Page 13 of Release Me

The door opens, and the exotic smell of bourbon and vanilla I smelled just before I fainted this morning hits my nose. I look up into his dark stare, my eyes widening with unease, and I swallow nervously.

Except him.

“Hello, Brynn,” he says, his voice like butter.

I manage to compose myself and force my normal stoic personality back to the forefront before replying.

“What’s up, doc?” I ask as I step past him and sit on the same sofa I was on earlier this morning.

I watch as he shuts the door and takes his seat.

“It’s nice to officially meet you,” he begins. “My name is Dr. RichardDunningtonand—”

“Your name is Dr.Dick?!” I laugh loudly.

He acts completely unphased by my outburst and continues talking. I am not used to this. I am used to people being afraid of me, nervous around me, wondering if and when I am going to snap on them. It was the only thing I looked forward to during my sessions with Dr. Lewis.

“I am going to be replacing Dr. Lewis as your therapist.”

“Aww, why? Was it something I did?”

He doesn’t answer but writes something down in his notes. I narrow my eyes at him, but he doesn’t see it.

“I’ve received your case file, and I may refer back to it from time to time, but I’d like to get to know you through conversation rather than through someone else’s notes. Although, if I’m being honest, a large portion of what I read, I found to be incredibly… intriguing.”

“Yeah, well, don’t get tooexcitedbecause Lewis is both a cunt and a liar.”

He didn’t even try and hold back his smug grin.

“Soyou didn’t,” he stands up from his chair and retrieves a thicker folder from his desk. Opening it up, he reads directly from one of the pages in it, “stand on her desk, rubbing your clit furiously until you came all over the surfaceof it?”

He looks up at me as he sits back in his chair. He isbrazen, but his cheekiness doesn’t have anything on mine.

“No,” I cock an eyebrow and fold my arms together, effectivelydisplaying my attitude. “Isquatted.”

“Oh, I see. Yes, that isquitea difference.”

He continues reading the chart.

“What about where she wrote that you threw a pencil at her face, narrowly missing her eye?”

“I was twirling it around. It’s a nervous habit of mine. I accidentally twirled it too fast once.”

“I see,” he replies, stone-faced.

“And when you,” he looks back down at the folder, brows furrowed in concentration, trying to find something else to list.

After a moment, he snickers to himself and speaks again.

“Spiked her coffee with contraband eye drops? Was that an accident, too?”

“Well… not exactly,” I remark somewhat truthfully.

“Soit seems to me that, though Dr. Lewis may be acunt, she isn’texactlya liar?”

“Whatever, she’s stupid,” I spit, like a child with a severe vocabulary deficiency. With my arms still crossed, I look around the room at everything other than him.

“It’s nice to know I am dealing with an adult, Ms. Holliday,” he throws at me. “Shall we get down to business?”

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