Session 1 [Leah]

[Dr. Gabriel Hudson]

Gabe tapped his pen against the bronze plaque on his desk, announcing him as Doctor Hudson, making an irritating clicking sound each time the two came into contact. He soon stopped, deigning instead to rearrange his notepad and pencils. Every now and then, he would check his watch, tapping his foot in impatience. Gabriel Hudson was, as a rule, a very patient man, but this was just one of those days. He had spent the day beating up one of his students, receiving a few bruises for his trouble, then explaining to his wife about sexual innuendos. Now, he had nothing to do and very little temper, and while it was only five to four, so the student he should be seeing wasn't late yet, he was growing impatient.
In an effort to keep himself occupied for the last five minutes (which seemed to drag on more than any amount of time had a right to, let alone one so innocent as five minutes), he went through her file again. Leah Wright was a girl who had been diagnosed with obsessive love, obsessive compulsive disorder, and bouts of depression, and Gabe was anticipating having a long-term case to sink his teeth into. Metaphorically. He had never before had a patient with these particular conditions, but he had thoroughly studied the subject; he had even written a paper on it, one which went on the become very successful in some psychologically interested circles, but he had never before been fully responsible for a patient with such an extreme condition, and he intended to be successful. He knew he could handle the case well enough, but still. He appreciated the challenge.There was a soft knock on the door, and he jumped and checked his watch. Five minutes had passed. He quickly closed and neatened her file, adjusted his tie, and called out, “Come in.”
The girl entered, and he indicated the seat, eyes appraising her with a trained eye. Straight, dark hair, dark eyes, a pink top, and jeans. An average-looking teenage girl. They always were.

[Leah Wright]

Leah wandered in the general direction of the therapy rooms, taking her time deliberately. She wasn't particularly keen on therapists. They tended to want her to talk about her past, which wasn't something she enjoyed talking about, and then they got annoyed when she didn't want to tell them the gory details of exactly how it had felt when her boyfriend had pushed her down the stairs and broke her ribs. That was the main reason she had lied to her old therapist about what had happened in between getting pushed down the stairs and the ambulance being called. Well, technically the main reason was that Mark said he'd kill her if she told. But aside from that; she just didn't want to talk about it, so she lied about it.

Technically, however, Leah told herself, she hadn't lied. Just..not mentioned something that would have gotten her ex-boyfriend jailed for longer. And technically, that was an obstruction of the law, or some crap, but she didn't care. It wasn't like Mark was going to tell anyone, was he? Frowning to herself, she knocked gently on the door. He probably was going to boast about his...'conquest', to be fair. Sick, sadistic bastard. As she was summoned into the room, she took a deep breath, trying to cleanse herself of all ugly-Mark related memories. She crossed the room and seated herself slowly, not waiting to be told to sit. She was tired - nightmares - and wasn't looking forward to being cross-examined about stuff she didn't care about.

" Hi. " She spoke quietly, feeling the therapist watching her, and wondered how much information she was giving away in that one little word. Probably a lot, she decided. Therapists liked doing that; analyzing every expression to cross your face, and then deciding stupid things based on this. To be fair though, her last psychiatrist was incredibly incompetent. She was surprised that he hadn't worked out that she was lying; and there she went again. Thinking about that. Hoping that her thoughts didn't show on her face, she leaned back in her chair and looked around the almost-bare room lazily. Plain walls, tidy desk... None of it interested her. If, say, the walls were bright pink with rainbows painted on them, then she might have been more interested in her surroundings. and slightly worried (scared, even) that her therapist was insane. But still; it was a good idea. She smirked at the thought - Dr. Hudson's face if he came down to his office one day to find that scene, painted all over his walls (and ceiling, if they could reach). It'd be brilliant.

Deciding that she might as well jump right in with all the crap he was going to ask about sooner or later, she sighed and tilted her head, staring right at the male. " Okay, your names Doctor Hudson, I already know. Mine's Leah. I've been diagnosed with - well, you can see it in my file. My boyfriend broke my leg and I went to a mental hospital, and I attacked my girlfriend. That everything you need? 'Cause I have better things to be doing. " Hoping - but doubting - the psychiatrist would just nod, she stared at him defiantly.

[Dr. Gabriel Hudson]

His patient entered shyly, looking at him with a mix of wariness and anxiety. He watched as she sat down in front of him, then, just as he opened his mouth to speak, she spoke quickly. He smiled slightly at her, one eyebrow lifting slightly. "Took the words right out of my mouth. It's nice to meet you, Leah." Well, that saved time. "I just want you to know, if you answer my questions in as much detail as possible, we'll get much more done and you won't need to spend any more time here than is necessary. Since we don't need introductions, I'll go right in. You know what you've been diagnosed with, and you know why. So, tell me a couple of things. A, do you agree with your diagnosis? And B, can you tell me why you attacked your girlfriend in the first place?"

There. Short and simple. He knew cases like this often didn't like to talk about previous relationships, so he'd have to wait until she at least had respect for him before inquiring into those in further detail. In cases like this, trust was the most important thing; she'd never talk to him about anything if she thought what she said wasn't in all confidentiality. But he could, and would, wait. He was a patient man, and he knew exactly how to cope with these cases. patiences, building up trust on both sides, and confidentiality, and in theory, it should be all that was needed. Things that worked in theory never worked that well in practice, he knew, but it was always worth a try, and if it didn't work, he had other things up his sleeve that might do the job better.
For now, he simply sat and watched Leah, waiting for her answer.

[Leah Wright]

Leah lent back in her chair, rolling her eyes. This was pointless. " Mmm, I'm sure it's great to meet me, your next paycheque. " She knew that was the only reason he was seeing her was because he got paid to do so - spend an hour with her occasionally, ask 'insightful' questions and write stuff. Usually in incomprehensible writing. Her last psychiatrist had been a complete idiot; Leah was half glad that he was so bad, because it meant he couldn't find out what happened with Mark. Half of her was disappointed, however. She sometimes wished that she could tell people (well, not just random people on the street, but her parents maybe) about it, because it'd be a relief. Mostly, though, she was too scared about the breaking of all her bones threat. It wasn't that big a deal, anyway. What were a few (nightly) nightmares, really?

She nodded, agreeing to answering questions in detail. Leah knew that she was probably going to lie about some stuff - she did that, if need be - but she'd tell him all the detail about walking to class or other mundane stuff, if he wanted. " Sure. " At Gabe's questions, she raised her eyebrows slightly. He got right into it, didn't he? She supposed that she did as well, but still. For a few seconds, she considered his questions. Did she agree with her diagnosis? " I don't have OCD, or OL. I think I have PT- post-traumatic stress disorder. " God, why were they all such long, complicated words? She forgot the initials half the time, simply because they were so long.

The other question was harder to answer. Well, not harder. She knew the exact answer: she'd accidently bumped into Louise, when she was out shopping - yeah, she had a restraining order, but she didn't mean to - and thought she'd just go and say hi. Apparently, she'd been instructed to just walk away, and Leah had got a little...stressed at that. So she'd slapped her. But she wasn't telling Dr. Hudson all that; it was none of his business, anyway, and she couldn't be arsed to go into such detail. " None of your business, to be honest. " She glared at the psychiatrist, wondering if he'd question her further or leave it at that. Hopefully, he'd just leave it, but it could be fun to have a battle of wills if he decided to persist she. She stayed slumped back in her seat, her hands folded in her lap. She'd have been the picture of defiance if she was wearing more rebellious clothing.