Hope Drowned: a unique and mysterious YA Disaster Dystopian (Deadly Earth Book 1) by L.B. Carter

Hope Drowned: a unique and mysterious YA Disaster Dystopian (Deadly Earth Book 1) by L.B. Carter

Author:L.B. Carter [Carter, L.B.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2018-07-30T00:00:00+00:00


Chapter Eleven

“How did that make you feel?” Dr. Spelmann rested his forearms against the shiny top of the large mahogany desk, fingers interlaced on his notepad as he waited calmly for his patient’s response as though it weren’t the most idiotic, cliché enquiry from a psychiatrist. Magnified eyes blinked lethargically behind thick rimless lenses.

He didn’t even care what her reply was; he got paid to listen. A therapist’s whole job was to let people whine at him all day. He didn’t have to really say anything profound or even fully pay attention, just let people blather on about their problems. Rena probably wouldn’t listen either. That much complaining would get on anyone’s nerves, moreover irreversibly depress their spirit, which might explain the droop to his cheeks and the heavy creases in his forehead—the only feature adorning his bald head.

He closed and opened his eyes again, waiting patiently, the entire process taking as long as it took the toe of Rena’s shoe to scuff the floor three times. Maybe patience was really what was needed for this job. “Jane?”

She ground her teeth. Dr. Spelmann had been there since the beginning, back when she’d been Jane Doe. She wished he’d switch to the name she’d adopted. One would think a guy who claimed to understand the subtle effect of a minute detail on someone’s psyche would allow her the courtesy of respecting that she was no longer merely an anonymous survivor. Besides, the acknowledgment would be in his best interest if he ever wanted a thoughtful answer—let alone any answer—to his queries.

Otherwise it would always be: Pissed off.

“How did you feel when your opponent pinned you to the mat?” he repeated.

How would anyone feel in that situation? How would Dr. Spelmann feel, with his arms pinned, his body smothered by someone twice his size—more than that in weight—while unable to breathe? How would he feel if he were physically attacked for the second time in as many weeks? Probably just as vulnerable, helpless, trapped as she had!

He already knew the answer to his question. That’s not what he really wanted from her.

“Jane, if you don’t voice what was going through your head in these situations, you’ll never be able to move on. You need to understand your reactions to stress so you can correct them or at least prepare for them in the case of future events.”

Stress was a cute word for “dying.” Perhaps Dr. Spelmann needed to take Mr. Sanderson’s anatomy class if he didn’t understand how breathing was essential to living. And what did he mean future events? What, did he think she wanted to experience that again? Third time’s the charm? Well, unless the car accident was the first time. In which case, check, check and check. Done. Time to not do that again. Actually, how about skip it in the first place.

Shame the giant degree framed behind him on the wall didn’t certify Dr. Spelmann a mad-genius mind, acknowledging his ability to create a time machine for her.

He



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