Pandora's Box
She glares fitfully at the therapist. Shrink. That’s what Jason called her. Cass wishes she could shrink, sink through the floor, maybe. Anything, so as not to be there anymore. Why does the woman keep poking at the issue of her biological father? She doesn’t want to talk about David Cain; the man means nothing to her, other than a painful reminder of her genetics. He was a sperm donor, only. The man had trained her how to fight and how to kill, but he had taken great pains to NOT be a father to her.
Yet the woman keeps trying to open that Pandora’s Box. The more reluctant Cass is, the more she pries, which seems counter-intuitive. Aren’t therapists supposed to engender trust? At this point, Cass is feeling many things, but trust isn’t one of them.
“No. Pick. Other,” she states adamantly.
“You need to talk about your father, Cass, if you are to deal with the issues that surround him.”
“Don’t care,” the Asian girl snarls before she can stop herself from reacting And that annoys her still more.
“Cassandra…”
No. She’s had enough and that wheedling tone is scraping across her last nerve. Standing up, she doesn’t say a word as she leaves. Maybe, the girl considers, she should talk to Roy about getting a new therapist.
Yet the woman keeps trying to open that Pandora’s Box. The more reluctant Cass is, the more she pries, which seems counter-intuitive. Aren’t therapists supposed to engender trust? At this point, Cass is feeling many things, but trust isn’t one of them.
“No. Pick. Other,” she states adamantly.
“You need to talk about your father, Cass, if you are to deal with the issues that surround him.”
“Don’t care,” the Asian girl snarls before she can stop herself from reacting And that annoys her still more.
“Cassandra…”
No. She’s had enough and that wheedling tone is scraping across her last nerve. Standing up, she doesn’t say a word as she leaves. Maybe, the girl considers, she should talk to Roy about getting a new therapist.