"So, tell me Naomi, how do you feel right now?"

"Dark! And I feel a huge cold and damp boulder, hanging over my shoulder."
I had married my legs together, as I bent over, rocking my spine back and forth. It might have seemed like I was avoiding her gaze, but I was simply enjoying the freeing motion, and the warmth it offered my body.
"I wish the huge rock could just fall over and crush me."

My hoodie was patting violently against my back from the way I rocked about. And from the way I now closely coupled my legs, with my arms wrapped around it, one would mistake that to be a shiver from the cold, but if that were the case, I'd know.

"What do you suppose this huge rock is?"

"My problems!"
I wasn't obliged to answer, but I had dressed the part for the occasion. The white rumpled shirt I had on, drowned within the gray hoodie, flip flapping as I rocked. The trousers and its whiteness had it own share in the protest; it was too baggy without dignity, loosed against my legs, and I wished it were a bit skinny. Or maybe it was I who wasn't feeding well.... Honesty, when did I last eat?

There was a cup-sized recorder sitting on the table in our middle, and although I couldn't see the spinning tape, the beeping red light was proving that it was doing its job.

"Your problems? Could you tell me more about that?"

I still had no interest in her questions, but I was once told that the more I cooperate in these sessions, the quicker I get to leave this rathole.

"How long I'm I gonna keep staying here?"
Nothing mattered anymore. I wanted to leave there immediately. My patience gauge was near bottom, and I felt caged against my will.

"We'll be evaluating your condition, until we determine you fit to return home."

She dropped the notepad she had been scribbling her junky words on. I couldn't really care less what she had been penning down the last forty seven minutes. Yes! We had been sitting, facing each other for the past forty seven minutes even though it seemed like five to me.
Our daily sessions began exactly nine O'clock every morning, and that day, I had spent the first ten minutes picking my nails, and making sure they were evenly curved.

For this whole shit show, 'cliché' was definitely an understatement, and without Dr Raleigh's white coat, and the red ballpoint pen sticking out of her chest pocket escaping the same fate.

"I've been here for about thirteen months, get me the fuck outta here!"
The brewing anger had forced me from the chair without me realizing, and my flying hands and feet knocked it down behind me, which brought me to a more conscious reality.

"Calm down Naomi, we only want the best for you."
From the way I saw her sit, I was certain she was on alert to tackle what ever situation pops up.
"Have you had your meds today? Those blue pills, and the tiny white ones? "

Her questions were stupid to me. How can I not take them? I'm always under strict surveillance, food is brought to me at certain hours of the day, my sleep is regulated, even the times I get to pee and take a dump is equally routined. So there was no way I would not take the pills.
Even if I chose not to, I'd be sedated to, and will be pegged "unstable" -whatever that means.

"I did."
I responded, while melting the scratchy anger, as I pulled back up the seat, and returned to it.

"That's great."
Her attention was totally lost to what she had been scribbling since my outburst of fury, and the mumbles she made were as silent as a flowing sludge of goo.
She finally looked up, cocked her pen in its blue cap, and stuffed it in with the rest.
"We're done for today."
Her eyes were momentarily on me, 'til she shifted them to the table, and laid it over the blinking recorder, as she picked it up and held it against her mouth.
"Patient 0273, Naomi Mest Jefferson, unstable, with a —"

"So that's it? We're gonna leave again, and you're not gonna say anything about me going home?"
Clearly my questions were of no interest to her, and she clearly acknowledged that fact.
She had gifted me a look clearly spelling out her detest, when I began my question, which she ignored and continued speaking into the recorder.

"— with a chronic case of depression and frustration, temper tantrums, and is likely to choose suicide as a means of escape from pain. "

She was right. Slitting my wrist, or jumping off the tenth floor of a building, would be an easy way out for me, but I could not let my plans to crush and destroy everything he has and what was taken from me, go to waste. I was determined to scale extra heights to ensure fruition of my plans, even if it meant me soiling my hands in anyone's blood.

I had lost everything, so I had nothing more to lose. Even the life I had was insipid, and I was willing to keep up with every unfolding reality, until I have safely stuffed his head on a pike, with his body dumped into a river somewhere.

'Doctor Katherine Raleigh'. Those were the words the copper tag on her white kneelong coat had, and that was the last I saw of her that day, as the two men from the other side of door, ushered me out.