M is for Myg

I wasn’t having a good night. Again.

After my strange and narrow escape from another potentially disasterous scene at Porn Stars, I’d found myself in a heap at her feet. I never would have expected to find myself here. Not in a million years.

“Wake up Miss March.” Dr. Moody’s voice sliced through my dream like a clean scalpel. I roused stiffly and tried to quickly figure out where I was.

She smiled down at me, one of those looks you don’t know how to fucking read.

“I know this must be confusing for you…” she continued. “We haven’t formally been introduced. I’m Dr. Moody. You’re in my office.”

“That’s one hell of a way to get patients.”

“Well, it is a bit unusual. But it seemed you were in need of a, ah, special intervention. Won’t you sit down?”

I could have made it for the door, but at that point I had run out of ideas. Alex, Sable, Romana had been bugging me like crazy to talk to someone. After everything else I’d been through, what could it hurt?

“It isn’t uncommon for someone in your situation to feel somewhat uneasy,” she said.

Uneasy didn’t even begin to describe it. She was making me feel - ugh - comfortable, I guess, and with my current set of problems, I needed to maintain some kind of edge.

“How were you able to tp me without me knowing or accepting a blue box invite?” Nobody had ever done it before. I’d never even heard of such a thing.

“It’s normal to have a lot of questions at a time like this. Your need to find answers is a good sign, and I think I can help you get to the bottom of your questions,” she said.

I believed her then, too.

“So, how long have you been having the black outs, Mygdala?”

And all of a sudden in that moment, something inside of me broke and I told her everything. I gushed like a kid spilling a confession to a cherished pal, like one of the condemned begging the forgiveness of a god before fate had its way. I let it all out, starting with meeting Andromega on the train, straight through the vampire bite, onto the free fall in Paris and the loss of my color in Topgol. She had everything she needed then to make an accurate diagnosis. Except one thing.

“You’re going to need a blood test.” she said.

“So, you don’t think my problem is psychological then?”

“Oh, I think you have a deep seated psychological problem, yes,” she reassured me. “But that’s not your only problem.”

“What do you mean?”

“I’m sorry, we’re out of time.” she smiled again, that same fucking smile. “That will be 43,000 L. Same time next week.”

I nodded and handed her a check drawn on Alex’s bank account.

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This entry was posted on Monday, May 7th, 2007 at 7:00 am and is filed under Capers, Met a stranger, Second Life.