63.3 - Break It
"Break it."
I double-take when she says this. Did she just say what I think she said? What the fuck is that gonna do? I can't help but quirk an eyebrow at her request. It's odd. I really think I heard her wrong, because it seems pointless. "Excuse me?" I finally reply, tilting my head. The blonde in front of me cannot be serious with her statement. If she is, she's crazier than I am.
As if to emphasize her point, she thrusts the glass into my hand. "Break it," she repeats. "Break the glass, Alexis," she crosses her arms, sitting back in her chair, pushing her glasses back up the bridge of her nose.
"What the fuck is the point of it?" I set the glass down, crossing my arms, looking at her like she has two heads. I'd be less shocked if that were the case at the moment. Because here I sit, she's telling me to break a glass in her office. I don't understand her reasoning. I want an explanation for it. I should trust her. Even if her methods are less than conventional, she always backs it up with a valid reason for it. And in the end, it always makes sense. But I cannot see the sense in smashing a glass against her office wall.
She sighs, leaning forward a bit. Looking at me. She's used to the 'what the fuck' questions that often come from me - probably why I don't feel bad about dropping them when she asks me to do something seemingly absurd. "What is it you do?" she questions. She knows what I do. She's trying to help me figure out her reasoning for myself, rather than handing the information to me. Part of her charm, I guess. Well, maybe not her charm, but there's definitely some reason she's the only phsychiatrist I've stuck with for as long as I have.
"I'm a detective," I answer with a shrug. "I investigate crimes and I help people," I elaborate. I have no clue what she's looking for. My eyes fall on the glass for a moment. I replay her words to me. 'Break it.' I sit, mulling this over for a few moments. Trying to think, trying to figure her out, figure her reason out. 'Break it.'
I tilt my head for a moment, looking at her. It clicks. "I try to break the cycle," I say slowly, quietly. "The cycle of violence. I work to break it."
She nods, offering a small smile. "You break the cycle of violence," she repeats. She picks her clipboard up off of the table, jotting something down. "How do you feel when you work to break it?" she asks. She knows how I feel. It's not hard to figure out.
My hand moves towards the glass slowly, and I pick it up, rolling it between my hands, closing my eyes. I pace the room for a moment, my eyes closed. I know this office like the back of my hand, so pacing with my eyes closed is simple. I know where everything is placed, I know where to walk, where not to walk, without looking. I stop suddenly, opening my eyes. In one swift motion, I whip the glass, clear across the room. It hits the wall and shatters, shards of glass falling to the floor.
I breathe heavily, closing my eyes, shoving my hands in my pockets. "Empowered," I say, my tone quiet, soft. "Breaking the cycle of violence? Breaking that glass?" I turn and look at her. "Makes me feel empowered. Able to control, able to stop the violence, able to help."
Muse: Alexis Russo
Fandom: Law & Order: SVU (Original Character)
Word Count: 610
I double-take when she says this. Did she just say what I think she said? What the fuck is that gonna do? I can't help but quirk an eyebrow at her request. It's odd. I really think I heard her wrong, because it seems pointless. "Excuse me?" I finally reply, tilting my head. The blonde in front of me cannot be serious with her statement. If she is, she's crazier than I am.
As if to emphasize her point, she thrusts the glass into my hand. "Break it," she repeats. "Break the glass, Alexis," she crosses her arms, sitting back in her chair, pushing her glasses back up the bridge of her nose.
"What the fuck is the point of it?" I set the glass down, crossing my arms, looking at her like she has two heads. I'd be less shocked if that were the case at the moment. Because here I sit, she's telling me to break a glass in her office. I don't understand her reasoning. I want an explanation for it. I should trust her. Even if her methods are less than conventional, she always backs it up with a valid reason for it. And in the end, it always makes sense. But I cannot see the sense in smashing a glass against her office wall.
She sighs, leaning forward a bit. Looking at me. She's used to the 'what the fuck' questions that often come from me - probably why I don't feel bad about dropping them when she asks me to do something seemingly absurd. "What is it you do?" she questions. She knows what I do. She's trying to help me figure out her reasoning for myself, rather than handing the information to me. Part of her charm, I guess. Well, maybe not her charm, but there's definitely some reason she's the only phsychiatrist I've stuck with for as long as I have.
"I'm a detective," I answer with a shrug. "I investigate crimes and I help people," I elaborate. I have no clue what she's looking for. My eyes fall on the glass for a moment. I replay her words to me. 'Break it.' I sit, mulling this over for a few moments. Trying to think, trying to figure her out, figure her reason out. 'Break it.'
I tilt my head for a moment, looking at her. It clicks. "I try to break the cycle," I say slowly, quietly. "The cycle of violence. I work to break it."
She nods, offering a small smile. "You break the cycle of violence," she repeats. She picks her clipboard up off of the table, jotting something down. "How do you feel when you work to break it?" she asks. She knows how I feel. It's not hard to figure out.
My hand moves towards the glass slowly, and I pick it up, rolling it between my hands, closing my eyes. I pace the room for a moment, my eyes closed. I know this office like the back of my hand, so pacing with my eyes closed is simple. I know where everything is placed, I know where to walk, where not to walk, without looking. I stop suddenly, opening my eyes. In one swift motion, I whip the glass, clear across the room. It hits the wall and shatters, shards of glass falling to the floor.
I breathe heavily, closing my eyes, shoving my hands in my pockets. "Empowered," I say, my tone quiet, soft. "Breaking the cycle of violence? Breaking that glass?" I turn and look at her. "Makes me feel empowered. Able to control, able to stop the violence, able to help."
Muse: Alexis Russo
Fandom: Law & Order: SVU (Original Character)
Word Count: 610