In the morning I have to get up and go to therapy. Today is a special day because today, I get a fucking job. When I get a fucking job, I get fucking money. When I get money, I stop world hunger.
It's a win, win situation.
My hair is a good shoulder length. I grew it out. Another girl told me how. I make some braided pigtails, I don't large breast, I'm a B, So I put on a white's bra and white jogging pants.
I am cute.
"Ok house, I'm leaving. This means you have to protect yo self from harm. Don't get broken into." I head to the door. I blow a kiss to the air and make my exit.
I asked the landlord if I could have three extra locks on the outside my door. He gave me an extra lock on the inside. He told me I was paranoid and threatened to call my parole office. I was like, who the da fuck scared Mr. Henderson? I'm not. Fuck Henderson, fuck parole.
Last time I did that I got arrested.
I don't have a car, but I have google maps, on paper. I have a purse… too. Where did I get my purse? Oh, that's my I went to jail… What was I saying?
Following the directions on the paper provided by google maps. I make my way to therapy.
.
.
.
I go to the DOHRCC hospital where they have a therapy area. It's on the 11th floor for Remedy patients.
I hate it here.
But I am a registered vampire like I don't have a choice.
When I walk into therapy which is right in front of the elevators, thank God. It's already three people sitting for therapy.
"Um, my name is Alexis B. Kelly." I pop my lips. "Therapy?"
The blond woman checks the roster, "Alexis? Yes, your in here with me."
I take my sit close to the door. "Your aunt told me, you're usually late for these things. I'll let her know you came on time."
I nod and sit with my hands in my lap. "My name is Mrs. Leistner."
"You foreign?" I ask, just a general question. "My husband is German. We met a concert." she so full of smiles. "His name is Oliver and my name is Edith."
Edith Leistner is married to Oliver, yes. "I have two sons, ages five and seven." she is still sharing. "Do you have friends? Or family?"
"Uh, I have a boyfriend." I say, and that's it. "A boyfriend?" she nods. "Does he beat you?"
"No…" what the fuck?
"He doesn't beat you? Does he encourage bad habits? Like smoking, drinking. Or maybe he tried to rape you?"
What in the devil. "No…"
"Good." she cocks her head to the side. "I met somebody today and her husband is a vampire and she's afraid. So, she sits down in front of me. The first thing she asks is how do you kill a vampire. I tell her, I don't know."
OH!
"Well… what did… you do?"
"I said I don't know." we look at each other. "Do you think I did the right thing?"
"Um…" what to I do? "Well, we all are trying to get help. Somehow, someway."
"You're right…" she nods quickly. "I'm a therapist. I've never been asked that."
"Me either…" I look at the other two people in the room. "Is this everyone?" I ask.
Ms. Leistner looks at her watch, "we actually still have five minutes." she's very shaky. "I forgot," she points behind her. "We have snacks and coffee. I thought it would help to open us up."
"I want snacks." I go to the table and pick up a croissant and a cup of coffee. It's cold. "Would anyone like to start now? Just to clear the room?"
A white woman raises her hand. "My name is Jimmi Heath," Is that a woman? "I'm a vampire but not by choice."
"Ok." What is with this excessive nodding. Stay still white lady! "What do you mean by that? Would you to share more?"
Jimmi goes on, "There was a vampire in the neighborhood and he kidnapped people in the middle of the night. I was ten and he a ritual on me. I can't sleep at night, I don't drink blood."
"Do you go to the clinic?"
"No. I recently bit my dog and my myself. I… I don't know what to do…"
"Understandable. As a vampire, it's not your fault. Vamps need blood and chicken--Not to be racist or anything." She looks back at me. Yes, bitch, I am a negro. I sip my cold coffee.
"I eat chicken. My husband is vegan--"
"OH MY GOD!" blurts a man in the room. Oh look, a fellow nigga. "Bitch you need therapy. I'm here because I stole a car!"
"Why?"
"Because I need to feed my sick ass kid at home. My baby in custody and I gotta do three months of this shit with you. Act right!"
"My sorry sir," her voice is a whisper. "Alexis." she turns to me still eating bread. "Come sit. Tell us about yourself."
"I can stand…"
"Bitch sit down, and let this shit be done."
Nigga…
I take my seat. "Now that everyone is seated. Let me introduce myself again."
"You told her, not us."
"Well, I'm Edith Leistner, a therapist with the Department of Human Resources and Creature Comforts. I've been a therapist for about four months now."
Lord have mercy.
"I usually have a therapist switch on me. You less experience?" I note.
"I do but I think therapy comes from the heart."
Bitch.
"This my first therapy session. I'm poor, I'm on a program through the hospital. My name is Dushane Murray."
"Well," she sounds out of breath. "Dushane, what are you here for?"
"Uh, shit." he slacks in the chair with legs spread. "My son got kidnapped when he was eight." he sighs. "I told junior to stop playing like he was holding a gun. And one day, a Chevrolet down the street."
The room is still. "This nigga got the ice truck sound playing and my hardheaded ass kid run outside and that nigga sped up."
"Well, what happen?" I close my legs.
"That sounds very familiar to the Monroe Paul Songs case."
"I lost custody of my kid because this posed as me. Thank God he alive but now I got a record."
"Wait, who is Monroe Paul?"
"Years ago, a vampire from Locucts would play music like the ice cream truck and elementary rhymes to build his own coven." Mrs. Leistner goes on. "He took about 23 kids to a sewer. About 13 became zombies."
"For real?"
"In fact, with no real cure for zombies. You can catch a few around."