Sixth Victim by Kate Mitchell

Author:Kate Mitchell [Mitchell, Kate]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2020-12-14T22:00:00+00:00

12

Despite everything that had happened, Cecelia slept well and out for the count, it must have been the heavy crying.

To be healthy and enjoy life is not a novelty; it happens to a great number of people. But there is a new type of smart cell phone, PC people, with smart jobs through their newly politically correct degrees who have created their own kind of sensitivity, called indifference. Who plugs into life which has been perfectly constructed for them. The people born at the last moment and now sweeping the old fogies away. To hell with these people, people who haven’t suffered, who don’t plan to either, but still busily making certain they have furbished their own nests. These are the fast, new kind, the continental smart cars which whizz around town showing how clever they are. But their days are numbered, even now.

A couple of months ago, Cecelia had experienced activities from one of these smarties. From out of the blue, a sudden haze had clouded her reality just as if a tempest had past overhead and pulled her crashing down with it. There was no good asking how she got there because she was there and stranded, and if she didn’t do something about it, she would be stuck until the natural duration passed. That could be weeks, months. Literary, she couldn’t afford to wallow in this ghetto, she had to get out and therapy was the help she ran to. She had a house and a life to pay for.

Not trusting herself to drive there, Cecelia took a handy cab. Worry about money was the least of her problems in this instance without her health, she wouldn’t be able to do anything.

The tall woman of about twenty-five was waiting for her. Her eyes flicked over Cecelia, casually, already she was working her number.

Nice dress, registered Cecelia quietly to herself. But shame about the legs. Needs to go on a little diet and workout, a lot.

‘If you would like to go through,’ directed the five feet eight and modern American Asian woman dwarfing Cecelia in volume and weight. ‘My name is Stacey, please take a seat.’

Her well-padded office chair sighed as she took her seat. Cecelia couldn’t help feeling sorry for the chair.

‘And what can I do for you?’ she asked.

A newly passed graduate from a therapy course lasting four months, and she knew it all. She knew how to sort out the world and the people who were complaining, just like Cecelia. Cecelia was whining and complaining. What was the matter with her? She had been spoilt. There was nothing wrong with her. She would sort her out. Cecelia, you can walk, talk, and get yourself something to eat. You can make eye contact. Isn’t that enough for you? There is nothing wrong with you, except that you’re whining. If I figured this one out, so should have you. As long as my wages are being paid by you, look at me; I’m not complaining at all, am I?

Where had the other therapist gone? The kind one who understood.

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