Thanks for all those who read and/or reviewed! It is greatly appreciated.
Here's the next session with who else but Akito? I think it's becoming apparent that things are beginning to move toward an end; there's not much left (which is really quite depressing for me)! Anyway, I hope you enjoy this part as much as I enjoyed writing it.
Patient – Akito Sohma; Session #218
"I apologize, Akito, for having to reschedule your appointment. I was not feeling very well yesterday," I explained as the she spread herself out on the couch and glanced at me with semi-interest. "But we can begin if you'd like…" I trailed off awkwardly as I began to clumsily shuffle through her folder (it had grown very thick over the months). Akito eyed me with intrigue; it was obvious I was unusually fidgety and uncomfortable.
It had been over a day and that bizarre nightmare I had would not leave me. Even when I thought I had pushed it out of my head, it was still there, creeping its way out of my subconscious to interrupt my thoughts. What was worse was my mother's words to me kept ringing in my ears, reminding me of her disappointment, nagging me to no end: "you must stop this sacrilege." Add to that the increasing pressure to come up with an answer for Professor Jammerson, and I was having trouble concentrating on anything.
With my dream plaguing me, I couldn't really look at Akito without feeling squeamish, and I could tell that Akito gleefully noticed. Each time I glanced over at her, I was reminded of the eerie image of her hanging over me from her cross, of the blood dripping from her limbs and pouring out of her eyes, of the terrible smell that seemed to still linger in my nostrils. I tried my best to shake it, but I couldn't. Yet, despite all I had suffered with her, I still had certain things I wanted to discuss with her. So I tried again, "I, uh, actually wanted to ask you about the other day regarding the session we had following my professor's visit."
Akito was smirking with amusement. "Are you still not feeling well, Kazuki? You look pale…" She sniggered a bit.
I twitched slightly and shifted uneasily in my chair. "I suppose I still have a touch of something," I mumbled, keeping my eyes glued to the notes on my desk. "Now, about that session, I wanted to ask you about your anger – "
"I was angry because you defied me – such wrath is expected of any strong god," she explained simply.
"Maybe so, but I thought perhaps your expression of anger was your way of concealing some other deeper emotions?"
"Why won't you look at me?" Akito suddenly questioned, her gaze growing suspicious.
"Pardon?"
"This whole time – you won't look at me. You keep staring at your desk."
"Well, I, uh…" I stammered foolishly, averting my eyes to the window, where a cold November breeze bristled through the bare trees.
Akito curiously eyed me for a few more moments. Then, her expression changed, her eyes widening and an ecstatic smile spread across her face. "Could it be that our heretical and impious Kazuki has finally seen the errors of his ways and is ready to pay his proper respects to his god? Do you finally grovel before me?"
"No!" I blurted and, with little choice, truthfully explained, "It's just that the other night I dreamt about you." As soon as I said it, I regretted not having come up with a lie and felt my face grow hot with embarrassment.
"A dream…?" Akito raised an eyebrow, exceptionally intrigued.
"It's not what you think – at all," I clearly stated. I then remarked, "It's not really important."
"I thought you said we should always talk through what's bothering us," she snidely pointed out.
"It's not bothering me."
"It isn't?"
"No…" With this, I forced myself to look at her directly. Again, I felt squeamish, but I did not allow myself to avert my gaze. Swallowing hard, I said, "See? Nothing's bothering me at all."
Akito was not satisfied. She pressed, "But what is it that you dreamt about me?"
"It doesn't mean anything," I lied. Obviously, as a psychiatrist, I understood that dreams could have a variety of meanings, as they were a way for the subconscious to express itself (although I was admittedly not anxious to decipher the meaning of my own). Yet, I wasn't about to let Akito know that.
"If it didn't mean anything, than why does it bother you to tell me?"
"Because, it's personal…" I half-heartedly countered.
"Personal?"
"This isn't an appropriate conversation. What I want to talk to you about is why you got so angry at the notion of me leaving, especially when all you've expressed is contempt for my practice?"
"I don't want to talk about that now!" Akito snapped, sitting up erect with anger. "I want to talk about your dream!"
"Akito – "
"I will talk about your nonsense after we've finished discussing this."
I rolled my eyes. "Well, then I guess we won't be discussing anything."
"Fine." She glared at me before she laid down back on the couch. Harshly, she turned away from me. We were quiet for awhile. In the back of my mind I could faintly hear the sounds of Professor Jammerson playing the organ and the choir of my former friends. It was beginning to give me a migraine, and I rubbed my temples in hopes to soothe it. Relaxing a bit, I studied Akito – blocking out thoughts of the grotesque image my subconscious had dreamt up – and noticed she had begun to impatiently tap her thin finger rapidly against the back of the couch. Her left foot, which hung over the side of the couch, began to sway back and forth. At last, she said, "I'm no longer angry."
"Hmm?"
She sharply turned her head back to face me. "I'm not angry with you."
"You aren't?" I questioned with surprise.
"About the other day," she clarified. "I'm still angry that you won't tell me about your dream."
"I'm sorry, it's my fault – I shouldn't have mentioned it," I quickly apologized. Pausing, I then asked, "But you aren't angry about the other day?" To be honest, I didn't believe her.
"Not at all," she smiled, "I see now that I overreacted."
"Oh….that's good," I stated, but I was unconvinced. For some reason, something was bothering me. "But Akito, the others – well, the others told me you were pretty upset…"
"I'm not."
"No?"
"I said so, didn't I?" She was still grinning.
"I suppose so…." With nothing left to say, and knowing that continuing to pry would just provoke her, I simply said, "I guess we have nothing left to talk about."
"Yes," she agreed, lazily standing up, "I guess we don't." I watched her walk to the door and felt an old jolt in my stomach. It suddenly dawned on me; could this be the last session I would have with Akito? Was this, after 218 tiresome sessions, the way it was going to end? Reflecting on our time together, the sickening realization that I had made no progress with her began to sink in. Yet, at the same time, I felt relief as well. After all, I had tried my best and now I would finally be free of her and her overbearing, oppressive ways. I would just have to look beyond the failure – ignore it as best I could so as to not allow it to swallow me up with guilt - toward a promising future back in America.
Yes, it was finally over. I knew it, and I was sure she knew it, too. Managing a faint smile, I solemnly said, "Goodbye, Akito." She gave me a smirk back and nodded. But then – then she stated knowingly:
"See you later…"