The offices of Dr. Hilda Spooner, Child Psychologist.
Fussing around in a big, pleather armchair, greener then a fresh crayon, sat a little eleven year old girl, sweaty, with a pair of eyes, looking like they are somewhere else, far away from the tiny cramped quarters of the doctor woman’s office. Walls of burgundy, shiny grey file cabinets and almost dead ferns dominated that room. They felt like they were inching, inching closer with each passing tick of father time.
Thin fingers, dug deep into the arms of the chair.
A raspy voice, with a hint of agitation behind it, spoke again, to the young girl.
“Melissa….Melissa..Sweetie, you’re going to have to talk to me sometime.” The voice came from the doctor woman…Dr. Spooner. A tall, bony woman, in her late thirties, a new tan contrasted with her black power suit and hair. Dr. Spooner sat across from Melissa, note pad and pen ready. Leaning closer, gently placing a caring hand on Melissa’s shoulder. Melissa avoided eye contact, focused on the cartoon bees stitched to the yellow denim of her overalls.
“You’re going to have talk…about why your behavior is the way it is.”
“Why are you sad?”
“Why did you attack that boy? That was a very horrible thing to do.”
“Why did you try to drown him in mud?”
Melissa was stone faced…not a good sign in an elven year old. Dr. Spooner sighed, sat back and looked at Melissa, five years in, Hilda was still unnerved that kids could even go this far. She looked at her notes, new tactic.
“Who is Ms. Bunny...she sounds like a bad friend to me.”
Not a thing.
Dr. Spooner adjusted, and gave the notes another look.
“Melissa, listen. I don’t think your bad, you feel a lot of emotions the confuse you…scare you, anger you. You don’t know what to do.
“I know deep down you’re a good girl.” Dr. Spooner gave a warm, big sister reaching out smile, she really meant it.
Melissa’s tiny heart felt like it was melting, tears rolled down her cheeks, the words, the answers to all the doctor woman’s question started to build up courage, trying to burst out. But her ears hurt.
The sound of buzzing, busy bees, her eye looked at her clothes at the bees. Then the shiny cabinets started to rattle, the ferns vibrated, the walls were so close.
It all stopped, a head leaned close to Melissa’s ear, long black hair hid most of it, but it is hard to miss the odd facial structure, the pink nose, buck teeth…the rabbit ears. It started to whisper.
Melissa’s gentle but waterlogged; eyes stared to side table, to the letter open in the middle, then to the doctor writing away on her pad.
Cleveland now.
The wild orange color from the flames of the garbage painted the small area where Harlequin was sitting, zoned out, just coming of the Tower of Terror that is her mind. Harlequin shook it off, her black peepers blinked repeatedly. The sensation of gravel and fragments of a beer bottle scraped her bottom as she sat up.
Louis and Wayne, surprised and a little aroused by the fact the Harlequin hand no underwear on.
“You have been precious vagabonds.” The Heartland Harlequin stated
“A Merry go round of fun.”
“…but I’d leave town as soon as I can.”
“Tonight is just not the night for innocent bystanders.”
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