CHAPTER 2

If  you don't like me and you still watch everything I do, Bitch! Your a fan

Dressed up in a black hoodie, black ripped jeans, and my favorite black leather heel boots, I was ready to face the new therapist mom had appointed me with. She was the second therapist I was visiting since my release from the asylum two years ago. The first therapist died by an accident. Not like I did anything though. Okay fine I accidentally on purposely spoiled her brakes(she dared me too). I slung my side bag over my shoulders, ran my fingers through my short hair and left my room with Storm hot on my trail.

I got down to the kitchen to see my brothers eating breakfast and Mrs Jenna fixing a plate of pancakes for me. I sat down and she placed it on my table with a fruit juice. My pills were placed next to the food and I sighed loudly, ignoring the encouraging smile she gave me.

"Thanks." I dismissed her and continued to stare at her until she fixed Storm's breakfast. Mrs Jenna was our hired nanny though she never lived with us. She would always come in the morning and live before six PM.

She was anything but kind and that pissed me off. All my life I had lived with monsters. No one was kind. Everyone wanted to be free, free of the horror they passed through.

"Bus is here kids." Mrs Jenna reminded them as the honk blared and Wilson groaned and got up, taking his bag with him.

"Bye Harriet, love you." They both said and I nodded, watching them leave. I decided to leave my food untouched and swallowed my pills immediately.

"When are you go-",

"C'mon Storm, we have somewhere really important to go to." I cut her off, adjusting Storm on my shoulder and I left the house. I ignored the stares of nosey neighbors thrown my way as I walked to the bus-stop. They made my skin itch and the therapists at the insane asylum always punished us when we reacted to stares being thrown out way. A taxi stopped right in front of me and I sighed in relief. Standing here and waiting for a taxi to show up is like watching sponge Bob with my brothers. 2hours later.

"Manchester mind." I told the driver and he nodded. I got into the back of the taxi and closed my eyes, feeling the cool air on my cold skin and freezing fingers as he drove off.

"Miss, we're here." The driver's gruff voice pulled me out of my slumber and I groaned silently and sat up, Storm getting off my lap.

"How much is your money?" I asked him, dipping my fingers into my pocket.

"50 quid," he told me and I gave him from my hoodie and jumped out of the taxi, Storm on my shoulder.

"Now boy, you must behave when we get inside alright, I don't want to be receiving any tasers today." I mumbled and it chittered making me smile. I got in front of the gate and pressed the electric bell.

"How can I help you young lady?" An old man of about 50 years came close to the gate. He had falling cheeks and big red bags underneath his gray eyes.

"I have an appointment here." I told him and he scrunched his face with his eyes squinted trying to remember if any appointment was given.

"Name please?" He asked and I sighed in annoyance.

"Harriet-Manners Nicholai." I replied and he held up his index finger, signaling me to wait. He turned on the tab he was holding and typed my name into it.

"Yes, the Harriet-Manners with a severe case of IED," he said, looking at me with a kind smile and I rolled my eyes at him. I wasn't in the mood to deal with old men.

"Can you just let me in so I can get this over with." I snapped but he still kept the creepy smile on his face as he opened the gate. This man I'm sure had a mental illness too.

"Third floor, first room on your right," he informed me and I nodded, ignoring his small good luck and went into the building.

"Hi you're welcome to-",

I ignored the blonde receptionist and went to the elevator. I pressed third floor button and it dinged and started moving. I groaned when I heard the popular elevator songs in England, dream a little dream.

The elevator stopped and the door opened, making me to jump out and walk to the first door on my right.

I knocked on it and I heard a faint come in so I opened it slowly and cringed at the sight before me.

She was old, probably in her early sixties. She was dressed in a dressy shirt and skirt that looked like it fell below her knees paired with a black flat shoe. She was almost deathly skinned, resembling a scarecrow.

"Harriet-Manners Nicholai," she croaked out and I nodded. "Nice to meet you. I am Mrs Jones and I'll be your therapist today, have a seat," she ordered and I sat across her, playing with my fingers. Something I did to show I wasn't interested. I didn't feel comfortable in this room, it was too white, too bright. Nothing related to the real color of my life.

She grabbed a clipboard with a paper on it, uncapped her pen and focused her glasses obstructed eyes on me. "So Manners-",

"Call me Harriet." I frowned at her and she took a second to write something down on her paper.

"I'm sorry but I feel more comfortable calling you by your second name," she explained. I hated that name with every blood cell in my body.

I just stared at her until she squirmed uncomfortably, "fine, whatever." I replied and she smiled.

"So let's talk about the night of your sister's death," she said and I glared at her with every strength in me.

"Let's not." I replied, picking at my finger nails. I was really hungry. Green Jello sounds so good right now, I thought, or maybe some mixed vegetables, Mrs Jenna could make me since she knows how hard mom can be when we eat junks or sugar. She justs wants us to live a healthier lifestyle-

"Manners,"

"What?" I asked irritably, scowling at the scarecrow as Storm glared at her for making me angry. I stared at Storm and nodded my head for it to go somewhere else and it scurried off. I glanced back at her as she pushed her glass up, blinking rapidly.

"I was given specific instructions to have you talk about your sister's murder and gauge your anger. If you do not do this, you will fail and you'll have to go back to the asylum and spend another six years," she explained. "Is that what you want?" she asked.

"You don't give a fuck about what I want, your getting a paycheck anyway." I said, rolling my eyes. I knew what she wanted me to say, it was what they all wanted me to say. Indirectly at least.

That I was a loose canon ready to explode. A sadistic, psychotic bitch with no feelings of remorse. A cold-blooded killer...

Mrs Jones frowned, adjusting her glasses, "you're right, I'm getting paid for this. I have no problem failing you immediately because you're a murderer, a mons-"

Holy shit. That was intense

What do you think the therapist was about to say?

What do you think Harriet will do?

Let's go find out😄