Session 1 - Laura (Gabe)

[Laura Richardson]

Laura chewed her nails and scuffed her toes against the floor. She didn't want to do therapy. She didn't need any therapy anyway. She just needed people to believe her, and she’d written it down on her application and everything. But she was still here, so maybe they didn’t believe her. Not that that made a lot of difference. Nobody else did either. Except that her foster parents had sent her away this time, and they’d promised she was going to stay with them. So they’d lied.

Raising her hand to knock on the door, Laura hesitated. She remembered the conversation on the computer with those people, and then security grabbing her. She’d got upset about that, she’d only been doing what she was told, and that was good, wasn’t it? It hadn’t interfered with the rules, until security had grabbed her and that had made her scream. Security hadn’t been watching the conversation… Laura wondered how they’d known. It wasn’t as if she’d told anyone she was going to find out of her fingers would fit in a socket or anything. Maybe they just knew what to look for.

Laura folded her arms and decided she definitely wasn’t going in. The psychiatrist psychologist person could come and get her if he really wanted, but she wasn’t going in on her own. Definitely not. But what if they touched her? Apprehension crept into her mind. Touching would be worse. She should go in. Probably. Laura’s uncle had never told her what to do about psychiatrist psychologist people, so she used the rules for policemen. If they asked you things, you could answer but you had to be careful because they’d make you do things that you didn’t want to do. She’d messed those rules up when she’d first met policemen and she wasn’t going to do it again. Well, not if she could help it.

Finally, Laura raised the hand that wasn’t in her mouth and knocked, adjusting her sketchbook under her arm. She’d brought it with her because she didn’t want to leave it anywhere, but it was beginning to look like a bad idea. What if he wanted to see? Sure, it was only pictures of birds and trees and things, but he’d probably find some kind of meaning she didn’t want and wasn’t right. Fidgeting from foot to foot, Laura waited for an answer and wondered if it was too late to go and hide under a table somewhere.

[Dr. Gabriel Hudson]

Gabe put his pen down from carefully copying up therapy notes, and placed them in his draw to finish later, leaving his desk bare, save his name-plaque and Laura Richardson's file. “Come in,” he called, leaning back in his chair and waiting for the patient to enter. He had been intrigued by the file; it was a case he had seen plenty of times before, but rarely with these kind of connotations. The girl seemed to believe that she had some kind of death touch, therefore refusing all and any physical contact.
The appointment had been jumped for wards a day, due to her attempt to commit suicide. The report had been sketchy, but he knew that

two students -and he was willing to bet he could guess which two- had told her to go and stick her fingers in an electric socket, killing herself. A fourth student in the chat – one of his patients, Jessica Air- had called security, who had arrived just in time to stop the suicide. Gabe rubbed his lower lip with a thumb, an unconscious gesture that manifested the most when he was thinking, hard. How would he deal with this patient?
Well, he'd start off the way he always did. As she entered, he stood, and indicated the chair opposite his desk. “Laura Richardson? My name is Dr. Hudson, your psychiatrist. How are you feeling today?”
She carried a sketchpad under her arm; he remembered from the file that she was a keen artist, and one with much talent. He went to hold out his hand for her to shake, remembered the file, and quickly straightened her file to cover the gesture. Sitting down once more, he toyed with his pen as he waited for an answer, eyes meeting and holding hers with a steady gaze.

[Laura Richardson]

Laura wandered into the room and hesitated before shutting the door behind her. It probably wasn't too late to run away and hide... Taking a deep breath, she turned towards the desk and saw the psychiatrist. Hesitating a second, (How was he so tall? Was that possible? Maybe he was standing on something?) She decided that, even if getting hurt would help her be less evil for a while, messing with this person would be a bad idea. And he was a psychiatrist psychologist person, which meant only bad things… Laura tried to ignore the niggling feeling that she was actually afraid of this man, and sat down, staring at her knees.

“It… says so. On your desk.” Laura pointed, then quickly stopped as she realised her finger was shaking. There was another question. “I’m ok thank you how are you?” There was absolutely no pausing in the sentence, just a need to get it all out so she could work out what he wanted. Maybe she’d need to explain again… maybe he’d believe her? Laura stared obstinately at her knees, swinging her feet a bit. Humming a snatch of Lucy in the sky with diamonds made her feel a little better, as did going back to biting her nails. He hadn’t tried to touch her which was always a good start. Didn’t mean he wasn’t going to try of course, but for a start it was good. He’d want to know about the whole computer thing, she was sure. She was supposed to be here tomorrow, but they’d told her she had to come today instead.

Deciding to get it out of the way, before he had to mention it, Laura muttered “I didn’t want to do it…” Her fingers were returned to her mouth and she stared at the floor, trying to pick a different thing to talk about. Maybe he would just leave it there. They both knew what she was talking about, after all. “Do you like coffee?” She asked abruptly. All the adults she’d known liked coffee, but it was a question all the same. And it wasn’t about her which was good. As Laura chewed her nails she rocked slightly from side to side. This was really awkward… “Um… can I go? Please?” She’d answered the proper question, surely. Laura knew it was a long shot that he’d let her, but if you didn’t ask you never knew, did you?

[Dr. Gabriel Hudson]

Gabe sat across the desk from his newest charge and gazed intently at her, watching her for all and any signs of distress. It wasn't a fruitless search, either. She was biting her nails, shaking, staring down and refusing to meet his eyes. He relaxed in his chair, slipping down a little bit. He had seen her eyes widen when he stood; it was a reaction many had to his height, and he knew the signs well. She was clinging tightly to her sketchpad, and humming, and he had a vague idea that she didn't want to be there.
“I know it does, but it's the polite thing to do, no?” he said in reply to her comment, still watching her carefully. She was talking, at least. He had had students who were so scared of him, or of talking to him, that they had refused to speak at all, which made his life extremely difficult. She was speaking again, and he listened politely.
“Yes, I do like coffee. I had some this morning. If you didn't want to do it, why didn't you tell them so? They might have changed their minds. And Jess told you not to, and as the most sympathetic student in chat, surely she would have been the one most worth obeying, no?”
He didn't bother asking why; the depend ant personality disorder. He had met students like this before. Upon arrival at a new place, they would do anything anyone told them to, and keep doing it until it was drilled into their heads not to, or until they had settled down. Or until they had picked one person to obey, and one person only. He hoped, this time, it would be one of the first options.
He spoke briskly, expecting her to keep up. He didn't mind explaining something to someone more than once; in fact, he expected it, but he hated to come across as patronizing, or waste time explaining to someone who understood him anyway.

[Laura Richardson]

Was it the polite thing to do? If Laura knew his name already, was she supposed to tell him hers? “I’m Laura.” She said, just in case, going a bit pink. She felt silly, but if he was going to tell her his name when she knew it, she might as well do the same thing. Laura swung her legs some more and wondered if she could go yet. She didn’t want to be stuck in a small room with a person who wanted to ask her things she didn’t know or couldn’t answer. And the whole time she had to be careful not to get close to him, emotionally or physically. Which was a pain. Physically wasn’t such a problem, but the emotionally bit had always confused her. It was worrying. What if she did it wrong?

Laura very nearly sighed. Running up against the rules was always interesting. “I can’t…” She needed to tell him what she couldn’t, she remembered a few seconds later. “I mean I can’t… tell people. That I don’t want to. I’m not allowed. It’s in the rules.” Laura blushed for a second and then turned pale. The rules had caused a lot of trouble with her last psychiatrist. She hadn’t liked them much, and Laura was sure Doctor Hudson wouldn’t be happy with them either. She wasn’t totally sure why people hated them so much, but it didn’t help that she kept mentioning them all over the place. “And she didn’t… seem like she knew. What to do. As much, I mean… and there were more of them… and it didn’t… um. I could do it. It’s… the rules don’t say no.” Laura was prepared to write Doctor Hudson off as not understanding at all. Nobody else seemed to, which was frustrating.

She’d also noticed he didn’t answer her question about going. Maybe he hadn’t heard… “Um… I… I’d really like to go now…” Laura stared at her feet in case he was angry. Her fingers were back in her mouth and being chewed at the same rate seen on your average squirrel. She was nervous of this man, no amount of lying to herself would change that, but there was no reason to act like she was. Pathetic…

[Dr. Gabriel Hudson]

“No,” Gabe said softly. “I'm afraid you can't go yet, Laura. Which rules are you talking about?” This could be interesting. He presumed they were the 'rules' set down by her uncle, the abusive man who'd managed to cause her condition in the first place. Her previous psychiatrist hadn't made much headway with her case, and Gabe intended to do far better. Laura would take careful handling, so he kept his voice soft and even as he added, “Do the rules say you have to do what the majority of people tell you to do? Is that why you did what those two told you to, not Jess?”
He stayed back in his seat; physical contact, even coming close to it, was a big no-no for this case. Apparently, she had panic attacks and was convinced that people she touched died, or became seriously ill or injured. She was obviously scared enough of him, with having him lean on the desk, much closer to her. So he stayed back in his seat, arms folded, watching her intently. Every time she raised her gaze, he caught and held it until she dropped her eyes to her knees once again. He could tell she was prepared to write him off as the same as her previous psychiatrist, and he was determined not to let that happen. He wouldn't fail, not with one of his first cases at St Dympha's. “Wait. Before we do anything else, can you tell me exactly what the rules say? I'd like to know, before we really get started. It might help me to understand a bit better.” No slagging off the rules. Apparently, the last psychiatrist had made that mistake. “Who taught you them? Your uncle?” He carefully flicked open the file, scanning it for any mention of her uncle as he spoke. It sounded like her uncle was the only one she trusted- not for any good reason he could see, but he was fairly convinced she had one (or thought she did) – and so, these rules were most likely his doing.

[Laura Richardson]

Laura’s shoulders drooped when Doctor Hudson told her she couldn’t leave. Why not? She was tempted to ask why not, and promise to be good, not that it had ever worked anywhere else, but she could try again she supposed. First time for everything and all that. “I can’t tell you.” Laura said, fed up of these questions already. The hand not occupied with her teeth was plucking at her sleeves, and she had to resist the urge to hum Because to herself. She had to calm down or something bad would probably happen. Like that feeling when she couldn’t breathe or move and her heart raced. That was bad.

“And… the rules. I just have to… do what they say. And if I did what Jess said I would have been… breaking lots of rules.” She wasn’t even sure she was supposed to be telling him this. “Why can’t I… go back to my uncle? He was making me better, and not evil and nobody believes me…” Laura curled her knees up to her chest and slid down in her chair so he couldn’t see her face. She didn’t want him to know if she started crying. And her legs were going to stay put until he told her otherwise. She shouldn’t have asked. But she was homesick and sad and she wanted to go home. “I don’t understand…” She mumbled, getting a mouthful of finger instead of nail. Now he couldn’t see her it was safer to cause herself some pain, offset a tiny bit of evil.

Of course her uncle had given her her rules. They were her rules, no one else had to follow them, as she was the only evil person in the world. But it made her lonely sometimes, and people touched her here, and tried to make her do things that went against the rules and got annoyed when she couldn’t do it. Laura sighed at her knees and bit back her tears. No point crying when it was so dangerous, even if it did feel like she had really bad tummy ache from wanting to go home.

[Dr. Gabriel Hudson]

Gabe frowned as she curled up. This wasn't going well, not well at all. She wasn't supposed to have a panic attack – at least, not yet. Maybe if he started asking her really intrusive questions. Sighing, he chewed gently on his thumb, deliberating his next words. “Laura, listen. I am trying to make you better, and I know your uncle was the only one who was making any progress with that. But I'm afraid you can't go back to him, so you'll have to make do with me, OK? I know it feels private to you, but if you could just tell me what the rules are, I'll be able to help a lot more. So I want you feel like you can tell me, or you'll be evil for the next few years until you can go back to your uncle.” Maybe not the best tactic, he thought, but the words were out now. Besides, trying to convince her otherwise apparently hadn't worked, and he had three years to do his best with her. He could backtrack, he was good at that.
He sat there, toying with his lip, waiting for her to respond. It wasn't as though he had asked much of her, but then, maybe it felt like a lot. He had seen cases of Stockholm syndrome before, and while this method was frowned on, it often worked with the more serious cases. Convince them that you could replace the one you'd become emotionally attached to, pick up where they left off... more or less. They never lost the affection, never felt it for you, but it seemed to give a few of them some comfort. And so he waited for some kind of reaction, telling him whether his slightly less-than-professional attitude had had any effect on her.

[Laura Richardson]

Laura was suspicious. Her last psychiatrist psychologist person had settled for just telling her she was wrong in every conceivable way… someone offering to help her was new. “You… can’t make me better.” Laura’s voice was quiet, but firm for the first time. She knew what she was talking about, and she was sticking to it. “Why can’t I go back now?” If he really wanted to help her, Laura reasoned, he’s let her go home. None of the others had wanted to help her, and they’d refused to let her go back. If Doctor Hudson was different he’d let her, right?

Laura winced as she remembered the last sentence, and wondered if that counted as a threat. She didn’t want to be evil. That would be insane. But she couldn’t tell him either, he might get hurt. If people got hurt when she broke the rules, she couldn’t imagine what would happen if she told someone the rules. And her uncle had told her he was the only one who could help. “My last… person told me my uncle’s never getting out of prison.” Her voice was surprisingly steady. She was trying to ask if he was lying to her about being able to go back, but as she wasn’t really supposed to ask questions, she’d just have to give clues. That had upset her, and she’d refused to go to any more sessions after that. She was sure her psychiatrist psychologist person had been happy about that. Laura was sure she’d never liked her, which was fair enough. Who’d want to like someone evil? They’d made her go anyway, and Laura had refused to speak. She wondered if she should point out that if he didn’t know the rules there was no way he could help her.

“Can’t… um. If you told them… my uncle wasn’t bad. They’d let him go….” Laura was sureish about that. If this man really was as good at things as he was supposed to be, he could get it so her uncle was allowed to be with her. “You wouldn’t have to… put up with me.” Laura’s fingers were still in her mouth, her cuticles beginning to bleed. She was sure that that would not go over well, no matter how open minded this shrink was. She’d bet her last pencil he wouldn’t let her hurt herself either…

[Dr. Gabriel Hudson]

The girl was biting down on her fingers, but her voice wasn't shaking any more. Gabe couldn't decide if this was a good thing or a bad thing. 'You... can't make me better,' she told him, sounding absolutely certain. Then she asked to leave again. She really didn't want to be here. Well, a downright lie was better than failure, in some situations. “I would if I could, Laura, but it's against the rules. My rules. I'm not allowed. I'm sorry. So while you're here, I'm going to do my best to make you better, as much as I can. If anything, it'll make your uncle's life easier when you see him again. Surely you'd want that for him, after all he's done for you?” Inwardly, Gabe sighed. You know you're desperate when you're using emotional manipulation on your patients. Outwardly, he stayed back in his seat, totally relaxed, gazing at her seriously, dark eyes fixed on the top of her head, which was all he could see above her knees.
She spoke again, her voice soft and quiet, scared. Well. That just blew my last few sentences out of the water. “Maybe not, Laura, but you'll be able to see him once you've finished this school. I'm afraid I don't know.” And now she was asking him to get her abusive uncle out of jail? Gabe was impatiently biting down on the tip of his thumb now, hoping that this tactic, unorthodox as it was, would have some kind of effect. If not, he'd have to go back to conventional methods, and they didn't seem to work well on this girl.
Frowning, he shook his head. “Laura, they wouldn't listen to me. Seeing as I didn't know either of you that well at all, they wouldn't believe that I have any authority to get your uncle released.” This session wasn't what he'd expected. Of course, they rarely were, but he'd had a very bad day and his patience was wearing thin, not that he'd let it show. If only her bastard uncle was in the room right now, maybe he'd be able to take out some of his frustration...

[Laura Richardson]

Not allowed? In Laura’s mind adults were still fairly all-powerful. It was one of those things you learned from the world, and Laura’s world had been limited to her uncle for four years. And he was pretty powerful, especially where his niece was concerned. Laura’s eyes began to get that glossed-over shiny look they got when people were about to cry and she sniffed, biting down on her finger even harder, tasting blood. That stopped the tears, but she kept doing it anyway. Swallowing her own blood, mixed with saliva, wasn’t pleasant, but it was better than having it go everywhere and people touching it. Slowly, she nodded. “Yes… but… what if we get it wrong?”

“You could... try…” Laura mumbled half-heartedly, most of her mouth occupied with biting her finger. She knew he wouldn’t, but she thought she might as well give it a go. Laura was still unsure what this person would do. She was half convinced he was lying to her, and if that was the case she’d know because it wouldn’t work with the rules in her head. She quickly recited them in her mind and was satisfied she’d remembered them all. “She said I couldn’t send letters either.” Laura added, miserably. She hadn’t really meant to say that bit out loud, but if she could send him a letter, he could help.

Laura squirmed on her seat and wondered what the important thing to say would be. It was scary to think someone who wasn’t her uncle was going to try and make her better. She peeked over the top of her knees to look at him again. He looked like he might hurt a lot more than Uncle Kenneth. She felt sick. “Will you help me… like my uncle helped me?” She asked, disappearing behind her knees again. The very idea made her feel ill, and yet that was what she needed. Like taking medicine. The only thing to do would be to be silent and find somewhere she could crawl afterwards. Part of her hoped he’d say no. But if he did, it meant he was lying to her.

[Dr. Gabriel Hudson]

The girl was sniffing like she was about to cry, but she soon stopped. Gabe suspected she was biting her hand to stop the tears, and made a quick note on his pad. Self-harming? Look into. He wondered how much persuasion it would take to get her to calm down and talk to him without her hand in her mouth, and decided he didn't like the answer. He tapped his pen against his thigh, waiting for her to finish her muffled sentence.
“You'd have to tell me what you needed me to do,” he told her quietly. “Or I won't know where to start.” This was difficult. He was walking a fine line, and he knew it. If she found out he was lying, he'd lose her; on the other hand, he didn't want to inadvertently become a substitute abuser for her uncle. Gabe couldn't figure out which was worse, to be honest.
She carried on mumbling, and the words made him feel sick. She meant hitting her, it seemed. But in case he was wrong, he'd have to be very careful around this area. “I don't know, Laura. You'd have to tell me how he did it. What did he do to help you?”
As for sending letters, he could cope with that easily enough. “I'm afraid you aren't allowed to contact him. If you were, maybe I'd be able to get some tips on how to help you, but I'm not allowed either.” She was staring at him with wide, terrified eyes, and he felt furious. The bastard of a man had made her think the only way to get better was to beat her. Gabe vowed to help her, any way he could. Sitting there, staring across the desk at the huddled figure, he felt nothing but pity for her. Her life had been destroyed by someone so selfish, he had convinced her she couldn't touch, make friends, or live a normal life.

[Laura Richardson]

Laura breathed a shaky breath. She had to think about this. If this man was lying to her, he might use whatever she told him against her uncle. She wasn’t sure what more they could do to him, he was already in prison forever and ever, but there was probably something. Taking her fingers out of her mouth, she examined them, raw, bitten and bleeding as she thought and then stuck them back in her mouth. She decided to sort of try. Even if he was lying, she wouldn’t give him a lot. Just a little bit. But… Laura cut off her own thought and opened her mouth to speak.

“Um… if…” Her words were still muffled behind her fingers. He could see her now, maybe, she couldn’t take them out of her mouth in case he saw the blood and made a fuss about it. “If you touch me. And it’s… not very nice. That helps.” There. That said nothing about hurting people or… Or the other thing, the one she was allowed to lie about. Laura shivered. She didn’t like being hurt or anything, not by any stretch of the imagination. But if it stopped her being able to murder people by touching them or being near them, she was all for it. Usually. Doctor Hudson looked strong. Like he could hurt her without thinking about it. Not that he would.

Laura locked her tears somewhere far deep down inside and hoped for an answer either way. An answer that would mean he would… or one that meant he wouldn’t. “If you don’t… know.” Laura said, shakily. It was bad to accuse people of anything, she knew, but she wanted to be sure. “You could… um… be… lying to me…” The last three words were almost in audible and Laura’s whole body seemed to curl tighter, as if waiting for a punch or a kick. Even the nicest people got upset when you didn’t believe them.

[Dr. Gabriel Hudson]

She was considering it. Gabe wasn't sure whether to be pleased or worried about that, so he settled for a combination of both. He stopped biting his thumb- the skin around his nail was coming loose, and if he wasn't careful he'd end up with a bleeding thumb. One person with bleeding digits was enough for this therapy room. Toying with his pen as he waited for her to speak, Gabe wondered how long he'd have to wait until she'd been recovered enough to accept her uncle wasn't getting near her again. Probably a while, maybe even longer than she was at this school. If she had to go to another psychiatrist before she was at least partway recovered, he suspected she wouldn't cope. He'd just have to do his best with her.

She was speaking again, her words muffled by her fingertips, still jammed into her mouth. He was fairly sure she was biting herself, but he couldn't see very well, and he wasn't going to spoil this by asking if she was bleeding. He was in a precarious position, and it was easy to see how he could slip up by asking the wrong things. She he continued toying with his pen and examining her face, keeping his mask of puzzled politeness

Touch her? If it's not nice? Gabe's fingers twitched, and he fumbled with his pen to keep from dropping it. She was asking him to... what? Beat her? Rape her? Either way, he wasn't going to do it. He scribbled a note in his pad- uncle- Beats? Anything else? Find out more. There. Seemed innocent enough, if she ever did read the notes. Not that he'd let her. And now she was speaking again, telling him he could be lying to her. He was, but she couldn't know that. He shrugged at her. “Yes, Laura, I could be lying to you, and there's no way to prove I'm not. But if I was like the psychiatrist, surely I would have started by telling you you're wrong, just like the rest? I am here to help you, believe it or not.” There. Not the reply he'd have liked, and he wasn't sure what conclusions she'd draw from it, but he didn't want to come up with too many lies. That was be to complex. “Is there anything else your uncle did that made you better? I know you don't trust me, but the only way I can help you is if you try.”

[Laura Richardson]

“You might not.” Laura’s fingers were bleeding quite a lot now. Not enough to get worried about like the times her foster parents had walked in early when she had managed to get hold of a carving knife, but still quite a lot. Oops. She still didn’t stop biting, it hurt more the more you did it. And she needed to be hurt. A lot. Or she’d never get better. “The other doctor lady said she was helping. And she wasn’t.” Laura was still quite suspicious, if only because Gabe was a psychiatrist psychologist person. She didn’t like them. Every one she’d met had been annoying or scary.

“I…” Laura swallowed hard. She didn’t want to tell him. He might do what her uncle did. Or he might not. She had no idea which would be worse. “He sometimes…” No. She wasn’t allowed to tell anyone about that. Nobody at all. “Just… what I said. Before.” She stared at her lap and self-consciously rubbed the scars on her arm, wondering what she was doing wrong. She needed help. Then she realised her fingers had come out of her mouth and stuck them back in again, hoping Doctor Hudson hadn’t noticed. It would be and if he had noticed. And he was right, she didn’t trust him. And now she was afraid of him. “If I don’t, I’ll hurt people.” She knew this, the words were quietly sure of themselves. “I don’t want anyone else to die.”

It was true. She really didn’t. Laura waited for Doctor Hudson to roll his eyes and tell her not to be silly like the last one, and hummed a bit more of Lucy In the Sky With Diamonds. It usually did the trick as far as calming her down went. She sighed and what was in her mind hopped out of her mouth again. “I want to go home.” Laura turned the same colour as a beetroot. She hadn’t meant for that to happen. “Sorry, I… I didn’t mean…”