Good morning, Sunshine.

chapter TWO

"So... James. Tell me about yourself a little."
James simply shrugged his shoulders, not even bothering to make eye contact. Mrs. Kathy Green locked her stare into his cloudy eyes. She repeated herself, but still received no reply. So she tried a different approach.
“James, can you tell me why you think you’re here? Why do you think your parents sent you to me?”
James grinned crookedly, and muttered “They think I’m crazy.”
“Why do you think they think that?” No answer.
Kathy pondered, deciding on what might be the best approach for this young man. They sat in silence for a few moments. “Your mother tells me that you’re a writer.” James looked up at her from across her desk, making eye contact for the first time this meeting. He nodded. “So what do you like to write about? What kind of things do you write?”
“I write a lot.”
Kathy cocked an eyebrow, clearing taken by surprise by his evasive answer. She could tell that she was obviously making the wrong approach, and decided to go at a more straight-forward angle.
“So your mother told me about a recent incident you had involving a mouse. Would you like to explain this to me?”
“No.”
“Well I’m not asking anymore. Explain to me why you took a defenseless animal and treated it so cruelly.”
James giggled remembering the mouse. “Well, I found a mouse and stuck it in a microwave. My mom opened it and was pretty pissed that I had ruined her microwave, ‘cause it was covered in blood and mouse guts on the inside. But she made me buy her a new one, so I don’t see the big deal.”
“So you think the reason your mother was upset was because you ruined her microwave?” James shrugged, and then nodded. “I guess.”
Kathy was amazed and disgusted at the same time. “You don’t think that the fact that you intentionally caused a living thing to suffer and face an agonizing death has anything to do with why your mother was concerned about you?!” Kathy caught herself getting out of control, and tried to calm herself down. She had to remember he was a client, a patient, and that if she said the wrong thing, she’d lose both her customer and his parent’s money.
“Do you think it was a little uncalled for to do that?”
“Maybe. But hey, what can ya do?”
Kathy shook her head, unable to comprehend. “So tell me about your parents.”
“There’s one called mom, one called dad.”
“Your relationship with your parents, James.”
Silence.
“I don’t like them, they don’t like me. A normal teenage relationship.”
“Are you saying you hate your parents?”
”No.”
Kathy frowned.
“What about as a child? Did you like your parents then?”
“I don’t know. Probably.”
“Have they ever hit you?”
“No.”
Kathy went in circles with James, getting nowhere. Even after several sessions with this kid, she knew nothing about him, and had yet to figure anything out about him. She sat back in her chair, defeated.
“There’s no way I can help you if you don’t decide to open up a little, James.”
“Okay.”
“That’s okay?”
“I don’t need help.”
“Your parents seem to think that you do.”
Silence.

Nearly another hour went on without Kathy achieving anything. She had tried everything in her power to pry her way into James’ shut mind, but had gotten nowhere. She sat alone at her desk with her fingers digging into her throbbing temple. She had dealt with maniacs before, but James was a type she had never experienced. She momentarily questioned her position as a therapist.




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James lived in an average small-town community where he was as good as shunned. He was simply unaccepted, and he didn't have a problem with that. Sometimes he found himself wishing for someone, maybe a friend. But he knew that he would just get his hopes up, and he couldn't stand for any more disappointments in life. He had enough already.

Since James' parents were so 'concerned' about him, they hired a stranger that would force her way into his thoughts, trying to poke and prod herself into his life. They referred to her as his 'special friend', encouraging him to tell her everything. He furiously insisted that he didn't need a clueless therapist to feel sorry for him... he got enough of that for free. He loathed visiting her office the two times a week he was required to. He hated sitting in her office as she drilled him with pointless question after question as he sat there listening to the music in his head. He never really acknowledged her exsistance, which was probably the reason he was still there. He figured maybe if he just told her what she wanted to hear, his parents would be satisfied enough and be done with it.

Despite his oddity, even the people who hated James, or barely knew him, had to admit he had some serious skills. James was a writer, and a great one at that. "What a waste", they would say. "Such talent in such a pointless individual. Too bad it couldn't have gone to someone deserving." James never before cared for the opinions of others, and he wasn't about to start now. Sitting in the back of the classroom with his notebook and sinister thoughts, he scribbled down the fantasies racing through his head, avenging his classmates in his mind. He created menacing tales, starring the people he hated. He once had turned in a short story assignment for English, featuring the teacher as the victim in his twisted, deadly plot. That essay was the reason he was in therapy, and the reason for his unexpected schedual change to a different English teacher.

James had always been quite the oddball, even since he was a child. The first thing that stood out about him was his appearance. He had always been a little too tall for his age, and towered above his peers. His hair was a beautifully stunning shade of blonde, always matted and tangled on his head. He had light brown, golden colored eyes that were almost always either squinty and focus, or completely vacant. His skin was as tanned as it could be for a white kid. A popular first impression many people had on James was that he was anorexic. He was completely skin and bones. His thinness may have gone unnoticed if it wasn't for his unusual height. Many girls found him very attractive, but could never get past his ugly reputation.