Post by Samantha Tolson on Dec 18, 2017 1:43:00 GMT -5
OOC Note: This appeared as a part of my RP for Sam for the most recent LAW card. But, as the series will also continue here, I posted the CD portion of it here so you can all also follow along with the saga. - Corey
Samantha Tolson sat inside an office. It was well-appointed, with dark wooden shelves full of books resting on a similarly colored wooden floor. The sun poured in through large picture windows, gently filtered by a set of white curtains that extended from just above those windows all the way to just above the floor. The large desk in the office was also quite fancy, looking like it might have been made of something like mahogany or another rich wood. The chairs in front of that desk were large, covered in a beige fabric that was soft to the touch...Samantha, as much as she hated being here, had to admit that the chair certainly was extremely comfortable.
In the other chair sat a short man, a little pudgy, wearing a brown sweater vest over a light blue shirt, along with a set of khakis and brown loafers. In his lap was a notebook, and in his hand an ink pen. He looked at Samantha carefully, as if pondering his question.
“You know why you’re here, right Miss Tolson?”
Samantha sighed deeply. “Yeah. I made a promise to my brother to seek out some help, find out what’s wrong with me.”
The man smiled warmly at her. “I wouldn’t say it’s to find out, as you say, what’s wrong with you. It’s more to help you find who you are, find out how to work with things like the anger issues Brian told me about over the phone.”
Samantha bristled visibly. “You spoke to my brother?”
“I did. I thought it best to contact him, try to gain a little insight about you before we got to work. Does that make you angry, Miss Tolson?”
“A little, yeah. I kinda thought the point of all this was you asked me questions, I gave you answers, you came to conclusions, we talked about those conclusions...you know, psychobabble.”
The man looked at her for a moment, considering what Samantha’d just said. “Psychobabble. Is that what you call this?”
“I just did, didn’t I?”
“I think of it in different terms.”
Samantha was a bit intrigued now, and saw her chance to probe further. “So tell me then. How do you see it?”
The man smiled again. “Like I said...this is a chance for me to help you deal with some of the things that happen in your mind, those things that you react to that are causing you to have issues in your life.”
Samantha sighed heavily. “So you’re gonna try and be my friend then...isn’t that just grand?”
“No, Samantha, I’m here to help you. I’m not going to pretend that we will be friends through this process. I’m a therapist. I give therapy to those who seek it. But I will tell you this much. An adversarial relationship between us will either make the whole thing take longer than you’d like, or perhaps make it a completely useless exercise.”
“Ahh...I see...so I suppose I’m just supposed to sit here and listen then? Just sit here and take it while you try to rip my life apart, right?”
“No, Miss Tolson, that’s not exactly how it works.”
Samantha interrupted. “Then tell me, would you? Tell me how this works because I sure as hell don’t understand it!” She stood up, and immediately was in a stance that made the good psychiatrist uneasy. “You call my fucking brother to find out about me, then I get here today and you tell me you’re not gonna try and be my friend, but everything you tell me you want to do is exactly what a good friend would do! AAGGGHHH!!!”
The doctor jumped backward in his chair as Samantha leveled a hard front kick with her left foot at the chair, snapping the back off the seat from the force of the blow. Samantha looked at the chair, surveying the damage as she caught her breath, then looked at the doctor, an angry, confused look still on her face.
The man in the sweater vest slowly eased back into a normal sitting posture. “Can I ask you a question?”
“What.” The answer was not so much a response as it was a half-snarl.
“Did that help you in any way?”
“What do you mean, did it help me?”
The psychiatrist persisted. “Did it help you somehow?”
“Yeah, it did. It kept me from kicking you in the head, most likely.”
“So you have anger issues then.”
“No, I don’t have anger issues. I have idiot issues.”
“Do you think I’m an idiot, Samantha?”
“Based on what I’ve seen so far today, yeah, I do. You went behind my back and talked to my brother. That was a shit thing to do, Doctor. An idiot does those sorts of things.”
“Why does that bother you so much, Samantha?”
“Because everyone says I went behind someone’s back to be with my girlfriend. Sick of that kind of crap, and now someone’s done it to me.”
“How does that make you feel?”
Samantha smirked for a mere moment, finally relaxing her stance. “You’re kidding, right? No, I mean seriously, you’re kidding.”
“I assure I’m not.”
Samantha just looked at the broken chair, then looked at him, then back to the chair, and then finally back to the doctor once more. “How do you think I feel?”
“I’d say you’re either angry or hurt, one or the other.”
“I’d say some of both.”
The doctor scribbled a couple of things on his notepad, then looked at his watch. “Well, Miss Tolson, that’s our time for today. I will have my secretary call you to schedule your next session...and, of course, to bill you for the damaged chair.”
Samantha grinned. “That’s fine. I’d say sorry about the chair, but...you know…”
The psychiatrist nodded, watching as Samantha walked out the door of his office. Going back to his notepad, he began to write:
Quick temper, expressed through violence. Biggest issue…
No sense of boundaries.
Samantha Tolson sat inside an office. It was well-appointed, with dark wooden shelves full of books resting on a similarly colored wooden floor. The sun poured in through large picture windows, gently filtered by a set of white curtains that extended from just above those windows all the way to just above the floor. The large desk in the office was also quite fancy, looking like it might have been made of something like mahogany or another rich wood. The chairs in front of that desk were large, covered in a beige fabric that was soft to the touch...Samantha, as much as she hated being here, had to admit that the chair certainly was extremely comfortable.
In the other chair sat a short man, a little pudgy, wearing a brown sweater vest over a light blue shirt, along with a set of khakis and brown loafers. In his lap was a notebook, and in his hand an ink pen. He looked at Samantha carefully, as if pondering his question.
“You know why you’re here, right Miss Tolson?”
Samantha sighed deeply. “Yeah. I made a promise to my brother to seek out some help, find out what’s wrong with me.”
The man smiled warmly at her. “I wouldn’t say it’s to find out, as you say, what’s wrong with you. It’s more to help you find who you are, find out how to work with things like the anger issues Brian told me about over the phone.”
Samantha bristled visibly. “You spoke to my brother?”
“I did. I thought it best to contact him, try to gain a little insight about you before we got to work. Does that make you angry, Miss Tolson?”
“A little, yeah. I kinda thought the point of all this was you asked me questions, I gave you answers, you came to conclusions, we talked about those conclusions...you know, psychobabble.”
The man looked at her for a moment, considering what Samantha’d just said. “Psychobabble. Is that what you call this?”
“I just did, didn’t I?”
“I think of it in different terms.”
Samantha was a bit intrigued now, and saw her chance to probe further. “So tell me then. How do you see it?”
The man smiled again. “Like I said...this is a chance for me to help you deal with some of the things that happen in your mind, those things that you react to that are causing you to have issues in your life.”
Samantha sighed heavily. “So you’re gonna try and be my friend then...isn’t that just grand?”
“No, Samantha, I’m here to help you. I’m not going to pretend that we will be friends through this process. I’m a therapist. I give therapy to those who seek it. But I will tell you this much. An adversarial relationship between us will either make the whole thing take longer than you’d like, or perhaps make it a completely useless exercise.”
“Ahh...I see...so I suppose I’m just supposed to sit here and listen then? Just sit here and take it while you try to rip my life apart, right?”
“No, Miss Tolson, that’s not exactly how it works.”
Samantha interrupted. “Then tell me, would you? Tell me how this works because I sure as hell don’t understand it!” She stood up, and immediately was in a stance that made the good psychiatrist uneasy. “You call my fucking brother to find out about me, then I get here today and you tell me you’re not gonna try and be my friend, but everything you tell me you want to do is exactly what a good friend would do! AAGGGHHH!!!”
The doctor jumped backward in his chair as Samantha leveled a hard front kick with her left foot at the chair, snapping the back off the seat from the force of the blow. Samantha looked at the chair, surveying the damage as she caught her breath, then looked at the doctor, an angry, confused look still on her face.
The man in the sweater vest slowly eased back into a normal sitting posture. “Can I ask you a question?”
“What.” The answer was not so much a response as it was a half-snarl.
“Did that help you in any way?”
“What do you mean, did it help me?”
The psychiatrist persisted. “Did it help you somehow?”
“Yeah, it did. It kept me from kicking you in the head, most likely.”
“So you have anger issues then.”
“No, I don’t have anger issues. I have idiot issues.”
“Do you think I’m an idiot, Samantha?”
“Based on what I’ve seen so far today, yeah, I do. You went behind my back and talked to my brother. That was a shit thing to do, Doctor. An idiot does those sorts of things.”
“Why does that bother you so much, Samantha?”
“Because everyone says I went behind someone’s back to be with my girlfriend. Sick of that kind of crap, and now someone’s done it to me.”
“How does that make you feel?”
Samantha smirked for a mere moment, finally relaxing her stance. “You’re kidding, right? No, I mean seriously, you’re kidding.”
“I assure I’m not.”
Samantha just looked at the broken chair, then looked at him, then back to the chair, and then finally back to the doctor once more. “How do you think I feel?”
“I’d say you’re either angry or hurt, one or the other.”
“I’d say some of both.”
The doctor scribbled a couple of things on his notepad, then looked at his watch. “Well, Miss Tolson, that’s our time for today. I will have my secretary call you to schedule your next session...and, of course, to bill you for the damaged chair.”
Samantha grinned. “That’s fine. I’d say sorry about the chair, but...you know…”
The psychiatrist nodded, watching as Samantha walked out the door of his office. Going back to his notepad, he began to write:
Quick temper, expressed through violence. Biggest issue…
No sense of boundaries.