Chapter One:
How It All Started.
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I'd been watching a spider for over an hour before Dr. Shiiro arrived. It wasn't boring, just very slow. I found the web immediately after the lady told me to 'sit tight' and wait for my therapist to be with me. She said it'd only be a few moments. When it became more then a few moments, I didn't mind. I was happy to sit here and watch the spider contribute to its web. The spider was odd, however. It wasn't your average daddy long legs. It was white and short-legged. I'd never seen a spider like that, but I wasn't scared.
There are scarier things out there. Way scarier.
While I was waiting, I became amused by how easily and quickly the spider moved through the sticky web, without a fear of getting stuck. By the time the spider completed its trap, Dr. Shiiro walked in. I knew he was here before he actually greeted me; the sounds of the door opening and closing alerted me. Dr. Shiiro sat down in front of his desk and folded his hands in front of him, leaning towards me. He's an old man with graying hair and a few extra pounds, so I like to think his name fits him. He greets me and I acknowledge it with a nod of my head. I'm never in a talkative mood. My arms hurt, especially my wrists.
He asks me how my day's going. I shrug in response. Dr. Shiiro has been my therapist for nearly two months and he hasn't gotten any further in 'correcting' me. He once told me it was perfectly normal, that sometimes people need years of therapy to get better. I couldn't understand what he meant by getting 'better'. I'm not retarded or ill and I'm certainly not crazy, but apparently since foster care sent me to his office, there has to be something wrong with me.
There's the problem. They think it's me that's messed up. Well, they're wrong, to put it bluntly.
Of course, when you happen to look almost exactly like the culprit, it's hard to explain how it couldn't be you. I hadn't protested when foster care scheduled me for three sessions a week at Dr. Shiiro's. I guess it's because I liked coming here.
I figure I'm safer here at Dr. Shiiro's than back there in foster care main central. It's just like an orphanage, though probably more crowded. I often wonder why foster care keeps sending me to Dr. Shiiro's if I'm apparently 'not making progress'. Perhaps it's because he's requesting they do so. Perhaps I really do have issues. Though I'm not the one giving myself these scars. It's not my fault that I have spasms of paranoia or that I have insomnia, or even that I faint out of nowhere. None of it was my idea.
However, nobody can see that. I doubt anybody ever will. I haven't told anyone and they obviously won't figure it out themselves. I hadn't expected a miracle by coming to Dr. Shiiro's anyway.
I suddenly notice Dr. Shiiro's begun to talk about a place he wants me to go. At least for a week, he says. If I like it, good, then I can stay as long as needed. IF I didn't, well, they'd just find something else that will work for me.
The latter meant they'd get frustrated and pack me into group therapy for the next two months. Dr. Shiiro explained he'd sent many of his more intriguing cases (what a nice way to say his more impossible cases) to this place and that it had helped. The overnight stays appeal to me. It means I don't have to go back to foster care central. I'd be away from him. From my other half…
Immediately I agree to go. Dr. Shiiro seems pleased. He tells me that I leave tomorrow, so I'd better pack my things today. He even says he'll drive me there himself, and it makes me feel a little happier. Although I've rarely spoken more then a few sentences in our sessions, I like Dr. Shiiro. He's very king and patient and he's never raised his voice to me. When Dr. Shiiro tells me our session is over for the day, I'm disappointed. I didn't get to tell him that I have a few new scars to show him. Or that he has a spider web at his window and it'll soon be devouring innocent flies.
Then again, as I think about it, I decide he probably wouldn't care.
