Urp. This chapter felt somewhat rushed, as did the last one, and I'm having a bit of trouble with the whole psychiatrist bit. Too bad I have no training, eh? Thanks for the continued reviews, and please don't feel the need to sugarcoat. I can take criticism, you know, and much as I appreciate the praise, there's a limit to how helpful it is (that doesn't mean you have to stop though!). Anyway, enjoy.

XXIV

"Enough of this, Ellie." Dr. Cavanaugh's words were calm, but firm. "You'll never get out of here if you can't talk to me. You did well yesterday, at the beginning anyway. But you ran away. You have to start facing things."

"Why?" Ellie said. "I like my little bubble world." Her words were less than sincere, and Dr. Cavanaugh, up until that point ever-patient, was fed up with her.

"There you again Ellie! You're changing the subject. Avoiding, running away, just ignoring what's going on and blocking everyone else from even talking to you. It's a defense mechanism, I get it. You're smart, I'll give you that. But I'm trained to do this, Ellie. Getting around me isn't that easy. Talk to me. Tell me what's going on, and I'll leave you alone for a bit. Sit here and sulk, and I'll make your life difficult."

"Go to hell. No, you heard me," Ellie said. "Leave me alone. I never asked for any of this. Don't expect me to act like you're doing me a favour. Just leave me the hell alone."

Dr. Cavanaugh laughed slightly. "Let me know when you're done your tantrum," she said. She was purposely trying to get Ellie upset, knowing from experience that sometimes it made patients open up before they even realized it.

"Oh screw you." Ellie shook her head. "You think you can just march me in here and make me talk? Get off your high-horse." The psychiatrist rolled her eyes slightly. "Fine, you want to know what's going on? I hate you. I hate myself for hating you. I hate you for making me talk yesterday, and I hate myself for giving in. I hate cutting. I hate being miserable. I hate not knowing what a deep cut looks like anymore. I hate doctors and I hate shrinks and I hate this hospital. But you know what I hate the most? All this damn hatred."

"Don't blame you," Dr. Cavanaugh said quietly. "Being angry or miserable all the time isn't fun."

"Oh, please," Ellie said. "Don't patronize me. What would you know about any of that? You're off in your well-paid, happy shrink land where the sky is blue and the sun is shining and you get to deal with the insane the whole fucking day so you can reaffirm your own normality. Glad I could make your life that much brighter." She stood up and stormed toward the door as best as she could in hospital-issued slippers.

"Ellie." It was enough to stop her in her tracks. She remained by the door, but she turned to face the doctor, a frustrated expression on her face. "You've got to know by now that most practicing psychiatrists and psychologists are in it because they've had their personal stuff to deal with, and saw the industry first hand. If I were in it for the money, or selfish reasons, or whatever, I'd be in private practice, not a hospital on a government salary. I care, okay? I do this because I want to help. Maybe I'm naive in thinking I can make a difference, but you'll never know if you don't give it a chance. Please, can you sit back down?" Ellie remained in the same place. "The anger isn't a bad thing," Dr. Cavanaugh continued. "You're letting yourself feel, for once. But again, you're trying to run from it. You walk out the door, and you prove me right, you know that don't you?" Ellie gave a short, unhappy nod, and without looking at the doctor, returned to her seat. Her jaw was still set, and her facial expression unimpressed, but she let her eyes flicker very briefly to the psychiatrist's face, which, she was satisfied to see, held no trace of smugness.

"You mentioned your mother yesterday," Dr. Cavanaugh said tentatively. "Can you tell me about your family?"

Ellie hesitated, then nodded. "Dad's great," she said. "He's just wonderful. I mean, he means more to me than almost anything in the world. I can debate with him without it getting heated, I can tell him things I can't tell anyone else, and he's fair, too. He doesn't let me get away with it when I do something he thinks isn't up to my own standards, or anything like that. He's in the military, which is why he hasn't been to visit me. He's on a peace keeping mission right now, so it's not like he could just drop everything and come running or anything, and I don't expect him to. I mean, I hope they don't tell him about any of this. I haven't." She looked down. "He doesn't even know about the--the cutting."

"Why not? You seem to trust him."

"I can't do that to him. I can't let him down, and I mean, I don't want him to worry about me or feel like he can't leave or anything. It's not fair to him."

"And it is fair to you?" the doctor asked. "It's fair that you should be dealing with this without the support of your family?" Ellie shrugged. "Your mother. What about her? What's she like?"

"She's my mom. I mean, what am I supposed to say?" Ellie was immediately defensive, something that did not go unnoticed.

"Just because someone is related to you does not mean they're perfect, Ellie. I'm not going to go running to her if you say a word of two of criticism. For that matter, if I did, I would probably lose my job."

"She's my mom, and I love her," Ellie insisted. "And I'm not talking about this. I don't care if you think I'm running away or avoiding it or whatever. I'm through with this for today."

The psychiatrist glanced at her watch and nodded. "Okay. You may go." Ellie had expected protests, and gave her a mild look of astonishment. "Go on," the doctor said again, with a hint of a smile. As usual, she'd managed to completely deflate Ellie's resolve.

Ellie hesitated another moment, then did as she was told. She spent the rest of the day refusing visitors and ignoring phone calls--and making a few visits to other patients on the ward. When it finally came time to go to bed, she rolled over, her back to the door, and embarked on her plan.

It took some time before a nurse noticed the blood seeping through the sheets.