Dr. Hershey leaned back in his chair, staring straight into her eyes. “Are the monsters always evil, Selma? Is that what you see? A physical manifestation of inherently dangerous people?”
Before even realizing what she was doing, she shook her head.
“No?”
She flushed again and glanced at his pointed ears. “Uh… well, I don’t know for certain. Many of them have left me alone, even when I… was staring at them. Or crying and pointing, when I was little. But I don’t know if they are dangerous in other circumstances.”
A small smile tugged at his full lips. “And do you see me as one of these monsters?”
3
Selma
The excess blood—and then some—immediately drained from her face. Oh god, how did he…?
“No.” It came out as a squeak.
Dr. Hershey raised an eyebrow in challenge. “Selma... I thought we had an understanding about telling the truth?”
Her brown eyes widened. Did he honestly expect her to explain that yes, she saw him as some form of nightmare creature—albeit a handsome one?
His defiant stare suggested that that was very much the case.
Shame hadn’t rested this heavily on her since she’d been forced to apologize to Mr. Hubert, the physics teacher she’d confessed to suspecting was some form of demon. Gaze resting firmly on her knees, she nodded shortly.
“What do I look like? Please, describe what you see.”
Defeated, she lifted a hand and made a vague gesture toward his head. “Horns, pointed ears...”
“Is that all?” He sounded idly amused, which really wasn’t very polite.
Selma shot him an annoyed glare—she didn’t enjoy feeling like the butt of a joke, having spent much of her life as one. However, his flaming eyes caught hers the second she looked up again, and the interest in them far overshadowed any indication of humor.
“Your eyes are like fire, but apart from that, you look... normal.” She grimaced, feeling several shades of ridiculous. It was always uncomfortable to talk about her illness, but the fact that he was so... intrigued just made everything worse. Maybe it was his age—Dr. Hershey couldn’t have been out of college for many years, and she was possibly his first non-standard patient.
He was, at least, looking at her as if she was some kind of rare and valuable find. “What color are my horns, then?”
Selma blinked, glancing up at said horns. “Er... black, with a bit of gray. Why?”
Something shifted in his eyes, as if he’d reached some conclusion in their depths. Then he smiled, turning his attention back to the computer that had gone into sleep mode, and moved the mouse to revive it.
“Simple curiosity. Now...” He tapped on the keyboard and looked at what she assumed was her file. “Have you ever heard of Sigmund Freud, Selma?”
“Yes.” Who hadn’t heard of that nut ball?
Her apprehensive tone drew another wry smile from his defined features. “I take from your expression that you aren’t a fan. I hope you will keep an open mind, though, because there is a very good chance that we can help you by applying some newer theories that have their origins in his philosophy.”
“Help me?” She had heard those airy words before, and each time had been a letdown. “Is there a new drug?”
Dr. Hershey shook his head, clicking his tongue disapprovingly. “Pharmaceuticals... It may be unorthodox, given my profession, but I rarely support attempts at altering brain chemistry with the use of drugs. The human mind is such a fascinating organism, and so much can be done just by finding a way to balance a patient’s hormones.”
Selma frowned—that was certainly unorthodox thinking for a psychiatrist.
“The paramedics took some blood samples from you last night. Do you remember?” he continued, ignoring her obvious doubt.
Hazily she remembered being pricked with a needle, but she’d not realized they’d done anything other than sedate her. She nodded anyway.
“There is an indication of a pretty rare hormonal imbalance in your results, one we haven’t been able to test for until about four years ago. I suspect, and new research supports, that this could be the primary cause of your hallucinations.”
