Author's Notes: So sorry I haven't posted lately. I've been having writers
block and yes it is very cruel to writers. I haven't had ideas for some
time. And I thought of this idea and how humorous it would be (to me that
is).
Chapter Eight
You know. Those things they poked into me was cruel, all those medicines that tasted horrible. All this was what I thought was cruelty. But this situation was the thing that made be cringe. It was insulting to my pride! How could they ever do something like this to me?
"So Dallas Winston, is it?" The man asked in a monotone looking up from his papers above his bifocal glasses. Studying me for a moment his lips frowned a little then went to the plain line.
"You have the papers in front of you don't you?" I asked rudely as I frowned as well as I studied him. So you know this was my psychiatrist. Yeah a psychiatrist, someone who listened to all you're rants and just said soothing things. Jesus Christ.
"Now there's no need for an attitude Mr. Winston," He said with a little shake of his balding head. "An attitude won't help you're situation like this. An attitude will only make things worst. What you need is peace and happiness."
Mr. Winston? What the hell? No one called me that all except for this one fuzz but I think he retired.I was too much for him. My lips curled to a cruel smile. "But an attitude will get rid of you."
"Come now! Don't speak with such hatred." The man sounded insulted that I had insulted him or something. I was only beginning, really. No damn shrink was going to tell me that about peace and happiness.
"Is that an order? If so I think I'll break that order," I replied with that cruel smile growing more amused. I just watched him with what others would call a "dangerous" smile.
"Ahem. Now let's start from the beginning. Where are you from?" The man changed the subject after clearing his throat closing the folder and folding his chubby hands neatly on his lap. "New York, the rough side." I said leaning back folding my arms boredly. All ready this line of questions was getting boring. Damn these neat white rooms that were overly cramp.
"Now what about you're family?" He asked taking notes on that then returned his boring gaze on me. He all ready hated me, I knew it and I was proud of it.
"My old man is bastard and a jack ass," I answered again in a bored drawl as I yawned loudly as I returned my gaze to him as he took note on this again and then looked at the poster of the skeleton again.
"I see.why is he a.bad father?" He asked avoiding repeating what I had said about my old man. Taking note on this with his bushy eyebrows raised then returned to my gaze.
"Do I need reasons to hate him?" I asked with a little grim laughter at his question and his dodgy ness to my 'horrible' words. I had a bad mouth when it came down to cussing and damn right I was proud of it.
"That might help, Mr. Winston. The more attitude you give the longer I'll have to be talking to you," He said again as he took notes again. Probably something about my badass attitude.
"Then we're going to be here for a while won't we?" I asked him another dangerous smile growing my face as I leaned forward now. My tone was growing soft and calm; it was this time when most ran away.
"Yes we will." He said sourly as he took some other notes sometimes as he would glance at me acidly. "Now. It was you're friend that died, wasn't it?" He asked clearing his voice again.
"That's none of you're damn business." I growled at him as I looked at the door, and then stared icily at him. "Whatever shit is in my life isn't any of you're fucking business."
"But I can help you," He argued frowning again watching me with that same acid look. "Angry young men like you deserve someone to talk to. And maybe there just might be a chance I can get through to you."
"I'd love to see you try." I said shortly feeling my blood boil more now. Damn he was pissing me off. Jesus Christ, he was one of those that were so sure that he could help others. When I doubt he even helped anyone at all.
"You'll be seeing more of me later on, Mr. Winston." He said standing up. "The nurse will tell you when you're next appointment in me is. We just might become good friends."
I growled again as a nurse came in, flipping him off I was willing to let the nurse get me out of that place. Even if it was going to my hospital room which I didn't really like much.
I don't get it. I don't get why everyone was so sure that they could help me. Why did they even care in the first place? It wasn't in their interest to care about a hoodlum like be that picked up girls and did very bad things. It was in their interest to care about a hoodlum who fought to blow off steam. Why did they even bother in the first place?
Chapter Eight
You know. Those things they poked into me was cruel, all those medicines that tasted horrible. All this was what I thought was cruelty. But this situation was the thing that made be cringe. It was insulting to my pride! How could they ever do something like this to me?
"So Dallas Winston, is it?" The man asked in a monotone looking up from his papers above his bifocal glasses. Studying me for a moment his lips frowned a little then went to the plain line.
"You have the papers in front of you don't you?" I asked rudely as I frowned as well as I studied him. So you know this was my psychiatrist. Yeah a psychiatrist, someone who listened to all you're rants and just said soothing things. Jesus Christ.
"Now there's no need for an attitude Mr. Winston," He said with a little shake of his balding head. "An attitude won't help you're situation like this. An attitude will only make things worst. What you need is peace and happiness."
Mr. Winston? What the hell? No one called me that all except for this one fuzz but I think he retired.I was too much for him. My lips curled to a cruel smile. "But an attitude will get rid of you."
"Come now! Don't speak with such hatred." The man sounded insulted that I had insulted him or something. I was only beginning, really. No damn shrink was going to tell me that about peace and happiness.
"Is that an order? If so I think I'll break that order," I replied with that cruel smile growing more amused. I just watched him with what others would call a "dangerous" smile.
"Ahem. Now let's start from the beginning. Where are you from?" The man changed the subject after clearing his throat closing the folder and folding his chubby hands neatly on his lap. "New York, the rough side." I said leaning back folding my arms boredly. All ready this line of questions was getting boring. Damn these neat white rooms that were overly cramp.
"Now what about you're family?" He asked taking notes on that then returned his boring gaze on me. He all ready hated me, I knew it and I was proud of it.
"My old man is bastard and a jack ass," I answered again in a bored drawl as I yawned loudly as I returned my gaze to him as he took note on this again and then looked at the poster of the skeleton again.
"I see.why is he a.bad father?" He asked avoiding repeating what I had said about my old man. Taking note on this with his bushy eyebrows raised then returned to my gaze.
"Do I need reasons to hate him?" I asked with a little grim laughter at his question and his dodgy ness to my 'horrible' words. I had a bad mouth when it came down to cussing and damn right I was proud of it.
"That might help, Mr. Winston. The more attitude you give the longer I'll have to be talking to you," He said again as he took notes again. Probably something about my badass attitude.
"Then we're going to be here for a while won't we?" I asked him another dangerous smile growing my face as I leaned forward now. My tone was growing soft and calm; it was this time when most ran away.
"Yes we will." He said sourly as he took some other notes sometimes as he would glance at me acidly. "Now. It was you're friend that died, wasn't it?" He asked clearing his voice again.
"That's none of you're damn business." I growled at him as I looked at the door, and then stared icily at him. "Whatever shit is in my life isn't any of you're fucking business."
"But I can help you," He argued frowning again watching me with that same acid look. "Angry young men like you deserve someone to talk to. And maybe there just might be a chance I can get through to you."
"I'd love to see you try." I said shortly feeling my blood boil more now. Damn he was pissing me off. Jesus Christ, he was one of those that were so sure that he could help others. When I doubt he even helped anyone at all.
"You'll be seeing more of me later on, Mr. Winston." He said standing up. "The nurse will tell you when you're next appointment in me is. We just might become good friends."
I growled again as a nurse came in, flipping him off I was willing to let the nurse get me out of that place. Even if it was going to my hospital room which I didn't really like much.
I don't get it. I don't get why everyone was so sure that they could help me. Why did they even care in the first place? It wasn't in their interest to care about a hoodlum like be that picked up girls and did very bad things. It was in their interest to care about a hoodlum who fought to blow off steam. Why did they even bother in the first place?
