feel like I have to keep all my emotions to myself."

"Has your mother ever.. Has she ever laid a hand on you? Ever hit you or anything?" I shook my head.

"No, no she hasn't." I knew if I admitted to being whipped, I could find myself out of the house and in the dreaded custody of the state foster care system.

Cynthia surveyed me for an agonisingly long minute before nodding. "Okay, Esther. Thank you. You can go now, sweetheart. Have a pleasant day and try to feel better."

Nodding my thanks, I turned and made my way outside to where the Colemans and my sister were waiting for me. "What did she want?" Kate barked.

"Just to talk, mommy. That's all. Can we go home now? I'm real tired."

"I bet you're beat, honey," John gave me a sympathetic smile as we approached the car. "And I'm very proud of you, you know that?" I noted he didn't include Kate in this statement. Into the back seat once again, I did up my seat belt and waited as Kate revved up the engine. Syrah was staying quiet, she knew better than to speak up after having been so rudely chastised by Kate earlier. The drive home was a tense one, not a single word spoken between any of us. Kate kept a death grip on the steering wheel, eyes staring straight ahead in intense focus. The nervous flutter in my stomach hadn't let up at all. I leaned my chin on my palm, looking out the window at the people outside as we passed them. The happy families, the loving couples walking through the nearby park even on this blustery winter's day. Each of them looked so content, each of them having a reason for being. A reason for really living. I envied every one of them.

Why couldn't I find such peace? I ruminated over the unfairness of this as we pulled up to the house. 'Finally.. home..' I thought as the car rolled to a stop. I unbuckled my seatbelt, feeling once again as though the weight of the whole world was still resting upon my tired body. Kate got out of the car, kicking the door shut behind her as she stormed into the house. Syrah and I both looked at each other, but knew it better than to comment. With a frustrated sigh, John got out of the car and followed his wife into the house. "That woman", he mumbled. Syrah and I followed close behind.

As soon as we entered our 'home' I began to make my way upstairs. "Where are you going?" Kate snapped in her shrill, aggravated voice. I had to resist the urge to roll my eyes as I faced her.

"I'm gonna go lie down for a bit, mommy. I'm really tired. Please, if I may." I didn't even bother to wait for her answer as I made my way up to my bedroom. I didn't need that bitch's approval to do ANYTHING. I closed the door gently, tossed the childish toys on my bed onto the floor, and laid down, curling into a tight ball. I stopped thinking. I was too stunned to think anymore. My brain felt fried. I felt as if the very life had drained out of me. I felt my eyes grow heavy and listless.. So tired... just so, so tired..

The nightmare I am about to write about is, quite possibly, the most terrifying one I have ever experienced. Even now, as I sit here, pen shaking in my hand, I almost don't want to bring myself to write it down, but I know that I must. Perhaps if I write it down it will no longer have the power to torment me...

The dream began joyfully enough. I skipped happily downstairs, ready to spend the day playing with my sweet daughter. Max sat upon a bean bag, colouring pad and crayons in her lap, tongue sticking out in concentration as she drew what looked to be another picture of the two of us. 'So talented.. she'll give her mommy a run for her money when she gets older,' I thought fondly. Of course, 'mommy' was referring to me, not Kate. As I neared the bottom step, the doorbell suddenly rang, startling me slightly. 'Probably just the postman or something,' I thought.

"I'll get it!" I chirped. Kate looked up from her place on the couch but didn't say a word, pushing her reading glasses up her nose as she went back to her book. Something inside me was telling me not to open the door. Call it intuition or whatever you will, but I knew something was wrong. I reached up to undo the latch on the door and what I saw next shocked me. There, arms folded coldly across her chest, stood Sister Abigail, the nun from St. Mariana's.

The cheerful, innocent smile on my face instantly changed into a look of disdain as I came face to face with a woman I thought I had left behind me. I could feel a shiver run through my entire body. "W-what are you doing here?" I asked innocently, noting how my Estonian accent seemed more subdued than usual.

Sister Abigail stared down at me. The look in her eyes was terrifying. She reached out and grabbed my wrist, pulling me closer to her. "I think you need to come with me, don't you..." She put her mouth close to my ear, "Leena Klammer?"

My eyes widened. I managed to wrangle myself from her iron grip as I let out a shocked, breathless gasp. "No, no, no.. this can't be happening!" I repeated over and over, tripping over myself as I staggered backwards into the house. Sister Abigail chased after me, arms reaching out like gnarled branches, face contorted in a furious rage. "Please, please.. no!" I screamed to the heavens. Kate glanced over casually but did nothing, as if this were a normal sight for her.

Abigail continued her unrelenting approach, seeming to be inhumanly fast. I spotted my sister in the kitchen and made my way to her. "Syrah! Syrah, please help me! HELP ME! She's out to get me! SHE'S FUCKING HERE!" I shrieked, clutching onto her. I was shaking, tears streaming down my face. I could feel my make-up begin to run, a part of Esther that was literally pouring right off of me. "What.. what's going on?" Syrah sounded as terrified as I was. "What is this? For heaven's sake!"

But I couldn't even answer her as our attention was directed to a mist coming from the heating vent. It surrounded us both, a black mist that obscured our vision, causing me to cough and splutter uncontrollably as it filled my nostrils with the sickly scent of decaying flesh. A high pitched scream escaped my lips as I felt something dragging me away from my sister. I glided along the floor as I felt an invisible force drag me along, absolutely determined to take me away. "Syrah! Syrah, please! SYRAHHHH! Please, do something NOW!" As the mist cleared, I turned my head to come face to face with the man who haunted my nightmares every night, the man who had locked me up for six years of my life. Dr. Varava.

I twisted in his firm grip, writhing like a fish caught on a line. "LET GO OF ME, GODDAMN YOU! JUST LET GO! I'LL FUCKING KILL YOU! YOU MOTHERFUCKING SON OF A BITCH! I'LL KILL YOUUUUUU" I spat violently in his face as I continued to struggle, knowing that my life depended on it.

"You little, bitch!" he snarled, raising his hand and bringing it down upon my cheek. I felt my knees buckle as I collapsed into a heap on the floor. Dr. Varava grabbed my arm and tried to haul me to my feet. "Get up, little whore. It's time for you to DIE!"

"LEAVE ME ALONE! PLEASEEEEEE!" I kicked and struggled as I was dragged along with what little strength I had left. Tears saturated my face, dribbling down my cheeks, nose running, heart seeming to have stopped in my chest. I saw John coming out of his office and began to cry out to him. "Daddy! DADDY, HELP ME! PLEASE, DADDY!" My pleas were being heard by nobody.

He silenced my screams with another sharp slap to my face. "Don't you call me that! You're no daughter of mine! How could you ever think I would love you? How could I ever have left an escaped mental patient into my home? A sociopath? A demon from hell?" I cried bitterly as the man who should have been my one true lover turned his back on me. "Take her out of my sight, doctor." I was aghast! "This isn't happening. Oh, good God this isn't happening!"

"John, please! Please, I love you! Don't let them take me! PLEASE! I'm supposed to be yours, damn it. We have a life together! John, please, I beg of you!" But he would not come to my aid. Dr. Varava continued to haul me towards the door, my throat hoarse from screaming, no strength in my tired body to fight back. I could hear a car's engine outside. As we stepped out into the brisk coldness, I was absolutely horrified by what I saw awaiting me.

A black hearse waited in the driveway, the back door opened, ready to take me away. "NOOOO!" I sobbed uncontrollably, wretching and gagging as the doctor picked me up in his iron grip. "PLEASE, GOD! SOMEONE HELP!" I felt myself go limp as Sister Abigail and Dr. Varava each grabbed one of my arms and tossed me into an open coffin.

Trembling in pure terror, I looked down, feeling my straight jacket begin to tighten around me, cutting off my air supply, digging into my skin. I tried to beg, to plead once more for mercy, but the words would not come to me.

"Sister!" Syrah cried in desperation as she came running out of the house. "LEENA! LEENA!"

I found my voice yet again. "Syrah, help me! DON'T LET THEM HURT ME! PLEASE, SYRAH! DON'T YOU LOVE ME? DON'T YOU CARE ABOUT ME? " Abigail clamped a hand down over my mouth, preventing me from calling out any further. As I lay sobbing in the coffin, I could see my sister standing frozen in place. It was over.. this was it. Dr. Varava loomed over me, his face contorted in maniacal laughter, a cruel, callous look in his cold eyes. There was simply no logic to this madness.

"Hold her still.." he barked to Abigail, who willingly obliged. A searing pain shot through my entire body. I shrieked in absolute terror as the doctor's hands tore right through skin, bone and muscle alike as if he were an animal tearing apart it's kill. 'This can't be happening.. this CAN'T BE HAPPENING! Wake up, Leena, WAKE THE FUCK UP!' I told myself over and over to come to my senses, that reality can't possibly be this cruel. Syrah had collapsed to her knees, crying as she extended an arm towards me in final desperation. My throat constricted, each muscle in my body had become too tensed to move. Dr. Varava pulled back, a triumphant, smug look on his face. He sneered down at me. My eyes almost bulged out of their sockets as I caught sight of the bloody, pulsing object in the doctor's hand. My heart...

In the next chapter, Leena awakes from her disturbing dream, but when Kate receives an urgent phone call, Leena comes to the realization that she is about to fight a real life nightmare. Thanks again to NoComparison for her dedication and talent, it is VERY much appreciated! Please review and subscribe :D