R E C K L E S S . . .

CHAPTER FORTY-THREE

When the psychiatrist walked in I was sat at the edge of a large, soft armchair, looking around the room with a growing sense of foreboding.  My foot was tapping anxiously on the polished wooden floor and my eyes were flitting around the small, white office in a desperate attempt to find an escape.

She came in through the only door, the very one that I’d been led through a few minutes before when my mum had dragged me to see her. The police had insisted that I see a psychiatrist at least once, and I’d managed to avoid it for far too long in their opinion. The incident with the cat had been the last straw – I’d been pretty much proved insane in my parents’ eyes when they had run into my room to see me standing over my dead cat and screaming.

“Anne, I’m so glad that you’ve come to see me,” she said warmly. “I’m Doctor Helyer.”

I didn’t meet her eyes. Instead, my gaze settled on the large window that lay behind her immaculate cherry wood desk, deciding that it was my best chance of escape if anything happened. It showed a view of the long, grassy lawn that stretched out behind the building.

She sat down in the identical chair next to mine, though her pose was as different from mine as it could be – she sank into the plush cushions, looking relaxed, and she was inclined slightly towards me as if we were in a close conversation. "Are you okay?” she asked, smiling kindly.

Doctor Helyer was young, perhaps in her mid or early twenties. She had perfectly straight strawberry blonde hair that went down just below her shoulders, fanning across the white material of her blouse, which was tucked into a pair of dark, high-waisted jeans. She looked perfectly at home in the clean, bright, business-like interior of her office.

“I think you must’ve pretty much established the fact that I’m not okay, since I’m here,” I murmured. I looked her directly in her murky green eyes. “As a matter of fact, I think that everyone has decided I’m insane, regardless of what I tell them.”

“Why do they think that?” she asked. Her elbows were resting on her knees, her hands cradling her head. She leaned closer towards me, looking intrigued.

“The police have told you already, not to mention my own family. I shouldn’t have to recite all the reasons why people think I’m mad.”

“Officer Colon seemed to think that you were blaming these deaths and attacks around your school on something… supernatural.”

“And what if I did?”

“Do you honestly believe that there’s something unnatural about this killer?”

“I think that any killer is unnatural to be honest, Doctor Helyer.”

“But unnatural to a point that they’re not human?”

“As I said; any killer is inhuman in my eyes.”

“So you’re saying that what you told Officer Colon was a mistake? You believe that these attacks were done by a human, but it was an inhumane thing to do.”

“No. That’s not what I said to him.”

She reached for the end table beside her and picked up a previously untouched pad. She quickly scribbled something down with a biro from her pocket and then looked back up at me. “You’re being evasive,” she said, though more as an observation than an accusation.

“I don’t see why you should know anything about this. You’re hardly going to be any help,” I told her. “I’m not insane.”

“Nobody said you were insane. Stop talking like the whole world is convinced that you are.”

“Then why am I being forced to go here?”

The psychiatrist sighed. “Let’s drop the subject of the supernatural for now,” she said. “What about a few days ago – your mum told me about what happened to the family cat. How did it happen?”

“If you think that I killed the cat then you’re as mad as they think I am.”

“I’m not here to accuse you,” she said patiently. “I’m here to help. Why don’t you tell me a little about what happened that night?”

“I was out, I came back inside, I went to my room, I saw the cat,” I listed blandly. “I screamed when I saw her and my dad ran in. We cleaned up and buried her in the garden the next day.”

“Had anything happened that day that had angered you, maybe? Was anything wrong at home?”

“Nothing.”

“And you can remember what happened all day?”

“Are you suggesting that I subconsciously killed my cat?” I said, in a tone as light as hers. “You think that I can’t remember doing it?”

“I’m suggesting that you maybe didn’t have control of your emotions or body that day. I’ve seen people who do terrible things without knowing it.”

I snorted. “Where have you seen that – in horror movies? Do you think I’m possessed or something?”

She scribbled something else down on the pad. I wished that I could lean over and read those notes, see what I appeared to be to her. I had no doubt that she’d already decided I was mad from the moment that we’d met each other.

“No. I don’t think you’re possessed,” she told me. “But things like this do happen. I’m sure you know about sleep walking – who’s to say something like that wouldn’t happen to you?”

“I wasn’t asleep.”

“I don’t think that you understand what I’m saying.”

“I don’t think that you understand what I’m saying.”

She sighed. “I’m trying to,” she said.

How could I possibly tell her that Chris had done it without seeming even more messed up? I leant back in my chair, sinking into the soft pillows. “Can we skip this topic? I’m getting bored.”

Her green eyes focussed on me intently. “Okay,” she said finally. “We’ll resume that subject later. What about the deaths of your English and Maths teachers? How do you feel about that? – especially after finding the latter’s body.”

“You’ve done your research.”

“Officer Colon keeps me well updated. Now answer the question.”

I rolled my eyes. “Well there’s no distracting you,” I said sarcastically.

“Stop fooling around, Anne. Being this aggressive won’t help you in any way. I’m only trying to help.”

I sighed heavily. “How do you expect me to feel about finding a body? It wasn’t exactly the best experience of my life, but I’m trying to move on. These questions aren’t exactly helping me to do that.”

“Your English teacher died the same way as her. The coroners examined the bodies and they showed identical marks, both were completely drained of blood.”

“And you think that a person did this? Maybe you should be the one opening your mind up, because these deaths aren’t human.”

“A human did the killing. It’s been confirmed by the coroners,” she said with conviction. “It’s thought that a wild animal mauled each body afterwards – there have been sightings in the woods around your school, and similar animal attacks have been going on for the past year.”

I leaned forwards in my seat, gripping the arms of the chair. “This isn’t the work of a human or an animal. This is something much scarier.”

She was too wise to stop me in my tracks with some dismissive or spiteful comment. I was finally getting to the point of confessing my supposed insanity and she didn’t want to interrupt it. “What do you think did it?” she encouraged me.

“Vampire did it. In fact, I know it was vampires.”

“Vampires are the stuff of legend. They’re a story that people tell their children, characters to put in movies and books, things to dress up as on Halloween – they’re not actually real,” she said patiently.

“But it all adds up and you know it.”

“This is what you said to Officer Colon, isn’t it?”

“He didn’t believe me either.”

“Because it’s not true.”

“How do you know?”

“Let’s be rational here, Anne. I think that we’d know if these blood sucking creatures existed.”

“We’re humans. We naturally choose to ignore what we don’t understand. We dismiss all the unnatural things that happen in our lives in favour for a more rational excuse, even if it’s clearly untrue. As a race, we are blissfully ignorant of the things that go on around us.”

Another note was scribbled down on the pad. “Is this what you think?” said Doctor Helyer as she wrote, her eyes focussed on the paper.

“Of course it is, otherwise I wouldn’t be saying it. I wasn’t dragged here to spout lies. I’m supposed to be telling you what I think and feel – so here I am, telling you.”

“I was hoping that this was part of some elaborate, morbid joke that you’ve been playing… but you really do believe in this whole supernatural thing.”

“You say that like it’s a bad thing.”

“I’m worried about you, Anne. I’ve been talking to your school and your family, and you’ve been showing signs of paranoia, anxiety… even as far as the symptoms of early schizophrenia. Now that I’ve talked to you today I have to admit that there’s something wrong.”

My stomach dropped. “The only thing that’s wrong is that nobody will believe what I say,” I said desperately. “I know what I saw!”

“Are you sure they haven’t just been hallucinations? You might be having trouble differentiating your imagination from reality.”

“No.”

Suddenly, she rose up out of the chair and strode over to the row of filing cabinets that almost filled up an entire wall of the office. She opened a draw and took out a cardboard folder with my name printed boldly on it in large letters. Closing the draw back up, she strode back over to me and returned to her seat.

As she opened the folder I saw that it was full to the brim with crumpled notes and papers. Obviously she’d been doing her research on me for a long time, even though this was the first time we’d met.

After about half a minute of quiet, with only the rustle of paper to break the silence, she drew out a piece of paper and handed it to me. I took it automatically and glanced down. With a start I realised that it was a photocopy of my art project. There were several pictures on the sheet – fangs and blood, dark eyes and vampires.

“Why do you have this?”

“You’re an imaginative girl, Anne, and this clearly shows what you’ve been thinking about. This work, along with your conviction about these vampires, shows signs of obsession. It’s very likely that your imagination might’ve crossed over into what you think is your reality.”

I crossed my arms. “This is an art project. You can’t seriously diagnose me because of a few drawings.”

“I’m not diagnosing you, I’m just pointing out that this is highly possible,” she said. “Listen; you’ve got all the prodromal symptoms of schizophrenia, and while it’s too early to tell it’s a serious possibility that you might suffer from it or some other kind of mental disorder in the future there’s a very high chance that you’ll be needing my help for a long time.”

“You’ve known me for about ten minutes; you can’t be serious about this.”

“I’ve already looked at your records and other things. I’ve talked to the people around you. They all agree that you’ve become more withdrawn, more paranoid. You’re discontent with the world around you and you seem depressed, less motivated than before.”

I wondered who she’d talked to and if they’d been as eager as it seemed to make me seem mad. I squeezed my eyes shut. “But it’s not because I have a mental disorder. It’s because of what’s been happening,” I insisted. “You don’t understand. Of course I’m going to change after what’s happened to me – I’ve found dead bodies, my friends and I have been attacked. You’d think that I was insane if I hadn’t changed after everything that I’ve been through. I can’t win.”

“All the same-“

I shot up off my seat. “Enough. I’m not going to let you lecture me about how insane I am.”

“That’s not what I’m doing.”

“I’m done with this.”

Doctor Helyer stood up as well, turning fluidly to face me. “Fine,” she said calmly. “We’ll continue this conversation at your next appointment. I want you to feel comfortable with these sessions, Anne. It’s important for us to cooperate.”

“I’m not just done with this session in particular. I mean that I’m done with this whole thing. I’m not going to see you anymore if all you’re going to do is distrust me.” I walked away from her, across the office, and flung open the door that I had been itching to run out of for the whole session. I slammed it shut behind me, stopping her from calling after me.

My mum was sat in the waiting room on a plush chair similar to the ones in the psychiatrist’s office, reading a glossy magazine from the large pile on the table in front of her. She got to her feet as she saw me approaching, closing the magazine and placing it back on the pile.

“All done?” she asked.

“Yes. We’re leaving.”

“Is Doctor Helyer okay with that?” she asked, raising an eyebrow. “She told me that she’d come out to talk with me afterwards.”

I cursed internally. She knew me too well to believe in what I was saying, and my angry demeanour did nothing to convince her of my words. It was blindingly apparent that Doctor Helyer wasn’t okay with me leaving, and that I wasn’t in the mood to talk rationally.

“Anne,” my mum sighed. “She’s trying to help you. Get back inside the office so I don’t have to drag you there.”

“I’m not going back in there.”

It seemed like I didn’t have to, because at that moment the click of heels on the wooden floors announced the arrival of Doctor Helyer. I turned around to see her striding down the corridor to join us in the waiting room, a calm expression on her face. “You shouldn’t have left so suddenly, Anne,” she said. “Even if you want to end today’s appointment we still have a few technicalities to discuss with your mum about what we’ve discussed today and what’s going to happen next.”

“What’s going to happen next?” I echoed. “Don’t I just go on living my life normally until my next appointment – if I choose to actually go to the next one, that is?”

“No, Anne,” she said. There was an unconvincing, strained smile plastered on her face. “We haven’t had long together but I’m already concerned. We’re going to have to make some arrangements, maybe set some limitations.”

“Limitations?”

My mum lowered herself to her seat again, her face set in an expression of grim acceptance. She’d never thought that she would end up taking her child to a psychologist. “So what’s going to happen, Doctor Helyer?” she asked.

The psychologist sat down in the seat across from her. She glanced up at me, assuming that I would take a seat as well, but I stayed standing. I crossed my arms.

“Firstly, you’re going to have to keep an eye on Anne. I’d suggest that you keep her close, don’t let her out on her own. Even if she is okay, she seems to run into trouble so much that it would be a good thing anyway,” she said, smiling. “You might also want to fix a lock onto her door. It’s not unheard of for children to attack their parents while they’re sleeping – those who display the same symptoms as Anne, at least.”

“You’re going to keep me caged up? Do you seriously think that I would attack my family?”

They both ignored me. My mum still had the same grim look on her face, her eyes focussed solely on the psychiatrist.

Doctor Helyer continued. “Secondly, I don’t think it’s wise for Anne to be taking her exams right now. All the extra stress won’t help her one bit and visiting the school where she’s taking them might trigger her, since it’s where most of the previous incidents have happened.”

Incidents? Didn’t she mean murders? And what was this about me not taking my exams? Chris had now not only ruined my happiness and social life, but my education as well. I wouldn’t be able to go to college next year without proper results… I’d probably have to retake the whole year. I’d miss out on seeing Sam and Claire during the exam period when I was allowed in the school, and I wouldn’t even have the chance to go to school with them next year.

I hated Doctor Helyer for this proposition. I hated Chris for causing it. I hated myself for provoking Chris. I hated the hunters for not being able to kill the supernaturals in the first place.

“I’d advise that Anne take her exams next year when things have settled and we’ve got to the bottom of what’s happening,” she continued. “I’m sure that a year is enough time to sort this out, or at least figure out Anne’s problem.”

“My problem is that there’s someone out there murdering the people at that school,” I said coldly. “I hardly think that psychoanalysing me or taking my life away from me will help them.”

She paused. “The police are investigating that possibility,” she said carefully. “But there’s a possibility that there might be something else going on. That the murderer isn’t who you think.”

I bloody well knew that Chris was the murderer, but that wouldn’t make me any saner in her view. ‘This crazy homicidal vampire called Chris did it!’ I imagined myself saying, but somehow that exclamation didn’t end too well.

“Anyway,” Doctor Helyer said after a significant silence. “I’m going to send through a request to withdraw Anne from her exams this year, and we’ll need to organise more appointments – I’d like to have three sessions a week at least.”

“What about I bring her back here tomorrow and on Saturday? Is that okay?”

“I’m sure I’m free those days,” she said, smiling widely. “How about at three o’clock?”

“That sounds perfect. We’ll see you tomorrow,” my mum replied, standing up. “If you need to rearrange just call me up – it’s no problem at all.”

“We should arrange a regular schedule for these sessions tomorrow. I’m sure that I’ll be seeing Anne here for a while.”

My mum nodded as she picked up her handbag. “Thank you for what you’re doing, Doctor Helyer. I really appreciate you taking the time to see Anne. It’s been a tough few months for her.”

She smiled again. “No problem. It’s my job, after all.”

I was in no way thankful for Doctor Helyer’s session, but I refrained from pointing that out. Instead I started for the exit, not waiting to see if my mum was following. I didn’t look back till I reached the car, not wanting to see the psychiatrist’s face again. I felt so angry with her that it burned out anything else I might’ve been feeling.

My mum joined me a few seconds later, walking quickly out of the building and into the parking lot. We climbed into the car in silence, neither of us wanting to talk about my supposedly fragile mental state, and stayed that way till we reached home.

As soon as the car jolted to a halt outside our house I flung the door open and started towards the front door. As usual I climbed over the broken gate, avoiding all the old toys and garden tools that were scattered across the grass, and stopped at the front door to wait for my mum to come with the door key.

I knew that my dad and brother were probably inside if they weren’t late getting back from school, but I didn’t feel like alerting them that I was home. My dad would be obliged to show interest in the sessions, which he would rather ignore to keep himself happy, and Evan would be curious about where I’d been if I didn’t distract him quickly. We’d all decided that it was better to keep Evan in the dark about what I was going through. My dad and I had just about hidden the scene with Sasha in my bedroom from him, and from what we knew he was oblivious to why I had screamed that night.

She took her time at the broken gate, still convinced that it would magically spring open if she waited long