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"So, how was your week, Hannah?"

My psychiatrist was an old cougar of a woman, attractive in her own way, with curly, cherubic hair that used to be blonde, and a face with all the noble lines of the old colonial families; she could have been my Nana, if she were fifteen years older and a little meaner. The woman--Dr Howards-Dirscht was her name--was well-off, too, judging by her office; not Bishop Avenue well-off, but she dressed well and lived comfortably, which is more than my mother could ever have said about herself during her lifetime. This, too, was the first time I remember noticing any of this about the woman.

I swallowed the lump of self-scorn rising in my throat and returned the psychiatrist's expectant gaze. "Honestly?" She nodded, and I combed a hand through my hair. "I have no idea how my week was. Or the week before that, or last month. It's all a big, grey blur, like the lake on a cloudy day...except for yesterday, I went out for lunch with Holly. Why? What do I usually say about my week?"

The doctor didn't answer at first, ignoring me in favor of her notepad and the chicken-scratch she was scribbling on it. I was beginning to reconsider any good opinions I might have had about therapy when she let out a breath she was holding and looked up at me. "You don't remember?" I shrugged, looked away, out a window that looked over a sparsely-populated parking lot; I guessed it made more sense to get your troubles off your chest on a Friday rather than a Monday, before your regularly-scheduled weekend debauchery, instead of after it. Dr Howards waited for me to meet her eyes again before continuing: "You usually just say you're 'fine'--"she made quite unprofessional air-quotes with her fingers--"and then try to change the subject. At least, that's when you manage to articulate a response at all--two weeks ago, you just intoned an affirmative grunt."

I couldn't help but snicker at that. I shifted in my seat, a preemptive defense against the sleep I could feel crawling up my leg. "So why do you keep asking?"

"Why did you answer differently today?" She fixed me with her gaze, a friendly challenge in the smile we shared. "But, if you prefer, I could always cop out and say it's my job, and your father--"

"My foster-father?"

She cleared her throat. "Yes, of course, my mistake. He's paying handsomely for your treatment, and I'd be remiss if I weren't to at least go through the motions with you. Would you be more comfortable with that answer?"

I felt my lips tug my smile a fraction wider. "No, not at all. But it would help feed my preconceptions about psychiatry."

"Now, now." She waggled her pen at me, mock-scolding, but there was a light in her eyes. Maybe she had just been going through the motions before, but she was starting to like me. Well and good, I supposed--I was starting to like her, too. "I'd also be remiss if I didn't point out that this is the first time you've mentioned your sister during any of our sessions. Is there something there that you want to talk about?"

I could feel myself clamming up again, but I willed the walls to fall back. After all, Susan and Jerry were paying 'handsomely' for me to have someone to talk to, so talking was the least I could do. "I guess...I kind of feel like I let my life slip away for a while. After..."

"After your mother died?" she offered.

I swallowed, but shook my head. "My mother's been dead, for all intents and purposes, since my eighth birthday. It's just that it took six years for the reality to set in." Dr Howards frowned at that, but didn't say anything, just wrote more notes in her notepad. "Anyway, after that, everything just, kind of, faded away. I crawled inside myself and hid there, while everything just kind of kept going without me. Life moves on, you know? Except I wasn't in it, and I missed things happening. Like Holly, she has a boyfriend now?"

Dr Howards quirked an eyebrow at me. "Do you not approve of the boyfriend, or her dating in general?"

The question stopped me in my tracks, and I was the stereotypical deer-in-the-headlights for a moment, before bursting into laughter so deep I had to hold my head in my hands to keep it from falling off my shoulders. "No, I approve. I mean, I set them up together, how could I not approve? I just...it was a shock, you know? Just waking up one day and everything around you is still the same, but it's different. I just wasn't expecting them to be so serious with each other."

The psychiatrist nodded, but again, remained silent. I waited a moment to be sure, finally letting it sink in that she was waiting for me to continue. Belligerent as I am, I changed the subject. "And I think, I don't know. This whole phase or whatever that I was going through, it really took a toll on Susan and Jerry. They're barely talking to each other. And I know that it's not entirely my fault, but I know that a big part of it is. Holly says that they're better already, after one day, than they've been for months. Thanks to me, apparently. I don't see it. And she's down on herself now because apparently I'm the big hero, when I'm really the villain, and she's tried to keep them busy and happy and whatever and they've been...less than responsive."

"Holly told you this?"

"Not in so many words." I shrugged. "She doesn't need to. We can read each other like a book. She gets this little twitch in her eye when she's struggling with something she thinks she can't deal with on her own. She won't believe she's as strong as she is." I laughed, then, and shook my head. "No one will, now that I think about it. Everyone thinks I'm the strong one, my sister's keeper, like I have to protect her, like she needs protection. When I'm the one that ran away from everything, and she took care of me. But no one sees that...not even Dad."

I nearly choked when I heard myself say it. That was not something I wanted to talk about, no matter how much the Petersons were paying this woman. I think the revelation surprised Dr Howards just as much as it did me, because she wore a stunned look for a second too long, before finally collecting herself. "You've been speaking with your father?"

Crap. I was stuck in it now. I sighed, shook my head. "No, I don't...I don't think I'm ready to do that. I'm not sure if I'll ever be ready, or if I'll ever even want to. I opened his letters, though. Two nights ago."

"Your birthday?" I nodded. "May I ask what they said?"

Deep breath, Hannah, deep breath. "Nothing, really. He apologized for killing my mother, and wished me well. I only read two of them, the first one he sent right after he went to prison, and the last one he sent before Mom--" I laughed, quite inappropriately, remembering my promise to my Nana--"before she left the hospital. He hasn't written since then. Thankfully."

Dr Howards' eyebrow quirked again. The affectation was beginning to get on my nerves. "Hannah, I know you're harboring a lot of resentment, maybe even hatred, for your father, but--"

"He said that last fight between him and Mom was because Mom was trying to take us away from him. He didn't exactly make for an inspiring role model, and a huge part of me wishes she actually had taken us away. But...I can't shake this feeling, like...I don't know. I'm assuming you've read my files? I'd be lying if I told you I'm at all able to act any differently."

"What are you talking about?"

"Amylynn Oakley?" I motioned to the manilla folder on her desk that I knew held my records in it. She picked it up and started rifling through the papers. "Is it a little sick that I still remember her name? I don't know. Anyway, she didn't really steal my crayon, she was just...collateral damage. I didn't even know her, God knows she didn't deserve what I did to her. But if I got myself expelled, held back a year, I'd be in the same class as Holly. And, as it turns out, her then-future boyfriend."

Dr Howards' eyes went wide while she read the pertinent papers, and she stared up at me, horrified. I raised my arms in surrender. "I'm off that, now. Holly did need my protection, then. My mother could tell you how much she needed it, if she was still alive, but I guess that in itself backs up my point a little." I shrugged. "Anyway, I'm just saying, I know what it's like to need your family with you. It makes me sick to even think about, but if that's really the reason they were arguing, the reason he hit her, I just don't have it in me to blame him as much as I know I should. What I meant was, I'm thankful he didn't write for Holly's sake. I don't know what she would have done. She would have freaked out. Worse than I did."

Dr Howards met my gaze, and held it. "I thought she didn't need your protection?"

Description
"So, how was your week, Hannah?"

My psychiatrist was an old cougar of a woman, attractive in her own way, with curly, cherubic hair that used to be blonde, and a face with all the noble lines of the old colonial families; she could have been my Nana, if she were fifteen years older and a little meaner. The woman--Dr Howards-Dirscht was her name--was well-off, too, judging by her office; not Bishop Avenue well-off, but she dressed well and lived comfortably, which is more than my mother could ever have said about herself during her lifetime. This, too, was the first time I remember noticing any of this about the woman.

I swallowed the lump of self-scorn rising in my throat and returned the psychiatrist's expectant gaze. "Honestly?" She nodded, and I combed a hand through my hair. "I have no idea how my week was. Or the week before that, or last month. It's all a big, grey blur, like the lake on a cloudy day...except for yesterday, I went out for lunch with Holly. Why? What do I usually say about my week?"

The doctor didn't answer at first, ignoring me in favor of her notepad and the chicken-scratch she was scribbling on it. I was beginning to reconsider any good opinions I might have had about therapy when she let out a breath she was holding and looked up at me. "You don't remember?" I shrugged, looked away, out a window that looked over a sparsely-populated parking lot; I guessed it made more sense to get your troubles off your chest on a Friday rather than a Monday, before your regularly-scheduled weekend debauchery, instead of after it. Dr Howards waited for me to meet her eyes again before continuing: "You usually just say you're 'fine'--"she made quite unprofessional air-quotes with her fingers--"and then try to change the subject. At least, that's when you manage to articulate a response at all--two weeks ago, you just intoned an affirmative grunt."

I couldn't help but snicker at that. I shifted in my seat, a preemptive defense against the sleep I could feel crawling up my leg. "So why do you keep asking?"

"Why did you answer differently today?" She fixed me with her gaze, a friendly challenge in the smile we shared. "But, if you prefer, I could always cop out and say it's my job, and your father--"

"My foster-father?"

She cleared her throat. "Yes, of course, my mistake. He's paying handsomely for your treatment, and I'd be remiss if I weren't to at least go through the motions with you. Would you be more comfortable with that answer?"

I felt my lips tug my smile a fraction wider. "No, not at all. But it would help feed my preconceptions about psychiatry."

"Now, now." She waggled her pen at me, mock-scolding, but there was a light in her eyes. Maybe she had just been going through the motions before, but she was starting to like me. Well and good, I supposed--I was starting to like her, too. "I'd also be remiss if I didn't point out that this is the first time you've mentioned your sister during any of our sessions. Is there something there that you want to talk about?"

I could feel myself clamming up again, but I willed the walls to fall back. After all, Susan and Jerry were paying 'handsomely' for me to have someone to talk to, so talking was the least I could do. "I guess...I kind of feel like I let my life slip away for a while. After..."

"After your mother died?" she offered.

I swallowed, but shook my head. "My mother's been dead, for all intents and purposes, since my eighth birthday. It's just that it took six years for the reality to set in." Dr Howards frowned at that, but didn't say anything, just wrote more notes in her notepad. "Anyway, after that, everything just, kind of, faded away. I crawled inside myself and hid there, while everything just kind of kept going without me. Life moves on, you know? Except I wasn't in it, and I missed things happening. Like Holly, she has a boyfriend now?"

Dr Howards quirked an eyebrow at me. "Do you not approve of the boyfriend, or her dating in general?"

The question stopped me in my tracks, and I was the stereotypical deer-in-the-headlights for a moment, before bursting into laughter so deep I had to hold my head in my hands to keep it from falling off my shoulders. "No, I approve. I mean, I set them up together, how could I not approve? I just...it was a shock, you know? Just waking up one day and everything around you is still the same, but it's different. I just wasn't expecting them to be so serious with each other."

The psychiatrist nodded, but again, remained silent. I waited a moment to be sure, finally letting it sink in that she was waiting for me to continue. Belligerent as I am, I changed the subject. "And I think, I don't know. This whole phase or whatever that I was going through, it really took a toll on Susan and Jerry. They're barely talking to each other. And I know that it's not entirely my fault, but I know that a big part of it is. Holly says that they're better already, after one day, than they've been for months. Thanks to me, apparently. I don't see it. And she's down on herself now because apparently I'm the big hero, when I'm really the villain, and she's tried to keep them busy and happy and whatever and they've been...less than responsive."

"Holly told you this?"

"Not in so many words." I shrugged. "She doesn't need to. We can read each other like a book. She gets this little twitch in her eye when she's struggling with something she thinks she can't deal with on her own. She won't believe she's as strong as she is." I laughed, then, and shook my head. "No one will, now that I think about it. Everyone thinks I'm the strong one, my sister's keeper, like I have to protect her, like she needs protection. When I'm the one that ran away from everything, and she took care of me. But no one sees that...not even Dad."

I nearly choked when I heard myself say it. That was not something I wanted to talk about, no matter how much the Petersons were paying this woman. I think the revelation surprised Dr Howards just as much as it did me, because she wore a stunned look for a second too long, before finally collecting herself. "You've been speaking with your father?"

Crap. I was stuck in it now. I sighed, shook my head. "No, I don't...I don't think I'm ready to do that. I'm not sure if I'll ever be ready, or if I'll ever even want to. I opened his letters, though. Two nights ago."

"Your birthday?" I nodded. "May I ask what they said?"

Deep breath, Hannah, deep breath. "Nothing, really. He apologized for killing my mother, and wished me well. I only read two of them, the first one he sent right after he went to prison, and the last one he sent before Mom--" I laughed, quite inappropriately, remembering my promise to my Nana--"before she left the hospital. He hasn't written since then. Thankfully."

Dr Howards' eyebrow quirked again. The affectation was beginning to get on my nerves. "Hannah, I know you're harboring a lot of resentment, maybe even hatred, for your father, but--"

"He said that last fight between him and Mom was because Mom was trying to take us away from him. He didn't exactly make for an inspiring role model, and a huge part of me wishes she actually had taken us away. But...I can't shake this feeling, like...I don't know. I'm assuming you've read my files? I'd be lying if I told you I'm at all able to act any differently."

"What are you talking about?"

"Amylynn Oakley?" I motioned to the manilla folder on her desk that I knew held my records in it. She picked it up and started rifling through the papers. "Is it a little sick that I still remember her name? I don't know. Anyway, she didn't really steal my crayon, she was just...collateral damage. I didn't even know her, God knows she didn't deserve what I did to her. But if I got myself expelled, held back a year, I'd be in the same class as Holly. And, as it turns out, her then-future boyfriend."

Dr Howards' eyes went wide while she read the pertinent papers, and she stared up at me, horrified. I raised my arms in surrender. "I'm off that, now. Holly did need my protection, then. My mother could tell you how much she needed it, if she was still alive, but I guess that in itself backs up my point a little." I shrugged. "Anyway, I'm just saying, I know what it's like to need your family with you. It makes me sick to even think about, but if that's really the reason they were arguing, the reason he hit her, I just don't have it in me to blame him as much as I know I should. What I meant was, I'm thankful he didn't write for Holly's sake. I don't know what she would have done. She would have freaked out. Worse than I did."

Dr Howards met my gaze, and held it. "I thought she didn't need your protection?"