Another Fucking Therapy Appointment
2022-01-11
“Please, Anastasia, tell me what I don’t understand. I want to understand”
Anastasia O’ Malley tried to avoid looking directly into the eyes of the all too earnest face on the other end of the screen. But it was difficult. She took her therapy appointments in her bedroom, on her bed. The tablet recorded the wall behind her. It wasn’t that her bedroom was sparse. The bed was a luxury she had allowed herself to splurge on, with innumerable pillows and a fluffy down comforter. The dresser was more her style, a few pictures, a world map hanging above it. Some trinkets and such were scattered about, the curtains were pulled closed, her desk was in a corner. That neat lamp, the reading chair, and bookshelves crammed with books rounded it out. It wasn’t a spartan room by any means.
But the video call permeated into her space, her therapist’s eager and well-meaning voice carrying through the speakers. The PhD in psychology loomed in the background of the call, and her eyes, as if would suddenly become her back wall. The gaudy assortment of coloured books were so thick that she could easily imagine them crowding into her bookshelf, pushing out 1984, Cat’s Cradle, and others like a species of invasive bird chucking the eggs of another out of the nest before depositing its own.
She shuddered and caught the keen blue eyes of her therapist.
Fuck.
She gritted her teeth until it hurt, and then let out a deep breath. She was caught. They still had 30 minutes left.
“You don’t, get, how important they were-, are to me.”
A silent, understanding nod that understood nothing. The understanding that they could both sit here in silence until the end of the session, or that she could continue.
“Help me understand, please. What were they to you that we haven’t discussed?”
“They were.” She clenched her fists in frustration. “They were family.”
“Aren’t Ross and Ryke family?”
She snapped her head forward, stared straight into those blue eyes. “Ross and Ryke are the only family I’ve consistently had. You don’t get to ask what they are to me.”
Her therapist nodded, “I’m sorry, Anastasia. I’ll make a note of that so I don’t forget.” The only noise was the scribbling on the manilla notepad.
She had answered her, though. Fuck her, she had answered the question.
Goddamnit did she hate herself during these sessions.
((“You could bite her”)), Sakura, her daemon.
Anastasia repressed the urge to shoot her daemon a glare.
“Don’t not look at me like that. It would fix the problem. She’d sure as hell understand then.”
---
“Do you want to talk about your father today?”
“No.”
---
“I think there’s a subject we’ve been dodging, but I also understand if you’re not ready.”
“I don’t want to talk about my father today.”
---
“Anastasia, I think you should know that I truly do believe in client directed therapy. I don’t suggest topics to my clients unless I feel that they want to talk about something, are ready to talk about something, but might never talk about it without prompting.”
“…”
“I think it would be beneficial to you if we talked about your father.”
“I don’t think so.”
“Okay.”
Anastasia? Anastasia? Anastasia? You’re having a flashback. I want you to take deep breaths
In the months that follow, clouds of radioactive dust will blot out the sun. They will fall back to Earth, poisoning those who survived.
Anastasia, listen to me, you’re not there anymore. I need you to take deep breaths.
Your friends, your families. Your neighbors. Your schools, your churches. If the Russian wins, all reduced to nothing. What isn’t wiped out by the bombs, will be bulldozed by the Soviet armies.
Breath in, and out. In, and out.
---
The effects will wear off momentarily, just breathe in and out. You’ll be fine.
What’s wrong with him?
There’s nothing wrong with him, he’s having some sort of a panic attack.
That doesn’t look like any panic attack I’ve ever seen.
Oh? Really? When did you get a medical degree?
I’m sorry, that was curt. Anyway, take him outside and get him some apple juice. He’ll be fine.
---
Anastasia. You’re not there anymore.
Your friends, your families. Your neighbors. Your schools, your churches. If the Russian wins, all reduced to nothing. What isn’t wiped out by the bombs, will be bulldozed by the Soviet armies.
But we can prevent this.
Anastasia, we can prevent this.
You can prevent this.
If you join us. If you help us, you can save your families. You can save your nation. You can save the world.
It’s a lot to consider, I understand. But we need you. We need all of you. You are America, and the world’s, future.
๐ถ๐ถ๐ถ I know, I know I’ve let you down ๐ถ๐ถ๐ถ
Oh that’s just great.
Anastasia?
Oh, you heard that?
๐ถ๐ถ๐ถ But now through all the hurt and pain, it’s time for me to respect, the ones who love me more than anything ๐ถ๐ถ๐ถ
Anastasia, are you here again? Am I speaking to you?
Uh, yeah. I would, appreciate it if you would put the phone down.
I was just going to call your emergency contacts. That’s it. But, okay; I’m lowering the phone.
Thanks…
I’m lowering the phone, Anastasia.
…
….
…..
……
…….
……..
((Well this is awkward))
((Tell me about it. She’s just. Staring at us.))
((Actually, she’s staring at you.))
((Gee, thanks.))
((You’re welcome))
How, are you feeling?
I’m feeling fine. Tired. I don’t know. Tired. I’m feeling tired.
I think…., I think I had a flashback.
Yes. I think so too.
During downtime, the Pilot goes to the library. She spends a lot of time in the library. Probably more than she can justify, but she keeps saving the world; so it’s not like anyone will actually ever raise any objections. She always manages to find a new favorite book in the library.
“Get the fuck out of my apartment.”
“Excuse me?”
“We’re done.”
“Oh.”
“Get the fuck out of my apartment and get the FUCK out of my LIFE!”
“I’m sorry. But I don’t think this is working out.”
“I’ve, honestly been feeling the same thing.”
“I don’t think we should live together. I don’t think we can live together. I’m sorry.”
She hadn’t expected that.
She hadn’t seen that coming.
The imaginary sound of shattering glass in her ears.
Time freezing.
The moment suspended in eternity.
The end of an era.
So this was what it felt like to be stabbed in the heart.
She had been stabbed before, in the abdomen in some province in some unnamed, redacted country; and she decided that she preferred that.
“She hit you, with a sonic plush?”
“She broke my goddamn nose with a sonic plush.”
“She broke your goddamn nose with a sonic plush?”
“I don’t think she meant to. I don’t think she knew it had magnets.”
“Oh my god man, she broke your fucking nose with a sonic plush XD”
…
“I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m just fucking laughing my tail off oh my god that is the most cringe thing I have ever heard.”
“I kind of deserved it.”
“Oh, you absolutely deserved it.”
*Buzz*
Another text message.
*Buzz*
Another text message
*Buzz*
Another text message
*Buzz*
She pulls the sheets over her head and tries to get back to sleep. She doesn’t want to be awake anymore. She doesn’t want to talk anymore. She doesn’t want to read any more “I’m sorry” or “If you need anything”. It all reminds her that she’s here, in this moment.
That it’s real.
She’d do anything to make it not be real.
“WHAT THE FUCK DID YOU DO TO ME?!?”
She stared down at-
_She_ stared down at-
Flipped them over and over. Ran them over each other. She could feel every individual strand of fur, she could see them. Like a forest of snowy trees dotted by black frozen lakes.
She held her paws in front of her face.
Across from her, Maya crossed her arms, unimpressed. “I got tired of your shit, so I took the steps you wouldn’t take. You’re welcome.”
She threw one of the strongest punches she had ever made at her best friend, and fell straight on her ass as reality walked out of the way; taking Maya with it to the opposite corner of the room.
In the corner of her vision, she could see the old reading chair, the tan carpet, a bit of the kitchen, and the white fur running up to her wet black snoot, resting on the carpet.
๐ถ๐ถ๐ถ This magic moment
So different and so new…
Was like any other, until I met you… ๐ถ๐ถ๐ถ
“Come on motherfucker, bring it!”
Anastasia blinked, and found herself face to face with an angry, sweaty man wearing some sort of harness from which trailed cables to the two swords he held in each hand.
Anastasia felt the weight of a pistol in her hand, thumbed it to make sure the safety was off, then raised it and shot the man in the head.
“Okay.”
---
She awoke, flat on her bed. In the distance, her phone glowed. A small square of white in a sea of beige. She felt like she had been hit by a truck, but not actually; because she had been hit by a truck one time and it didn’t feel like this.
A voice that could she just recognize as frantic enough to be worth her attention drifted into her ear. At first, she couldn’t make out what it was saying, and as she waited for her brain to puzzle itself back together she stared at her tan grey walls. Row upon row of endless dots. It would take an eternity to count them all. How could anyone feel happy when things were so meaningless?
“Anastasia, Anastasia, can you hear me”
“Anastasia?! Anastasia?”
The feeling of her daemon, gently nuzzling her. And the, her voice. Gentle and crisp, but urgent.
“Hey, ่ตทใใฆ.”
“ๆฉใใ่ตทใใฆ”
“ใใฎใฎๅใซใใใชใใฏๅป่ ใจ้ป่ฉฑใงใใฏใชใใฆใใพใใใ”
She bolted upright, and scrabbled off of the bed, kicking off her sheets as she landed a few feet away from her phone. Not even bothering to correct that she had done so on all fours, she rushed to her phone. Scooping it up, she breathlessly breathed into the receiver. “I’m here, I’m fine. Dr. Miller? I’m here. I’m okay.”
She flipped the phone over and stared at the screen, “Anastasia!”
There was a burst of bright white, and her therapist was staring at her again, her face creased with worry and her ice blue eyes intent on her computer screen. The collar of her impeccably buttoned sweater vest-blouse combination was ever so slightly creased. “Are you okay? I was so worried, did you fall ove-“
“You had your video off. You should have taken the time to straighten your collar, it would have been less obvious that you were using your hands to look up my address, and your head and shoulders to hold the phone you were calling 911 on me from.”
Her therapist frowned, deep and hard. Anastasia kept met her gaze; and kept it.
“Anastasia… I wasn’t calling 911, Anastasia, I was calling Ryke. Just like before, I was going to call your emergency contacts. Like we agreed.”
Anastasia resisted the urge to flinch, resisted the urge to shove her fist through the computer screen, resisted the urge to tell this woman to go fuck herself. She took her emotions and pushed them down, curling her lip and biting it, holding the anger down while she put ice on it. Surprisingly, her therapist’s look softened and her ears perked involuntarily as she wondered if- wait. Her ears?
“I’ve never seen you in, this form before, Anastasia.”
Ahh fuck. She resisted the urge to look down at herself, she could feel it now. From ear tip to tail.
Why didn’t you tell me I shifted?!? She hissed at Sakura, who arched an eyeridge in a way no non daemon fox could do.
I figured not having members of the Seattle PD, quite possibly several of whom you work with on the regular, or even worse, those who don’t know you; see you having a panic attack as a bipedal fox would be far less preferable than your ego getting bruised in front of your therapist.
Anastasia winced as her daemon looked away and her therapist continued to talk, she was going to feel bad about that one for a while.
“It’s really quite fetching on you, I’m actually surprised that we didn’t talk about it before.” Her face scrunched up in confusion, “I… Have we talked about this before? I don’t think we have. Actually. It must be on your intake form though… Oh, here it is. It’s, partially covered up by your signature…”
I told you that was a fucking awful idea.
“I know you did,” Anastasia thought.
At least I talked you out of anything actually illegal. I told you she’d find out eventually, though.
“Anastasia!”
She snapped back to her therapist, who looked decidedly angry. Her face was drawn tight, her lips pursed, and her eyebrows arched.
Shit, she looks just like Mistress does when-
Her daemon cut off, and for that she was glad. She was already unnerved enough. She willed her ears to stay in place, her face to stay neutral, but it was no use. Her ears flopped down, she gritted her teeth, and her therapist pinched the bridge of her nose and sighed.
“Did you seriously try to cover up checking off the Additional section, Anastasia? Was this some sort of compromise between you two?!”
Anastasia was looking straight ahead, ears still slightly cowed, but out of the corner of her eyes she saw the alarm in her daemon’s face that she was trying to suppress in her own.
“Oh, don’t act so surprised. You two are as thick as thieves.” Another sigh.
“Anastasia. That you would go this far to avoid talking about your species…”
“We need to talk about this.”
Her heart sank inside.
Well shit.