Session 1 - Laura (Gabe)

[Dr. Gabriel Hudson]

Gabe watched her with a strangely heady mixture of apprehension, fascination, and concern. She was biting her nails even more now, and Gabe was certain he could see blood. He resisted the urge to tell her to stop; that hadn't worked for others in the past, and it wouldn't work for him now, he suspected. Carefully, he sat up straighter in his chair, resting on elbow on his knee. He was leaning forwards now, but not close enough to put her back up- or he hoped so, at least.

“Laura, I do need you to trust me. I know you'll never trust anyone as much as your uncle-” he paused for a second to allow himself to contemplate this, and hope he was absolutely wrong- “but he's not here, and you need someone to help you, don't you? As for the other woman, she simply told you you were wrong, didn't she? That never helped anyone, so I've got off to a good start there.” He smiled encouragingly at her, fairly certain it would be lost on this teenager. What had her uncle told her, exactly, that had convinced her she was evil?

Then she was speaking again, and he focused all his attention on her. What he heard made him curious, to say the least. He sometimes... what, exactly? Gabe underlined the 'anything else' on his thread, and added a 'convinced she's evil?' The file had said something along those lines, and Gabe had taking it in, but he still wasn't prepared. He'd never encountered a person who honestly believed that they were evil and wished it otherwise in all his years of studying psychology. And now she was telling him she wanted to go home to the man who had made her think this. Sighing, he tapped his pen against his thigh, and spoke quietly to her. “Like I said, Laura. You can't, and I am sorry.”

[Laura Richardson]

Trust… Laura turned the word over in her mind. She needed to trust him? “But if I trust you… I have to be close. Um… sort of… inside close. Not physical close. I’m not allowed.” It was important he understood this bit, the no-closeness bit. It was that that most people didn’t understand. They didn’t like it either which was a pain, because they kept trying to get close, like her foster parents. And she kept having to tell them she couldn’t and no matter what they told her ‘building up an attachment’ was a bad thing.

“You’re not sorry.” Laura said, hollowly, and swallowed hard. There was no bitterness; just what she was sure was the truth. No one was ever really sorry. They said they were, but really they weren’t. Sometimes they didn’t even do that and told her she was better off without him whether she liked it or not. They didn’t like her being with her uncle; they said he was a bad man. He wasn’t really. But they didn’t believe her. No one ever did. It made her sad.

She eyed him again slightly suspiciously. She didn’t really believe he’d help her. Not yet, anyway. But if he could… she shrank away from the thought. It would be painful. More than painful, probably, coming from this man. Agonising. He probably didn’t like her having her feet on the chair, really. But it made her feel better. Only a little, but her other psychiatrist psychologist person kept asking her to either explain it or not do it. And she didn’t want to do either. “Why… would you believe me?” She asked, finally, still quiet, still shaking just a little bit. This was rude. Very rude probably, but no one else had believed her.

Laura wondered of it would be rude to start drawing, then remembered her fingers and decided not to until she was out of here. Biting harder, she looked up and decided she didn’t think Doctor Hudson had noticed, which was good. She squirmed slightly in her seat when she saw him looking back at her and swallowed another mouthful of blood and saliva, trying not to pull a face. An actor Laura was definitely not.

[Dr. Gabriel Hudson]

Great. So she wasn't allowed to trust him. This was getting difficult. And that's why you don't emotionally manipulate your patients, Gabe. Very nicely handled. Hey, let's tell the poor girl you'll sexually abuse her to make her better! And she still doesn't believe you. He left off the mental bollocking, saving it for later. He needed to be attentive now, or she'd file him away as another one of the psychiatrists that didn't listen and didn't care. So he sat in his seat, watching her with extreme, perhaps excessive politeness, his head tilted to one side as he waited for her to continue.

His expression softened as she spoke again. "Laura, believe it or not, I am sorry this has happened to you, but there's no way to convince you, and I'm not going to try." Because I don't want to have to lie to you any more. He would have to convince her to trust him one way or another, though, and so far this method had had some kind of effect, seemingly far more than outright telling her she was wrong or badmouthing her uncle. That was a big no-go area, he knew.

She eyed him again slightly suspiciously. She didn’t really believe he’d help her. Not yet, anyway. But if he could… she shrank away from the thought. It would be painful. More than painful, probably, coming from this man. Agonising. He probably didn’t like her having her feet on the chair, really. But it made her feel better. Only a little, but her other psychiatrist psychologist person kept asking her to either explain it or not do it. And she didn’t want to do either. “Why… would you believe me?” She asked, finally, still quiet, still shaking just a little bit. This was rude. Very rude probably, but no one else had believed her.

"I'd believe you because I don't seem to have any other choice. Telling you you're wrong hasn't had any effect, so maybe you're right. Do you see my logic here?" Again, no good way to convince her, but he tried. And she was practically chewing her fingers off. Gabe itched to reach over the desk and stop her, but he couldn't think of a good reason. He needed to know more about the way her uncle treated her.

[Laura Richardson]

“You think I could be right?” Laura sat up, looking really puzzled. Nobody ever thought she was right, not really. But if someone who knew things about minds, like psychologist psychiatrist people were supposed to, thought she was right maybe other people would listen. There was only one or two details in this whole thing that were bothering her.

“But… if you think I’m right… why did you say I could come?” She put her head slightly to one side and stared at the wall behind him to try and get her thoughts into an order she could explain to other people. “If… um. You could have… told Mike and Fiona I was right.” Maybe he had to meet her first? “They’re my foster… things.” She said awkwardly, in case he didn’t know. Which he probably did. She shrugged awkwardly, the best you could with her fingers in her mouth and carried on chewing. It was really quite painful, which was good. Although she didn’t like it. Luckily it wasn’t her drawing hand.

Laura realised one of the things he had said and stared back down again, biting extra hard to make up for it. “I’m… sorry you don’t feel like… you have choice.” She said hesitantly. “It’s... um. Not a good feeling. I don’t like that.” She wriggled again, and wondered if she could ask to leave again. Deciding against it – people usually got annoyed when you asked them the same thing a third time – she instead looked around for something to talk about that wasn’t her or her supposed ‘issues’. “Um… what’s getting married like?” So it was a random question. But she did sort of want to know, even if it wasn’t going to happen to her. And it wasn’t like the topic was her any more, because she’d never been married and wasn’t likely to get married, what with the evil thing.

[Dr. Gabriel Hudson]

She looked utterly perplexed. Maybe he should have allowed her to convince him; it might have been more subtle, less obvious. It wasn't obvious, was it? He wasn't doing anything that blatantly went against what she was telling her? Gabe ran through the past conversation, and decided he was just worrying unnecessarily. She was biting her fingers harder now, but at least she was looking at him, and that was an improvment. Or at least, he hoped it was. "Yes, Laura. I tink you could be right." Could be. There. It wasn't too much of a lie, was it?

Ah. This he had expected, and at least he had a reply to it. "Because it's my word against a lot of other other psychiatrists, and they wouldn't believe me. If they thought I agreed with you, they'd probably lock me up as well, so I have to be subtle." Please that that satisfy her. He didn't have any better answers, and he wasn't that good at improvisation. He just hoped she wouldn't ask too many other questions- he had some of his own. "Laura, did you uncle tell you anything else helped? Apart from being hurt?" He suddenly realised he had nowhere to go from here. She'd expect him to beat her, and he wouldn't do that. He'd just have to find out exactly what her uncle had done and make it up as he went along. If only he was as talented at acting as some of his students.

"Getting married? It's... stressful. Very loud, there are a lot of people, and everyone makes an enormous fuss. The honeymoon's better. I gives you peace and quiet, and means you get a lot of freedom." And in conventional marriages, sex. But his hadn't been a conventional marriage, and he wouldn't have mentioned that part even if it had been.

[Laura Richardson]

Laura blinked to herself. Someone else thought she could be right? She should smile. She should feel happy someone believed her. She forced some kind of smile onto her face, one which hopefully didn’t look too much like a grimace, and tried to ignore the sick feeling in the pit of her stomach. She could feel the colour draining from her face, which was always bad.

“I… um. Ok.” Laura didn’t want Doctor Hudson locked up, he seemed nice and he didn’t shout or anything. Well, he hadn’t so far. Or touched her, although that would soon change. And that was good, she reminded herself. Always good, if he was going to do it like her uncle had and then she could perhaps keep people from dying. When the nice doctor asked if there was anything else her uncle had done, though, Laura went as white as a sheet. She could tell one lie, and it was obvious to anyone looking at her that this was the one lie. She swallowed hard. He’d said no one. Not even people who said they’d help her. No one. She stared at her knees. “N-no.” It came out as a strange, desperate kind of squeak. And she’d developed a stammer. Excellent. Laura would have been mortified if she hadn’t been paralysed with fear. She was sure he knew. And if he knew he could do that same thing…

Laura bit down hard, trying to bring herself out of her thoughts and accidentally wincing. That had hurt. She refused to look up. She didn’t want to see whichever emotion was scrawled across Doctor Hudson’s face. Any conclusions he was jumping to would be true, if they were the same ones as her other psychologist psychiatrist person had come up with. Laura supposed lying was something you learned by experience. And she didn’t have much of it.

“Why do people… do it?” Laura mumbled, around her fingers. “It doesn’t sound… nice.” She shrugged, eyes still firmly glued to her knees. “You could just… do the honeymoon. Or something.”

[Dr. Gabriel Hudson]

He smiled slightly at her. "But it's not really the honeymoon unless you've gone through the marriage first. Think of it as your reward after going through all that hassle." Put her at her ease, relax her. Talk about things like that to her, so she has something to say to you if she doesn't want to answer your questions.
She grimaced, going pale. She believed him. He felt sick. She actually believed he was going to hurt her. What was he supposed to do now? Finally, he decided what he would do. Deal with her conditions one by one. First, the Stockholm syndrome and the dependent personality disorder; hopefully, the PTSD would fade a little by that time. He scrawled a quick list down in his notepad- SS, then DPD, then PSTD- and looked back at Laura. First, isolate completely from the environment, cut contact with the captor. Give her medication for sleep disturbances, keep her busy so she can't spend as much time thinking about her uncle. Right. "Laura, tell me. Have you been having trouble sleeping? Nightmares, flashbacks, anything like that?" was the change of subject too abrupt? He was steering the conversation away from her uncle and the abuse, which would probably help. He didn't think she'd object too much to that.

Hopefully, if he dealt with the Stockholm syndrome, the PTSD would follow. The two came together quite naturally, so it shouldn't be too hard to deal with them both at the same time. Find out if they're causing sleep disorders, anything like that. Treat the little things, and the big things won't be so big any more. Then you can deal with the rest. And don't abuse her. That's always a good way of building up trust.

[Laura Richardson]

“Oh.” Laura hadn’t thought of the honeymoon that way. She risked a quick look at Doctor Hudson. Maybe he’d believed her? She knew full well she was a terrible liar, but maybe he couldn’t tell the difference?

Or maybe he knew she was lying and was waiting to punish her later…

Laura’s stomach did another back flip and she focussed back in on what Doctor Hudson was saying. She’d need to be extra good for the rest of this session to make up for the lying. Maybe he’d forgive—no, that wasn’t allowed. She didn’t deserve forgiveness. Laura resisted the urge to whack her head on Doctor Hudson’s desk and bit down hard again. What was wrong with her? She was forgetting already. She needed to get back to her uncle/.

As the subject changed the colour began to return to Laura’s face, even if it was a strange question. “Um… yes. Every night.” She fiddled with the hem of her shirt as she spoke around her bleeding nails. She decided that she liked Doctor Hudson more than her last psychiatrist psychologist person. She’d only said Laura was very wrong and ill in her mind and given her some pills. Which she hadn’t taken. Well, she tried in the beginning, but they just wouldn’t go down. In the end she’d given up. She’d never shown that she didn’t take her pills, and her foster parents had believed she did, but it wasn’t lying. They never asked her whether she’d taken them, just checked there was one less pill than yesterday.

Laura had a sneaking suspicion Doctor Hudson was about to give her pills. If he said so she’d need to tell him… not about not taking them unless he asked, though. She didn’t want to be in trouble or anything. Laura carried on chewing her nails, examining her knees closely. She wanted to get out of here soon, unless Doctor Hudson was going to help her now. And she didn’t want pills. Ever.

[Dr. Gabriel Hudson]

"OK, Laura, I'm going to give you a while to settle in. The bad sleeping might just because you've been under some stress lately. And while we're on the subject, how have you been finding St Dympha's so far? Is there anything you want to ask me about?" He leaned back in his seat and watched her politely. There was no harm in getting a little consumer advice, after all. No, wait. Client's opinions. Consumers made his lovely new institute sound like a kind of pie. And while there was a lot of food in the canteen, he didn't think pies were a major part of the menu, and the school definitely wasn't one.

You've been spending way too much time around Jo, grumbled part of his mind. The part that didn't care that she was his wife. Gabe sighed, toying absent-mindedly with his pen as his thoughts turned to Jo. He needed to keep an eye on her, here. At least two students had tried to rape her; a place like this, it was only a matter of time before something else happened. Gabe fumbled with the pen for a few seconds, dropped it on the desk, turned his attention back to Laura with an apologetic smile, and coughed slightly. He left the pen lying where it was.

He knew Laura hadn't spoken; one of the knacks he'd picked up in his years learning and practicing psychology was the ability to listen and take in what other people said while allowing your thoughts to wander off in some completely different direction. His trouble was looking like he was listening. People tended to get annoyed if it looked like their psychiatrist was off in his own little world. He hoped he'd managed not to look too spaced out.

[Laura Richardson]

Laura could easily have said no, her sleeping had been like that since they took her away from her uncle, but she decided not to. She didn’t want any pills. Laura couldn’t swallow pills and she had no idea if this was allowed. Her uncle wouldn’t have allowed it, she was sure. And he knew best. But Laura kept her mouth shut and nodded. No sense in boring him with strange things she couldn’t do. What was next, asking for help with long division?

She chewed her lip and thought about his question. No way to go but the truth. Laura took a deep breath and squeezed her eyes shut, prepared for whatever would come next. “I… don’t like it.” She whispered, waiting for whatever would come next. It was true, she was homesick and sad and she was plotting routes of escape and the main thing stopping her was the fact she wasn’t sure how to get from wherever she was in North Dakota to New York. But she couldn’t say all of that. That would surely be suicide.

As she silently cowered, Laura wondered if she’d be conscious after this. If she wasn’t… she hoped that was it. If you were unconscious you didn’t hurt as badly as when you had to drag yourself into the kitchen and make sure everything still worked… but what did she do here? She wasn’t even sure where the kitchen was in this place. She sucked in a deep breath, still staring at her knees with eyes that were rammed tightly shut. She was not going to cry. This was good, this was what she wanted. Or was she so selfish she couldn’t put others before herself? Laura could feel tears pricking the back of her eyelids and swallowed hard. This wouldn’t… couldn’t end well.

[Dr. Gabriel Hudson]

"Why don't you like it, Laura? Is it the classes, or the other students, or something else?" he asked gently, leaning forwards and propping his elbows up on the desk. At least she was opening up to him, something he wouldn't have expected in the first session. Thinking back, he realised he'd actually made some small progress with her, which was excellent. Her file stated that most of her other psychiatrists had made no progress for a few weeks to start with.

Looking at her, Gabe realised she looked like she was about to cry. He pulled a box of tissues out of a drawer and handed it over carefully. "Is something upsetting you, Laura? You seem distressed." He picked up his pen and resumed twirling it around in his fingers, thinking about taking notes, then decided against it. It might make her even more nervous, which, although apparently not hard, was not what he wanted to be doing. Quite the opposite, in fact. Hopefully, she'd relax over their next few sessions, but he doubted it.

Gabe leaned forwards and smiled at Laura, wondering how long before any kind of improvement was visible. Hopefully, if he dealt with the Stockholm syndrome effectively, the belief system would crumble as well. It read in her files, though, that it had developed into something of it's own, but Gabe hoped that once she had recovered from the Stockholm syndrome she'd be more susceptible to the idea that her uncle was wrong and she wasn't evil. And if that didn't work, he could carry on trying until he got results. He was fairly certain Peter would help him if he asked, but Gabe was loathe to ask his colleague for help. He'd rather figure the case out for himself, despite Peter's superior experience in such things.

[Laura Richardson]

Laura wondered if shrugging was a viable answer to those questions. Probably not. Did he really have to ask why she was crying? It was because the evilness was making her. It was making her cry and think she didn’t want Doctor Hudson to hurt her because it wanted her to hurt people. She wanted what was best for everyone, so she didn’t want that part of her to win. She needed to get rid of it.

Laura took a tissue, but instead of wiping her eyes with it or anything, that would have made it look like she was crying – which she definitely wasn’t. Crying was bad. She was trying to be a good girl and she wasn’t crying, -- she folded into a triangle. Then smaller, then smaller. Wiping her nose on her sleeve, and completely unaware of the irony, she began to gently tear sections of tissue out. A few deep breaths later, she stuffed the torn out bits in her pocket and carefully unfolded the triangle. “Snowflake.” She said softly.

She hadn’t answered his question. That was rude. But… she didn’t want to explain. He might not like it and then… she should explain. “It’s… it’s not home.” She sounded a little steadier, her fingers still itching to draw. She began to gnaw on them with renewed vigour. “And… the bad bit in my head… it doesn’t want me to um… it doesn’t want you to help me. So it’s making me scared. And I feel sad when I’m scared. Sometimes. And I’m not allowed to cry. So it wants me to do that too. I’ll… I mean… it’ll get better. If you help me. Or let me help me.”

Not entirely grammatical, but it answered the question. Now all there was to do was wait and see. And pray Doctor Hudson wasn’t too angry she was listening to the evil. It was hard… she couldn’t help it sometimes. She was lots better than she used to be. Not that Doctor Hudson knew that. And she shouldn’t tell him. She was ashamed of how she’d let the evil rule her when she was younger.

[Dr. Gabriel Hudson]

He smiled at the snowflake. No wonder she'd been accepted, she was very talented, by all accounts. "That's great, Laura." He listened to the rest of her words with a slight frown, trying not to look too worried in front of his patient. She was chewing on her fingers again, and Gabe wondered how he could stop that. Maybe distract her with something... Art was her thing, right? He could work with that. Once she had finished, he nodded, sat back in his chair, and rifled through a drawer. Pulling out a piece of paper and a pencil, he pushed them across the desk to her, saying "Laura, would you like to draw me something? It can be anything you want. I was thinking, I need something to put up on my walls in here." He hoped this was the right thing to do: he wanted to put her at her ease, and stop her chewing on her fingers. Drawing was probably a good bet, seeing as it was her only hobby and the thing she liked doing the most.

Sitting back in his chair, he folded his arms and smiled encouragingly at her, wondering what she'd produce for him. He'd never been much good at art, preferring scientific subjects, and it had always impressed him how people could draw something realistic just from memory. But then, he'd always wondered why those people had trouble with long division, something he'd excelled at. Everyone had their own thing, he supposed, but it was still very impressive. Or, maybe he was easily impressed. no, she'd been considered gifted enough to deserve a place here, which meant surely she was well above the average ability for her age. He was certain he'd be pleased with what she drew him.

[Laura Richardson]

Laura noticed Gabe’s tiny frown and stared at her knees. She’d thought admitting that she was just homesick would be alright. She hadn’t meant to make anyone any kind of worried or concerned or anything. Casting around for a way to make it all better, Laura opened her mouth and began to talk without actually having anything to say. “Um… I meant…” her voice died as she realised she had absolutely no idea what she meant. Except what she said. It was true. There was a large part of her that was evil and didn’t want people to help her like she needed them to.

She nodded gratefully and took the paper. Tapping the pencil on the desk a couple of times, Laura bit her tongue to stop herself asking what he wanted her to draw. He said anything… “Is um… sort of… a forest ok?” well, at least she’d come up with her own idea. Doctor Hudson looked like a foresty sort of person. Not everyone liked forests. For a moment Laura tried to imagine him lying on a beach and failed miserably with a small smile. She didn’t say anything, though. That would be cheeky.

To draw this she was going to have to take her fingers out of her mouth, Laura realised. Sucking hard and swallowing a final mouthful of blood and saliva (urgh) Laura carefully removed them from her mouth, wiped them on her jumper and picked up the pencil, pointedly ignoring what she’d done. The fingers were red raw, chapped and bleeding. They looked at least as painful as they were, which was the reason Laura was ignoring them. She knew from long experience what they’d look like… and that if you refused to look at something sometimes other people didn’t look either.

Settling her fingers around the pencil, Laura bent over the paper and began to draw, carefully. Maybe if she looked busy Doctor Hudson wouldn’t ask her any more questions. She could feel the tension leaking out of her body as she drew, smiling gently to herself.

[Dr. Gabriel Hudson]

OK, so the part of her that she called 'evil' actually seemed to be a sense of self-preservation. Or common sense. He made a note in the file in his usual illegible handwriting - evil: sense of self-pres. - and turned his attention back to the little blonde girl who was now drawing on the paper. "A forest would be lovely, Laura," he told her warmly, folding his hands on the desk and watching her draw. Her nails looked awful, shredded to pieces by her teeth. He wondered if she'd accept some medical care for them, but decided probably not. It was worth a try, though. "Laura, would you like something to go on your nails? They look painful," he asked her carefully.

As he watched, he noticed that she seemed a lot happier when she was drawing, smiling slightly as though suddenly oblivious the world around her. That was good; it was something he could use in the future to calm her down. He made another note in his file. Drawing: calms down, enjoys. He sat there, elbows resting on the desk as he watched Laura drawing happily, satisfied that he'd managed to avoid a major breakdown during their first session. That was never good, Gabe reasoned, and didn't set a good foundation for their next sessions. So he sat in silence for a few minutes, watching her draw. After a moment, though, he decided to talk again. "How long have you enjoyed drawing, Laura? When did you first start?" Hopefully, those questions wouldn't be too high stress for her. He didn't want to have to handle another near breakdown, or he'd end up with enough drawings to paper his entire office. Then again, that was quite likely anyway, by the end of the year. Maybe he'd just have to store some of them.