For a second I just stood there, taking in what Dr. Parsons had just said. I wasn't sure how much worse Alice's mental state could get. "How so?" I asked trying to get the words out without my voice cracking.
Dr. Parsons looked me right in the eye. "Well, the suspicion of bi-polar was correct, type II, I'll get her started on some mood stabilizers next week. Apparently the vision are coming more frequently, and the worst," She took a deep breath. "Alice is cutting herself."
I dropped my clipboard. "WHAT!"
Dr. Parsons picked it up and gave me a sympathetic stare, a real one, not the ones that some doctors fake. She really did care. "It was a surprise to me too. She covers it very well. Only small cuts on her thighs."
"Did she tell you this willingly?"
"No." She sighed. "She winced when I placed my hand there and. . . .yeah."
"Can I speak to her?"
"She said only if you promised you wouldn't yell at her."
"Of course. I would never, it's not like any of these illnesses are her fault."
"Okay then, follow me."
The mental health centre in the hospital isn't very large, only a small hallway. Most therapists either have their own private practise or work in special help centres, like the one in Biloxi. Alice was curled up on the sofa drying her eyes with a black stained tissue. I sat down beside her and put my arm around her.
"I'm not mad at you." I whispered.
She turned and started at me with those large grey eyes of hers. Just like her mother. "Really?" she asked.
I hugged her. "Of course not, honey. Were gonna get you help so you can stop."
Alice hugged me back, "I'm sorry." She started crying again. "When are we moving?"
She looked me right in the eyes. Gateway to my soul as Esme called them. Alice was reading them right now. I sighed. "Probably next week."
She buried her head in my shoulder. "I'm scared Daddy."
I held her closer. "I know sweetheart."