Tekken Fan Fiction ❯ Scars ❯ Christie in Therapy ( Chapter 1 )

A/N 1- I own this story, and future characters (not associated with Namco) in upcoming chapters.

A/N 2- This story contains some humor. You know, to lighten the mood.

 

Scars

 

Ch. 1- Christie in Therapy

 

I walk in the office of earth-tones and yellows. “Good morning.” The doc says all cheerful and smiling. What the hell is she happy about?

“Have a seat, and we'll get started.” She uses her right hand, gesturing to a chocolate brown couch-like thing, half a foot to the right of her. I turn from it to look at her.

“If you don't mind, I'd like to sit in a chair. I prefer to not have my back turned to you.” She shakes her head okay and walks across the room to a closet. She pulls out a tan wooden chair with a brown seat pillow, the same as her desk and chair.

“Here you are.” She places the chair down across from her desk and chair. Walking back to sit at her desk, I wait until she's seated before I sit.

I notice that there's a silver tape recorder on her desk. She's flipping through a medium sized note pad with yellow lined paper.

“Make sure your tape recorder is on, doc. Don't wanna miss anything… My name is Christie Monteiro. MF, you already know my name? Well, woopdee do… You know, a lot of people don't like me. They didn't like me then and they sure as hell don't like me now. It's okay, because personally I don't give a damn. They say I'm mean; not fun. How would they feel if they had a messed up life? They wouldn't all be like me, that's for sure. Some would commit suicide, others would kill the ones who fucked up their lives, or abuse their children/or spouses in different ways. Some would withdraw from the people who've come to love them. Withdrawing from anyone who gets too close, or find themselves in an abusive relationship…

You want me to get right to the point? You want to know why I'm the way that I am? Okay doc. I'll tell you…”

“Please, call me Julia, Christie.”

“I call you `doc' instead of your name, because that's too personal. I just met you today.” She looks at me and shakes her head in understanding.

“It was a nice spring morning. Much like today, actually…Don't interrupt me doc. You're the one that wanted to hear this. I don't like to just hear myself talk…Now, if you'd just shut your mouth…What? I didn't come hear because I wanted to talk to you. Don't tell me to lower my voice! Stop provoking me, and I won't get loud. Why am I here? I'm here because some *cough, asses, cough* I work with filed complaints about me to the bosses. The little bitches couldn't even handle altercations by themselves.”

“Do you know the altercations were with?” The doc asks, looking down at a white piece of type paper.

“Of course I do.” I lean forward, straining to see what's on the paper. She makes sure I don't. I sit back down.

“Anyway, I need to stop getting snippy with fellow employees, the bosses said. Then they took me to court. The judge said that this `therapy', would make me a better person, compared to regular old community service. How about that, huh?”

“Sounds like these people knew you're a good person deep down inside, Christie. They want to help bring that person out. You talking to someone will do just that. It brings issues to light, so that you'll be able to get past them.” I stare at her. What the hell was that?

“Don't talk to me doc. That's bullshit, and you know it. The judge, Michelle something or other, assigned me to therapy because she knew damn well that if I was put with others for community service, I'd have a complaint brought against me everyday. As you know, I don't work with others well.”

“It seems that you don't get along with others, at all.”

“Yeah, that maybe the case, but I really don't care. Okay?” I lean forward in my chair. “Can I continue with `bring to light' my issues, doc?”

“Yes, Christie, you may.” She's been writing with her green pin since she first sat down.

“What're you writing?”

“Some important notes.” She finishes, and looks up at me.

“Some important notes, as in `comments' for the judge.”

“No. Some important notes, as in `comments' for my mother.” I' completely shocked.

“How dare you tell your mother about me. That's doctor/patient confidentiality!”

“Are you done?” The doc looks at me. “Judge Michelle something or other is Michelle Chang. My name is Julia Chang.” There's a pause. I feel kinda stupid.

“You may continue, when you're ready, Christie.” She's back to writing on her yellow lined paper note pad.

“It was a nice spring morning. Much like today actually. The date was April 14, 1997. I was 11 years old. A day I'd never forget…”

 

 

A/N 3- I hope you liked.

~Rain Nichole~