Possessed: Chapter Four

Long story short: Donna’s mother took her to the local doctor. When Donna refused to speak (what are you supposed to say? “Well, see, these gods kind of made their home in my brain and I can talk with them?” Pretty sure that can get you locked up in a rubber room), Christina launched into her tale: how she had walked into the apartment and heard her daughter speaking, surely to one of her friends. When she meandered (actually, she stormed) into Donna’s room and watched her daughter (who had been under the covers, but the doctor didn’t care about this tiny detail) have a conversation with herself. Donna’s super-concerned mother (yeah, right) immediately rushed her to the doctor’s office. He had suggested Donna see a therapist as soon as possible.

So, Donna was spending her Saturday morning sitting in the waiting room, not eager at all to see some therapist who was “genuinely concerned” about Donna. Genuinely concerned about his paycheck, Donna thought bitterly.

“Miss Donna Marlie, you are welcome back to see Dr. Phsi.” The receptionist said the name like “sigh.”

“Seriously? Psy as in psycho?” Donna was beginning to think seeing the therapist wasn’t going to be so torturous.

The receptionist grit her teeth. “Phsi as in Dr. Phsi. P-h-s-i.”

She led Donna down a hallway and into a room. The room was pretty cool. It was about the size of Donna’s bedroom. A lilac wall housed two bookshelves, which were filled with books and knick-knacks. Another wall was composed of floor to ceiling windows. There were three black bean bags in the center of the room.

Donna strolled to the windows. She knew the view wouldn’t be anything spectacular, but she looked anyways. The windows overlooked the city skyline of Los Angeles. It was a view she saw every day. Still, the windows made the room seem more open; not like Donna was being crowded into a space.

Donna settled into a bean bag. A petite blond woman rushed into the room.

“Thank you, Juliet.” The receptionist nodded and stalked off. She still looked miffed about Donna’s psycho comment.

The blonde collapsed on to one of the bean bags and faced Donna. “Sorry, busy morning. I’m filling in for Dr. Phsi today. My name is Dr. Lawrence, but you may call me Brianne, if you would like."

Donna studied Brianne. She was probably an inch or two taller than five foot. She was skinny, with fine facial features. She wore dark wash jeans and a white blouse.

“Okay, Donna. Would you like to get to know me, or should we start with you?” Brianne’s question brought Donna back to reality.

“What’s your favorite band?” The question sounded dumb, but Donna had learned that the music a person chose to listen to told a lot about that person.

Brianne didn’t seem surprised by the question. “Hmm. Probably Train.”

“Why? What’s your favorite song?”

“My grandparents raised me on country and classic rock, so I guess Train is a middle ground. My favorite song is probably ‘Calling all Angels.’” Brianne grinned.

“Grandparents?”

Brianne nodded. “My grandparents practically raised me. My parents were in the picture, but not often.”

Donna could relate. Her dad had died when she was younger, and her mom was typically at a bar or high.

“Any more questions?” Brianne sounded like she wasn’t in a hurry, like she could talk about anything for the rest of the day.

“Naw. Train’s a good band. I guess you can quiz me and decide what’s wrong with me.” Donna gave her a sweet, yet sarcastic, smile. She hoped Brianne understood that Donna didn’t intend on opening up.

“Well, what’s your favorite band?”

“The Script.” Donna was a bit surprised by Brianne’s approach. She had been expecting something more direct. Then again, she had asked Brianne the same question for good reason.

“What album do you prefer?”

Okay, that was a strange question. There was no way Brianne could get anything out of liking a complete album. “#3.”

“Would you like me to put it on? What’s your favorite song on it?”

Donna was stunned that Brianne owned the album. “Um, sure. My favorite is ‘Hall of Fame.’”

Brianne nodded. “‘Hall of Fame’ is gorgeous.” Donna must have had a pretty priceless expression, because Brianne laughed. “Don’t look so shocked. I’m not so old that I can’t enjoy good music.” She pulled a black iPod out of her pocket and set it on a dock in the bookshelf. After a couple of swipes with her thumb, “Breakeven” was playing.

“It’s on shuffle. That okay?”

Donna nodded. She figured the niceness wouldn’t last for much longer.

“So. Anything in your life you’d like to discuss? Bands, school problems, anything?” Brianna’s question sounded fake. Staged. Donna was definitely not going to trust this woman.

“You can be honest with her. You can be friends, actually. Soon, you’ll be under very different circumstances.” Apollo chuckled. Donna wondered what he knew about the future. Still, she decided to take his word for it.

Donna found herself spilling the strange happenings of the past couple of weeks. She shared the disturbing conversation she’d had the day before.

Brianne’s eyes widened as Donna spoke. When she finished, Brianne looked like she was on the verge of panic. “And you didn't tell anyone? Didn’t record your thoughts anywhere? Texts, diary, internet? Anywhere?”

Donna shook her head.

Brianne looked slightly relieved at that, but worry still filled her eyes.

“I was afraid of this… heard your case… encouraged Dr. Phsi to let me interview you… bad, bad, bad…” Brianne mumbled as she shuffled through a couple of papers that had been in the bookshelf.

“What’s wrong?” Donna could feel fear rising in her chest.

“Those voices? The gods? I’ve heard them too.”