Why am I here?

The question ran through Dr. Turner's head as he continued to sit in fearful silence before the young woman sprawled out on the couch.

"Say, doc." She said, turning to face him and letting an arm dangle from the edge. "You wouldn't happen to have anything to drink that's age restricted, wouldja?"

What was this? Was she actually asking him a question, rather than practicing a monologue so cheesy he could swear he could make a nice chip dip out of?

"Uh..." An excellent first word spoken to his latest psych...patient. "No, sorry. I'm not one for drinking."

"Shit." The girl uttered under her breath as she looked away with rolling eyes. "Can't catch a fucking break anywhere, can I?"

Now to prove that he had a pair on him, and that she didn't intimidate him in the slightest. "You know, I would imagine that, considering the situation you're in, you'd be a little more worried about getting through this as quickly as possible."

The girl turned to him again, this time with an eyebrow raised in amusement. Dr. Turner slightly shifted in his chair, hoping that she didn't notice him do it.

"Well," She said in amusement. Oh, she knew. "Look at the balls on this guy. Thinkin' he can tell me whatever the fuck he wants. Didn't get a good read of my file, didja?"

"Alls I'm sayin' is that it would be in your best interest that you complete this course. After all, which sounds more appealing to you; a lifetime in prison because I tell the court you're competent to stand trial, or walking away because I tell them you're as out of place as batshit? And twice as insane?"

If Dr. Tucker could take her for anything...well, to be honest, he wouldn't. He wouldn't touch her with a ten-mile pole. But, if he had to place a bet about her, 'idiot' would not be where he'd put his money. It took her half a second for her to take a breath, process the thought and come up with a conclusion.

"So, I tell you about me. I tell you what makes me tick. I let you into my fucked up world, and you tell the court I'm a Fuckedup McDipshit and that I should walk?"

"Maybe not walk, but at least get you into a stable environment. After that, you're free to do whatever you can."

"Alright then." The girl straightened back up and folded her hands across her abdomen again. "So, where should we start?"

"Well," Dr. Tucker answered. "Normally we'd pick up where you left off and go into your childhood, but I didn't even catch your name. How about we start there?"

"Name's on my file."

Time to let 'em grow. "I got that. 'Bad Girl'. I was hoping I could get the name you had before that one."

Bad Girl smirked a bit. "Real name, huh? Been a while. Gonna have to think about it."

"Take your time." And no, he wasn't being sarcastic.

After a few moments in clock-droned silence, she finally spoke. "Gracie."

"Gracie?" A pen scrawling across paper accompanied the question.

Bad Girl nodded. "Gracie Lou Freebush."

Now, Dr. Turner may not have been the most up-to-date person in the world, but he knew sarcasm when he heard it.

"Yes, I liked that movie too. What about your name?"

Bad Girl chuckled a little. "Damn. Kinda hoping you were too stupid to catch that. Alright. My name's Lynn."

"Am I getting a real name this time?"

"Yeah. Lynn...well, Lynnette."

Dr. Turner scratched out the movie reference on his notepad and wrote down what he needed. The fact that she didn't give him a last name didn't bother him that much. A first name was all he needed to make her a little more human.

"Alright then, Lynn...is it alright if I call you that?" A silent nod answered his question. "Lynn. How about we get back to where you left off. How did life before you lead to you laying on my sofa?"

Whatever semblance of a smile that graced Bad Girl's features vanished. She took another deep breath.

Fuck. If I'd known I'd be doing so much breathing, I'd have brought a fucking fan.

"Right. Guess we'd better stop spending an entire chapter stalling and get on with it..."