//Well, then...// Jono was leaning back against his desk as per usual this week, arms crossed, eyes on the students in the room, //last class. And I suppose the thing to do is to give you a final, but in the end… this isn't really something I can grade you on based on a few answers on a sheet of paper. Besides, I'd much rather teach you all one
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She wasn't alone.
For the rest, though, she looked decidedly uncomfortable.
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"The point of group therapy," she said, very slowly, "isn't ... isn't it to share very personal things? With strangers, and ... and with someone who is very highly trained in how the mind works."
And thus, a master at manipulation. That was how Sofia's cult had begun: in group therapy sessions, in Rapture.
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Some food for thought?
//The man in charge of the sessions at the clinic is military... less a psychiatrist, more a person who has looked into the mouth of hell and who has some idea as to what people need in order to climb back out again. Nobody is being forced to go, and if you attend one meeting and decide that it isn't for you, you're just as welcome to never go back.//
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"I'm ... not planning on going," she said, unless she went as a preventative measure for other people. "I just ... don't want anyone else to get hurt."
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