Page 214 of Naughty Nelle

Shrink flutters closer to me. “How do you know that?”

I close my eyes and see my mother all dressed up, leaning into her mirror. In a scarlet (her favorite color) dress, cinched tightly to accentuate her tiny waist and plump up her breasts; her thick, dark hair draping her shoulders like a cape; her thin, painted red lips pursed. “The only thing she ever kissed was her own reflection.”

“Ah, you’re referring to the mirror in your story.”

I bite my quivering lip and nod.

“Did your mother spend a lot of time in front of this mirror?”

I nod again.

“Jane, your mother was addicted to beauty. She was a narcissist.”

I’m in no mood for her fancy Shrink-speak words.

“Your mother’s narcissism explains your addiction to beauty. You, like your mother, are a narcissist.”

“Stop it!” I cup my ears, remembering how she and Grimm tried to trick Hook into admitting he was an alcoholic like his father.

“Jane, parents are role models. We model our behavior after them. Even if we hate the things they do. You need to admit that you’re a narcissist to recover from your addiction.”

“I’m not my mother!”

“No, Jane, you’re not your mother.”

“I’m better than my mother!”

“Is that what you wanted your mother’s mirror to say when you played make-believe with it?”

“I wanted it to tell me I was beautiful! And it did!”

Shrinks hovers over me and looks directly into my eyes.

“Remember, Jane, your mirror wasn’t magic. It didn’t talk. That’s what you wanted to hear. You imagined it saying you were beautiful because no one ever made you feel that way. Because no one ever loved you.”

Her words come at me like a shower of spears. Sobs shake my body. I hate Shrink! I want this session to end.

As if I willed it, the chime sounds.

“Jane, your story might say ‘The End,’ but we’ve got a long way to go. I’ll see you here tomorrow.”

I retreat to my room, collapse on my bed, and stare blankly at the crumbling ceiling. It’s as if all my blood has been drained from inside me. I’m sorry now that I opened up to Shrink about my past. She’s using it to torture me, not help me. She still wants to prove that I was delusional about my magic mirror. And it’s wearing me down.

I have no appetite for lunch and decide to skip group as well. I’m in no mood to be shot down by Grimm and a troupe of loonies. Hunger finally gets the better of me, and I show up for dinner. Hook brushes up against me as I listlessly work my way down the buffet table.

“Yo, Jane, where were you during group? We missed you.”

“None of your business.”

“Well, you missed a good session. My matey Rump finally remembered something about the queen he extorted. They’re going to let him out of this joint any day.”

Rump’s getting out too?A new wave of depression washes over me.

I push past the swine and take a seat at a table by myself. I’m not up for any conversation, especially with any of these nutcases.

Half-way through my meal, the boy with the parsnip nose sits down next to me. Pinocchio. What does he want?

He stares at me with his sad puppy eyes. “I want to tell you that you’re beautiful.”

---