She didn’t glance up. “For what?”
“Your therapy session.”
“No, thanks.”
I leaned on her doorframe studying her. “Not optional, I’m afraid. Hospital policy.”
“And is it your policy to play confessors for every girl you fuck?”
Ouch. Between the eyes with that one. “Is it your policy to run scared at the slightest hint of a challenge?”
She slapped her book shut. “Really, reverse psychology. Did they teach you that in medical school?”
I waited, and she finally rose to her feet and followed me to my office. I let her look around while I gathered my notebook and pen. Then I directed her to one of the arm chairs while I took the other.
“Are we really going to do this?”
I shifted to get comfortable. “Yes, we are.”
She sighed loud and long, and I took it as acquiescence.
“How are you feeling today?” I began.
She rolled her eyes. “Fine, just get where you are going so we can be done here.”
My patience fizzled and frayed. “Are you always this hostile?”
“To people holding me against my will? Yes.”
I studied her face carefully. She meant every word of that.
“Do you ever feel suspicious of others or question their motives?”
She sputtered. It wasn’t the question she’d been preparing for. “What?”
It felt good to break in a little bit. “Do you ever feel suspicious of others or question their motives?”
She narrowed her eyes this time. “Is this some kind of trick?”
I glanced at my notes with my next question. “Do you believe people are out to harm or trick you despite a lack of evidence?”
I scribbled on the pad.
“What are you writing down? I didn’t even answer the question?”
No way I’d share that note with her. “Are you hesitant to confide in others?”
She looked around the room as if waiting for a trap to strong. “It’s 2020. Isn’t everyone?”
Fair point. I scanned her face again. “Do you hold grudges?”
“Ash, tell me where you are going with this. It sounds dangerously like you have some sort of theory about a diagnosis which you are now trying to confirm.”
“Oh, and what do you think I’m aiming for?”
The hospitality had bled away from her features now. But something else had supplanted it. Almost, panic. “If I had to take a guess, I’m leaning toward paranoid personality disorder.”
We’ll ok. She’d gotten that in one shot. “How did you…?”
