quackkers [Dieter]

[henri]

Well, things can't get much worse than this! Henri thought as she made her way through Broadgate's squares, pausing every few blocks to check around herself for any hostile signs of life. It was dark outside, the only light emitting from street lamps, which limited her visibility and made shadows appear as something more than they actually were. However, the only life she could detect besides her own were the plants that decorated the area. They seemed to loudly protest the fact that humanity had not completely taken over the globe. In fact, that was very true. Humanity wasn’t on the top of the food chain anymore. Humanity was the equivalent of cattle to what now sat in the seat of power. Henri knew this; she was not blind to these new malevolent forces, unlike many of her fellow human beings. She wasn’t dead terrified of them, however. The reason for her caution was simply just to be on the safe side. It was better to be smart and alive than stupid and dead. At least, that's what Henri reasoned.

She stopped at one of the office buildings to check the number, then fished through her pants pocket to compare it with the number she had received on a note. By some stroke of luck, they happened to match. Stuffing the note back into her pocket, she read the sign on the door. "Dr. Auttenburg," she muttered to herself. "Well, doesn't that sound official? Too bad it isn't something like Dr. Wiggins." She stood there a moment longer, trying to think of any other reason she could use to stall the time. She gobbled down another few seconds to have a look at her watch. She was already ten minutes late. Really, it wasn’t like she had anything more important to do with her time than go for a therapy session. But it was simply the fact that it was a mandatory session that made her feel the need to be so resistant.

The whole reason for the mandatory sessions was fairly ridiculous, in Henri's opinion. She'd been taken to court because her neighbor had gotten pissed off at her for skinning her cat. Really, things like that happened all the time! At least that's what Henri thought. It was just because her neighbor was a real sore sport. No fun. Unfortunately, when Henri had tried reasoning with her that "At least your cat hadn't gotten eaten by a werewolf!", the argument had gotten even further downhill. The judge had a real issue with that one. He'd gotten really fidgety. And when Henri had asked him if maybe he needed a restroom break, he'd blown up at her and given her mandatory sessions.

The judge was probably a werewolf. Ah, so it goes.

Finally, Henri reached for the doorknob and let herself inside the office. There was a typical waiting room, then a door that led further into the 'chamber of doom'. Seeing no one else in the waiting room, and knowing that she was late, Henri walked over and let herself into the therapy room. Seeing an empty couch, she plopped herself down onto it, pulled her legs up to sit Indian-style, and then allowed her eyes to rest on her therapist. Immediately, a quizzical expression came over her face.

"Man, that young?" she asked. "Either you're a quack, or you're a genius. Though really, I was hoping you'd have two heads or something. At least it'd help pass the time, y'know?"

"Oh right, introductions. People are supposed to introduce themselves when they first meet, yes? My name is Batman. You don't have to tell me your name, though. I already know it, since you so conveniently had it on your front door. Quite a good idea, I must say. I've walked into plenty of other places where they don't have the man's name on the front door. But usually those places have a lot of people, so the door probably wouldn’t fit all of their names. And it wouldn’t be fair to have only some of the peoples' names on the door, now would it?"

[Dieter Auttenburg]

“Vell, looks like ve’re done,” I said softly, my gaze traveling from the paper laid out in front of me to the quiet girl who sat down with her arms crossed over her chest in the sofa. Normally such a gesture would be accompanied by some glaring, but tonight she just seemed relieved that it was finally over. As my words registered in her mind a smile flashed upon her features and she gingerly stood up, gathered her things and marched towards the door. I noticed however, that her posture was slightly hunched over and her feet dragged on the carpet despite her expression. I only had a moment of doubt before…

“Ask my secretary for anot’er appointment,” I said to her back, immediately I saw her stop, shoulders tense. Slowly, almost mechanically she turned around to face me, I could clearly see the displeasure in her face and by the way her lips parted to form words I knew I better find some earmuffs or something because I knew her to scream…

“WHAT?” she screeched, I flinched from how her voice was raised two octaves thanks to my sensitive senses. “Not another one, I thought this was the last one,” she said in a softer tone, shacking her head from side to side to show that she was not going down without a fight. For a minute I just stared, eyes narrowed to show that I meant what I said. However her only response was to glare, the sound of her hard breathing filled the office. It was for quite some time that the scene would be reflected like that, however eventually, when I was sure she had calmed down some I simply said “You need it.”

She dropped her gaze to look at the floor, biting her lip trying to consider her options. Not that there were any. She fidgeted on her feet, balancing herself on the balls of her feet then landing back and beginning the process all over again. She mouthed something to herself. The clock in front of me, behind the sofa kept ticking, marking the seconds. Thirty-five seconds went like this. She pulled at her hair, looked up and nodded. Without a word she turned around and marched towards the secretary’s desk.

A sighed and sank into my chair, looking down at the desk. The desk was dark wood, I don’t remember what kind now, but you could hardly tell around the mess of papers that lay atop it, some were organized, courtesy of my secretary which tries to keep this place in some kind of order (please not I did say try). Right now it just looked like a very messy mass of papers; in fact I couldn’t spot my pen right now. My eyes scanned the area only to find paper after endless stream of paper, how convenient it would be if I had x-ray vision right now. Giving up on finding that pen my gaze turned towards the rest of the room, the walls were painted this army green color, camo something or another, with exception of the ceiling, which was painted a creamy beige. Not a very tasteful color scheme but it was better than stark white walls that towered over you. Towards the middle of the room there was a chocolate brown sofa, facing the desk, it was quite the comfortable sofa too and it wasn’t leather. The floor was covered by a creamy color carpet and on the left side (my left) of the room there was a large window overlooking that lovely London traffic. The right wall (my right) possessed the door on the far corner and some of those modern pieces of art that really looked quite silly there. On the farthest wall you could find a lovely array of bookshelves piled high with books of all kinds (I could get quite bored sometimes and reading could be a nice pastime), the bookshelves constructed out of dark wood. And on the left corner you could find a nice chaise lounge that matched with the sofa.

Now the chair I was currently seated on was heaven and was black and rather comfortable and perfect for snoozing in. The wall behind was covered with two bookshelves side by side and was also piled high with books. And for your information I am aware my office can double as a library if you really think about it, but that’s not the point right now. I had a patient that was suppose to come here, but they hadn’t showed up so I settled for trying to bring some order into the desk and finding my pen. I lifted paper after paper trying to order them, passing the time since this next patient, well it would be the first time I saw them and somehow for some odd reason patients like this always arrived late, so I might as well entertain myself with something.

I was in the process of picking up a paper and almost crying triumphantly when my pen materialized behind it when suddenly a girl in her early twenties burst through the door and sat down in the sofa. She didn’t even give me a chance to see if she was my next patient or just some crazy who decided she liked my office (yes, that has happened before). Because immediately she opened her mouth, saying: "Man, that young? Either you're a quack, or you're a genius. Though really, I was hoping you'd have two heads or something. At least it'd help pass the time, y'know?" she rambled.

I smirked, unable to hold back my amusement, for a minute forgetting that I wasn’t completely sure if this was my patient or not. “Vampire,” I said, flashing my fangs in what I hope looked like a friendly grin, “T’is isn’t the firs’ time someone ‘as made t’at comment, y’know,” I remarked, still not being able to bite back my amusement. "Oh right, introductions. People are supposed to introduce themselves when they first meet, yes? My name is Batman. You don't have to tell me your name, though. I already know it, since you so conveniently had it on your front door. Quite a good idea, I must say. I've walked into plenty of other places where they don't have the man's name on the front door. But usually those places have a lot of people, so the door probably wouldn’t fit all of their names. And it wouldn’t be fair to have only some of the peoples' names on the door, now would it?" she said again.

I arched a brow, clearly admiring how much a single human being could talk in such a short period of time. “Good t’ing yer not mute, you’d ecksplode,” I commented, turning my gaze to my papers trying to find the name of who the hell was suppose to be my patient now. However I soon gave up and settled for sitting back and saying: “So, fhy are you here?”

That should be a global enough question and it’s nice to hear from the persons themselves why are they here, since then you can tell what are they feeling in the matter.

[henri]

"Vampire." Well, that explained a lot. Made things crystal clear. It also made this scenario a whole lot more interesting. Maybe, just maybe, the girl would be able to have some fun tonight. She'd landed into therapy on some occasions beforehand, and usually she'd fall asleep during the sessions. Some therapists were really drab. But this guy was another story. A fanged-fellow! Not that being a vampire could make a naturally boring person entertaining. It was a start, though. At least she'd have something to bother him about if the going got tough.

Henri smiled back at the vampire's fanged grin, her own canines not nearly as sharp, fiddling with the laces on her boots as she did so. She was dressed in all black, either because she was lazy or because she truly believed she was Batman. After taking a moment to observe the book-infested room, she turned her attention back to the therapist, who seemed to be unable to find something. Which really wasn’t all that surprising, because the desk was quite messy.

"I was going to say that next," the girl remarked. "But I figured I'd see if you would be open about it. Always a good thing to know, anyway. I'm a human. Actually, I'm not. I'm only part human. The rest of me is a plant-insect combination. I can photosynthesize with my fingernails. I'd show you, but it's dark out." She adjusted herself on the couch, as if just realizing that it was actually comfortable and not some form of torture device.

"So, fhy are you here?" Ah, the million-dollar question. But shouldn’t he already know that? Maybe that's what he had been looking for in that monstrous pile of papers. Henri thought for a moment, then decided she might as well help him out. After all, they couldn’t get anywhere without such precious knowledge. Not that she would mind discussing something completely different and a billion times less important.

"I skinned my neighbor's cat," she answered nonchalantly, toying around with the tips of her spiky hair. "It's not like I did it while it was alive, though. I killed it first. She was awfully pissed off at me, though. So we went to court, and then I mentioned werewolves, and then the judge got pissed off at me too. He's probably a werewolf. Anyway, with both of their piss-ed-ness combined, I couldn’t stand a chance." Story told, she sat there for a moment, brooding.

"He was a really mean cat, though. Honestly."

[Dieter Auttenburg]

She flashed a smile in return to mine so I considered that good, right? At least I hadn’t managed to freak her out like this one batshit crazy patient I had who was in denial about vampires existence, not werewolves though, werewolves were extremely believable. So of course when she comes to my office and sees that her doctor has fangs and drinks his coffee with blood she would completely freak out and lose it. Went completely bonkers, she did. I didn’t want to repeat that episode so of course I was immediately relieved that this patient at least, showed no signs of freaking out upon discovering that her doctor was one. Then again, that patient was rather amusing; every time I talked she would cower in fear and lob random objects at me, though it could be quite painful.

However, besides a bit of fidgeting she didn’t seem to do much, so I had taken the opportunity to go spelunking for some papers, well actually her papers which had been swallowed alive by the desk monster with hopes that I shall never find them again. The whole process was rather dull, just pick up a paper, inspect it, throw it to the side, repeat. A frown has beginning to etch its way into my features, clearly I did not approve of disappearing papers and I had little patience and what I had was drying up fast. However this did not mean I was not keeping an eye on my patient, far from it, one of those lovely skills psychologist posses is the rare ability to multitask and not miss a detail, well… most details anyway. At least if she moved I would catch it, but I wasn’t counting her blinks of anything of the source. I was about to give up and throw everything aside when…

"I was going to say that next, but I figured I'd see if you would be open about it. Always a good thing to know, anyway. I'm a human. Actually, I'm not. I'm only part human. The rest of me is a plant-insect combination. I can photosynthesize with my fingernails. I'd show you, but it's dark out." she said. I turned my gaze towards her, pondering whether a rude remark or an inquiring question would be best or not, but since I didn’t know her very well and I don’t like to spook away patients on their first visit, I decided to simply push the question forward “And fvat made you come to t’at conclusion?” I inquired, trying to keep my tone of voice polite and gentle, keeping in mind to the certain amount of gentle one can add to words when your canines happen to be rather sharp and menacing.

It was only a few moments of silence before Chatterbox Crazy started talking once more, but at least she was willing to answer the questions. "I skinned my neighbor's cat, it's not like I did it while it was alive, though. I killed it first. She was awfully pissed off at me, though. So we went to court, and then I mentioned werewolves, and then the judge got pissed off at me too. He's probably a werewolf. Anyway, with both of their piss-ed-ness combined, I couldn’t stand a chance." she said, rather willingly of her but still, it didn’t make the fact that she skinned a cat any less. Well killed it first, and then skinned it. The truth of the matter was I would be rather pissed too if she killed LJ, there’s just no other cat like him, I mean, what other cat is allergic to cats? I’ll tell you no one, so, yes, I would be rather pissed if she tried anything with that troublesome cat. “Vell it fvas a rat’er sensible reaction, I fvould’ve been pissed too if you’d kill my cat…” I said with the typical psychiatrist “You better not step within a ten mile radius or my house or the shotgun comes out!” smile.

"He was a really mean cat, though. Honestly." she added. I turned my full attention towards her, trying to decipher if there was something else to this story. But deciding it would be better if she kept up the answers I instead vouched for asking several more questions. But first, even though I didn’t need it I pulled out a piece of paper to pretend to scrawl notes into, it just made it seem like I actually gave a shit about this patient, which I actually do not. But that’s another song for another story. “Dare I ask fhy didja do it?” I asked with a bitter smile, hopefully this patient won’t make me draw every little excruciating detail out of her or else I might just lose my patience, I was never one for patience anyway.

Now I’m wondering if I left some food for Luther Jesus or not…

[henri]

"Well, I was hoping that would be the only reason that you're younger than me yet are paid loads more than I am, that's all," she said in answer to his question, seeming slightly pouty and being rather bold for a human alone in a room with a vampire. Vampires on most occasions thought humans were rather tasty, however Henri was counting on the hope that this vampire did not drink his patients' blood, because after all if he did that he probably wouldn’t have very many returning patients. And if that was the case, he might not be making much loads more than she was. Actually he probably still would be, considering not a lot of people were interested in spending their money on her art. She was a very under noticed artist. A starving artist. An arting starvist. And if you would ask her, she'd tell you how terrible it is to be one of those. It wasn’t something they gave you a degree for, most definitely.

If it was any assurance for her, it didn’t seem as though Dr. Auttenburg intended her any harm. In fact, he was being quite polite. She wasn’t really worried about anything going astray. She worked out and was confident that she'd be able to kick anyone's ass that meant her harm. After all, she was Batman. You couldn’t go around protecting a city if you couldn’t even protect yourself. Hell no!

“Vell it fvas a rat’er sensible reaction, I fvould’ve been pissed too if you’d kill my cat…” Oh boy. He had a cat. Now he probably hated her, knowing that she skinned cats. But it wasn’t all that bad yet, because he hadn't gotten the whole story and once he did he might be slightly more understanding. Or not. Well, she'd just have to see.

"Perfectly understandable, I'd be pissed if my cat was killed, too!" she said, nodding. "He's fat and orange and his name is Sherbert. Uh, anyway. I killed it because I was gonna… uh. Eat it." She grimaced a bit, then dragged a hand down her face to straighten herself out before continuing. "Because I sort of ran out of food. And was really hungry. But I didn’t want to eat my own cat, because I'm rather attached to him, so I decided to eat my neighbor's cat instead. I was even gonna feed some of it to Sherb, 'cause he was pretty hungry too, and I didn’t think he'd mind a bit of cannibalism. He's not very picky. But then I figured there were enough mice running around so he wouldn’t have to go to such nasty extremes, so I'd be the only one eating the cat. The mean, nasty little bugger…"

Right. She had probably just earned herself a big frown or something else undesirable. Human conversation just wasn’t something she excelled at. Or vampire conversation. Same thing, really.

[Dieter Auttenburg]

Well, she wasn’t the mentally healthiest patient around, that was for sure, but neither was she the worst. Though I suppose there’s really not a scale to declare whose crazy and whose crazier, since you either suffer from a mental disorder or you do not, but it was true that I’ve had patient that from the first moment they say my lovely face they wanted to punch my brains out, which really wasn’t all that polite. So in short, it was a nice change to have a patient that simply stay put and talked, though I strongly doubted this would last, mostly due to the fact that she really did not seem like the type whose attention would be caught by merely talking, my office or anything inside it, she would most likely very soon find an excuse to either stand up, shift from position or leave, maybe all three and not necessarily in that order. It was just a matter of time, and if she were to start fidgeting right now it wouldn’t really surprise me, like I said, this wasn’t the type of person that looked like they enjoyed being asked questions, them having to answer them and repeat the whole process all over again.

Then again, I always had this bad habit of just expecting every single patient that came here to do something in some way bad or disappointing, after all we were in a psychologist’s office and I was the psychologist here.

"Well, I was hoping that would be the only reason that you're younger than me yet are paid loads more than I am, that's all," she said, probably as a response to my comment. I chuckled, however, wondering why she should be so worried about my salary, after all, one thing doctors of any kind never where was poor, all kinds of doctors were needed every time, even the crappiest doctor got patients so it really was no surprise, now really good doctors obtained larger salaries, which is probably what she was getting at or suggesting in the first place. “Fhat d’ya fvork on t’en?” I inquired, it was a good thing to know what the other person did for a living and whether they enjoyed it or not, it revealed a lot of their personality which in turn would lead to what was the problem and after all, that was what we were here, to deal with whatever problem had emerged and if I remember correctly this patient wasn’t here willingly, it was a court order in which case she would be either quite willing to answer my questions to get it all over with or completely against the idea and none-cooperative which would suck.

"Perfectly understandable, I'd be pissed if my cat was killed, too! He's fat and orange and his name is Sherbert. Uh, anyway. I killed it because I was gonna… uh. Eat it." she said, her doubt in the end, as if she wasn’t sure of what she was saying made me arch a brow in response. Was she lying or unwilling to talk? Could be anything really and since I didn’t know this patient well I had no way of identifying each specific little sign that indicated that they were lying. I let he continue telling whatever tale she wanted to give at this moment, since it was important that I assess whatever her opinion would be in the matter "Because I sort of ran out of food. And was really hungry. But I didn’t want to eat my own cat, because I'm rather attached to him, so I decided to eat my neighbor's cat instead. I was even gonna feed some of it to Sherb, 'cause he was pretty hungry too, and I didn’t think he'd mind a bit of cannibalism. He's not very picky. But then I figured there were enough mice running around so he wouldn’t have to go to such nasty extremes, so I'd be the only one eating the cat. The mean, nasty little bugger…" she continued, again expressing her dislike for the neighbor’s cat. I remained silent for a minute, trying to find a way to politely shape my next comment, in the end settling for saying: “And, I take it, you fvould not be displeased at all if your nei’bor killed and skinned your cat then planned to eat it?” I inquired, smirking a tad as I did so.


OOC: Sorry for the wait, my Dieter muse is all bleeeeh.

[henri]

"Oh, I'm an artist!" she said, sounding chipper, but then her expression fell slightly as she let the thought sink in. "Except I don't get a lot of people who want my stuff. I think they're all just shy or something. Maybe I need to put up some signs." The thought of her job (or maybe we should just call it a hobby since she hardly ever makes any money) sank in even further, and her expression grew a bit disturbed. She glanced down sideways and at the carpet, focusing on it but not actually seeing it. Something had irked her lately, and she wondered if it was worth mentioning. She decided she might as well, since it was on her mind and in therapy you were usually supposed to say what was on your mind.

"It's funny though," she muttered. "Because sometimes I've got these pictures I don't remember drawing lying around the house. Maybe I sleep-draw or something." She didn’t mention the fact that she found the content of these pictures quite disturbing. But it wasn’t mentioned only because that escaped her as something that could be of any importance.

The girl shifted her position on the couch, her feet growing a bit sweaty inside her boots, and she contemplated taking them off. But the vampire probably would not enjoy the smell of her stinky feet. She wasn’t very fond of that smell herself. At one point Henri had owned a car that smelled like stinky feet whenever she turned on the AC. Before she could get around to convincing herself that the vampire really wouldn’t mind the smell of her smelly feet, she was asked another question.

“And, I take it, you fvould not be displeased at all if your nei’bor killed and skinned your cat then planned to eat it?”

"Oh no, I'd be furious!" she said, then paused. "I guess it doesn't make much sense that I did that then, huh? But that was the reason…" It was, wasn’t it?

OOC: That's perfectly okay. I take a while to reply too. As you can see, rofl. Sorry this is so short!

[Dieter Auttenburg]

Batman didn’t exactly seem like a completely bad or insane person, she at least knew how to behave, if only very little, but it was practically as if she was raised in high society and ate with four different forks and spoons compared to the behavior some of my other patients possessed. Really, there was a line to draw when they started clipping their own toenails in my office; I mean I’d understand chewing fingernails, but toenails? And there was even one which I dubbed as “The Crazy Cat Lady” (because that’s exactly what she was), since she believed her cat was god and that it spoke to her during the night, not only that but she brought in her mangy, diseased cat (and I’m talking missing chunks of ears, scaly skin and patches of fallen fur) into my office demanding that I got near the poor thing and listen to it’s “god-like” voice. Then she claimed the cat was ordering her to elope with her neighbor! Of all the insane things I’ve had here there was perhaps none other more “spiritual” than The Crazy Cat Lady.

"Oh, I'm an artist! Except I don't get a lot of people who want my stuff. I think they're all just shy or something. Maybe I need to put up some signs." she replied, almost sounding hurt when she remembered how poorly her situation was and normally one would expect some kind of pity, but really, what can you expect from me? I was merely there to find out what was insides everyone’s heads, occasionally I would go out of my way to relate with a patient in something that you might refer to as “friendship,” but if I went out of my way to do that it was mostly because I really wanted to know what was insides that bastard’s head, nothing more and probably, nothing less.

“Artist, hmm? What kind of art do you favor? Modern? Digital?” I inquired, smiling almost as if in anticipation. After all, if anything artists were fantastic for my job, why? Well it means they were not only creative in some way but because it meant if I could get a tiny glimpse at one of their works of art I might be able to identify a few details of their personality or perhaps their mood at them time the painting was made. It was almost another science entirely or maybe even, a form of art, to look at someone else’s work and be able to identify various factors that might have inspired the painting. However, before I could ponder more on the possibility my train of thought was interrupted by her words.

"It's funny though, because sometimes I've got these pictures I don't remember drawing lying around the house. Maybe I sleep-draw or something."

“Sleep draw?”

If the previous comment hadn’t attracted my attention this one certainly did.

“Where you under any stress when these happen? Absolutely anything that you remember about doing them?” I forced myself to halt and slow down my questioning and allow her to answer before I kept asking away, nor did I want her to believe she was getting detained for some kind of serious crime that would surely earn her a death sentence. However, there were a lot of questions I wanted to ask at the moment, I just had to take it one at a time. So remember Dieter, one at a time.

After that episode she began shifting in the couch, was she nervous? However it seemed more like there was something in her mind, something she wanted to say but wouldn’t quite spit out, normally I would encourage a patient to simply state what was on her mind but instead I fired another question at her and although it was not done to be mean or anger my patient it was something I feared would be necessary. However, if her incommodities would continue I would lightly encourage her to speak her mind, after all that’s was what we were here for, not for me, but for herself and for Batman to be able to state her feelings and be more open and interactive. It was a necessary step if one ever decided to take a psychiatrist seriously, which sadly, rarely happened.

"Oh no, I'd be furious!" she paused. "I guess it doesn't make much sense that I did that then, huh? But that was the reason…"

I put on my most “try to be truthful or I would not be able to help you,” smile.

“Are you sure that was the only reason? Maybe there’s a reason you aren’t even completely aware of?”

[henri]

"Artist, hmm? What kind of art do you favor? Modern? Digital?"

The corner of Henri's mouth twitched up a bit at this question, the idea of speaking art rather appealing. It wasn’t often she actually talked about what she did, because no one in the area she lived shared her enthusiasm. The last conversation she had had about the subject was with her old art teacher, and that was forever ago, in a galaxy far, far away.

"I like to paint, and I also do digital art," she answered. "But what I've always liked the most is inking things with pens, because I've always meant to make a graphic novel. Except that hasn’t happened yet." It wasn’t as if she had given up before she'd even started, though. She had a story, she just needed to start drawing it out. But if the girl was anything, she was a Queen of Procrastination. A reasonable goal for her to have would be to finish the first chapter within the next year.

"Sleep draw?"

The girl's brow furrowed as she fought to explain. "That's the only thing I can think of calling it," she muttered. "But… They aren't even drawn with the same style. Sometimes I wonder if someone has been sneaking into my house and leaving the stuff there. But why would someone do that?" In trying to answer a question, she had only created more. Nothing annoyed her more than a question she couldn’t answer. Speaking of questions, more were flying her way, except this time from the therapist this time. Which was the way things were supposed to work.

"Were you under any stress when these happen? Absolutely anything that you remember about doing them?"

"Uh, yes, actually. At least, I was the last time it happened. Which wasn’t long ago. Actually, one of those drawings popped up the day I skinned that cat…" She trailed off, mind buzzing. Now that she thought about it, the appearance of one of those disturbing pictures on the same day she'd skinned a cat seemed to be more than just a coincidence. What if they were related somehow?

"Are you sure that was the only reason? Maybe there's a reason you aren't even completely aware of?"

His new question suggested that he had already come to the same conclusion she'd just reached. Either that, or it was just a coincidence. So many of those lately. Henri was starting to doubt her reasoning for skinning that cat. Really, under no circumstances would she normally ever do a thing like that, even if she had run out of food and was hungry. So why had she? She'd seen the cat, skinned and grotesquely mangled… But not eaten.

"Maybe… But I can't think of what that reason might be. Do you have any idea?" The girl was clearly troubled now. If before entering this session she hadn't seen why she should go, now she did. Now that she was actually being urged to think about the situation. Something was very wrong with this whole situation. Funny how situations could take such drastic turns. One minute the biggest worry on her mind was when the session would be over. The next… well, you know.

"This reminds me of those old werewolf myths, where the werewolf doesn't remember what happened when he changes on the full moon. And there are mangled bodies everywhere, but he doesn't remember doing it. Except werewolves don’t skin cats, and they don’t draw pictures. But it's sort of similar, all the same." She looked away from the therapist and at the floor, feeling frustrated that things couldn’t be as simple as she was just a crazy nutcase who had a fetish for skinning cats.

[Dieter Auttenburg]

She seemed pleased to be talking about a familiar subject, talking about one’s work if one was truly passionate about it brought on a spark of talkativeness on everyone, suddenly everyone felt like sharing on those fascinating albeit boring details that filled their life with some spark of joy. In much the same way they would talk about themselves, or their cats, or their kids, or their dogs, or their wife or their spontaneous sex life which no one cared about. But somehow just talking about a familiar subject cheered them up, like being offered a life raft to stubbornly cling on to and I could tell from the smile lingering in her expression that she’d just found her life raft and she was about to stubbornly cling on to it. Familiarity was safe ground, unwanted questions were not and an invitation was all they needed.

"I like to paint, and I also do digital art, but what I've always liked the most is inking things with pens, because I've always meant to make a graphic novel. Except that hasn’t happened yet." she said with a smile. See? Safe.

So she liked a bit of everything but couldn’t bring herself to complete it. A graphic novel took too much time and energy out of you and after all those struggles and efforts to create that piece with an intricate story and artwork representing that very same plot only to have it refused by publisher after publisher each insisting that it was not good enough or not made for them. All those things really did seem like splendidly good reasons why someone should not waste their time and energy on. But it hardly mattered since she was talking about what she liked to do and she had not asked my opinion in which case it was wise to keep your mouth shut and just smile and look pretty. Smile, good. Now try a crooked one, perfect! Now with teeth, good! No teeth, awesome!

But then came the questions.

"That's the only thing I can think of calling it, but … They aren't even drawn with the same style. Sometimes I wonder if someone has been sneaking into my house and leaving the stuff there. But why would someone do that?” her eyes turned towards me as if searching for an explanation. While she had been taking I had stood up from my desk gazed at the books behind me searching for a specific one, drew it out smoothly from the book case and came to the front of the desk, leaning back so I stood in front of her yet my body was comfortably being supported by the desk. I listened carefully towards her words and flipped through the pages of the book not quite looking at the writing but rather the tile of each section. “So it’s different,” I said, a statement not a question.

Another question.

"Uh, yes, actually. At least, I was the last time it happened. Which wasn’t long ago. Actually, one of those drawings popped up the day I skinned that cat…"

Interesting.

“Same day, huh,” I muttered absentmindedly still flipping through the pages of the thick tome masquerading as a simple book. Filing my thoughts and the facts in order so I could precisely make a diagnosis, already the names of some medicine that could help in such situation popping to my head, but were promptly ignored due to the fact that they were not needed, at least not yet. Though my instincts lead me to believe that they would be needed soon so they were not exactly discarded ideas, simply pushed back to let others rise forth. "Maybe… But I can't think of what that reason might be. Do you have any idea?"

“Maybe, it can be too early, I’m not sure…”

"This reminds me of those old werewolf myths, where the werewolf doesn't remember what happened when he changes on the full moon. And there are mangled bodies everywhere, but he doesn't remember doing it. Except werewolves don’t skin cats, and they don’t draw pictures. But it's sort of similar, all the same."

I grunted as a reply, trying to be careful, not wanting to make a mistake yet quite sure I was making the correct decision. But there were still questions to be answered, they needed answering before I could be completely sure. It was a simple fact, procedure, maybe it might be something else entirely and I was simply following a false lead. “Any history that you know of mental illness in your family?” was my next question and I looked up from the book to meet her gaze this time, to let her know that the answer was needed if she could just answer it, it might clear up a few doubts that still remained inside my head. But I wanted and needed to make sure first. “ADD? OCD? Hallucinations? DID?” I suggested helpfully. I hoped she would knew what those were since they were pretty simple and common illnesses one could find in any psychologist’s office, even more so in a psychiatrist’s office since we were licensed to drug you if we found fitting.