Snow Storm

35

He sat in the shrink’s office again, having summarised the week’s events as best he could, to the same unemotional conditioned responses as always. Nothing was ever committal from her side. She would never give anything away about how she personally felt in relation to the events and feelings as they were described by the subject in front of her.

He often wondered what she really thought. Was there a level of disgust at it all? Did she even have any personal feelings on the subject, other than a professional enthusiasm for an unusual case?

“You’ve had a busy week,” she said, in conclusion, drawing a line under it in an effort to move things on.

He knew it was coming. He knew the drill, but that didn’t stop the sense of dread, like knowing he had to get out of bed on a cold morning.

“And are we alone today?” she asked, finally.

“Yes,” he answered, like a kid who’d been asked if he’d done his homework. He hated this.

“You’re sure?”

“Quite.”

She waited, letting him calm a little. “And where are Jones and Campbell?”

“Gone,” he replied, before adding “for now at least.”

She nodded, looking at the window to her left. “You know they were gone over a year ago James?” she asked.

“Of course,” he confirmed.

“They were shot and killed. You were there.”

“I’m quite aware of that,” he snapped, taking a deep breath. Did they have to go through this every time? He felt bad enough without it.

“I know you are,” she agreed. “If I didn’t…” she stopped herself.

“If you didn’t you’d have me in a padded cell. I’m quite aware of that too,” he growled.

“My only concern is that you know who is there and who isn’t, and of course who you are and who you aren’t. If you feel you can manage that then you’re not…”

“A danger to myself and everyone else. You’ve said.”

She smiled, putting her pen down. “Until next time then.”